Page 6 of Revive

“We know,” they say in unison.

“But…” I raise my eyebrows expectantly.

“Dakota.”

“What about her?”

“Sasha.”

“Shit, Jagger, what the fuck is it?”

“Dakota is always going to come over, more so maybe, because I live here, and Sasha and you—”

“There is no Sasha and me,” I cut him off.

“Exactly.” Emerson squeezes his shoulders, and he sighs and slumps back in the chair.

“I’m going to leave you both to it. There’s a shower and a bed calling my name.” Jagger looks up at her hungrily, and she kisses him with a promise of what’s to come. Forcing themselves apart, she struts away, and Jagger eats her up with his eyes.

“Just go with her,” I tease. “We can finish this later.”

“Nice try.” He smirks at me, “She’ll be waiting for me.”

“I don’t doubt that one bit.”

“Do you want another beer?” he offers.

“Buttering me up?”

“Maybe.” He makes a quick dash to the fridge and back, two bottles of beer before us, giving us both liquid courage.

“Look, Drix,” he says calmly. “Your business with Sasha will always be your business, but you left to get away from her.”

“I didn’t leave to get away from her.”

“Bullshit,” he says, agitated. “Eight whole fucking months, and two seconds outside and nothing is better. Nothing is different.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jagger. Dakota is non-negotiable. I will endure whatever I have to, to see her. Whether you live here or not, makes no difference.”

“I would never expect anything less, Drix.” He shakes his head. “That’s not what this is about.”

“What’s it about then?”

“I’m sick of seeing you in knots over her. She won’t talk to me about it, neither will you, and it’s killing me how much the whole thing hurts you both.”

“I thought leaving would change things, but she couldn’t even stand to look at me.” My voice cracks and Jagger’s face twists in anguish; there’s no hiding how out of my depth I am. I don’t have a solution and the notion that time heals everything is a crock of bullshit I can’t wait around for any longer.

“You know.” He runs his hand across the back of his neck before taking another sip. “She was a mess when you left.” Strangely, his revelation calms me. Knowing I’m not the only one suffering. “She showed up here one night, eyes puffy, face drawn, it was obvious she’d been crying for hours. When she asked if Dakota could stay here for a week, I knew it was bad.”

Images of me drinking everything in sight to the point where I couldn’t remember who I was, where I was or what I was doing reminds me just how bad it really was. “Something happen?” he presses.

A loud whoosh of air leaves my mouth before I drop the bomb. “We slept together.”

He doesn’t say a word, so I continue. “It was here when we had that barbeque the day before I was heading out. It was our first, and last time.”

“What?” he questions in shock. “You’ve known her your whole life, and never…”

“I’ve slept with a lot of women, Jagger, but none of them were her.”

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