Page 48 of Before I Deserved You
For the first time, the thought of him once again suffering for something I’ve done fills me with so much shame that I have a hard time meeting his eyes. It makes me want to grab him, shake him, and yell at him to cut his losses and find himself a better friend. Someone deserving of his loyalty because, clearly, Ifucking suck at relationships of all shapes and forms. And while we’re already on the tedious task of taking a long, hard look at my many shortcomings, I may as well add that I haven’t brought anything valuable to the table for far too long.
I mean, the guy is currently navigating what could potentially be the biggest crisis of his life, having just found out he’s going to be a father, and here I am making him worry all night and trying to one-up him when he should be leaning on me for support. When Carter eventually pulls up next to my truck and kills the engine, we simply sit there, neither of us quite ready to deal with the literal shitstorm brewing on the horizon.
“Alright, walk me through it,” Carter breaks the silence. “You know what, never mind. There’s really only one thing I need to know. Did you fuck her?” he asks, never one to beat around the bush and twisting the knife in my chest just a little deeper.
“I woke up naked in her bed, man. I really don’t want it to be true, but according to Jessica, I most definitely did.”
“Shit.”
“That about sums it up,” I mutter, running a shaky hand through my disheveled hair.
“Fuck, dude. How the hell did this happen? Did you not hear a word I said to you the other day? What about ‘Tessa needs reassurances’ translated to ‘let’s go and fuck the girl responsible for ninety-five percent of her insecurities?’ You know, I really thought I’d gotten through to you.”
“You did.” I go to defend myself but quickly realize how ridiculous I sound, given the circumstances. “I didn’t plan for this to happen. Tessa and I were supposed to go together, but we got into it on our way to the party, and I ended up going alone.”
“What were you fighting about?”
My stomach rolls as I remember the reason for our heated argument.
“Jessica,” I grit out and barely restrain myself from pummeling the glove compartment a second time. This is a disaster.
“Damn, Jake. You can’t make this shit up. It’s like you’re caught in a bad soap opera. So, let me get this straight. You guys got into an argument, and you couldn’t look past your own nose and got your panties in a twist which, naturally, led you to get so fucked up you can’t even remember whether or not you slept with someone? Does that sound about right?”
I lean forward and pour a tortured groan into the palms of my hands.
“It wasn’t like that,” I mumble through splayed fingers before I turn my head to meet his accusing gaze. “I had a few drinks, but I felt bad about the way I left things with Tessa and just wasn’t enjoying myself, so I called it a night. I remember Chase offering me something to get me to stay, but I’m pretty sure I turned him down.”
“You’re pretty sure? Because it seems to me something led you to make some terrible choices, and I’d like to think that the Jake I know would never have gone there, not in his right mind. So think, and think hard. Did you or did you not take something?”
I rack my brain, mentally jumping back to that fundamental moment as I visualize Chase’s wide grin. I can see his outstretched arm in my mind’s eye as he waves the small pouch in front of my face, taunting me with its contents. It’s coming back to me in a jumble of bits and pieces. Me telling him I’m not interested. The niggling sensation that something was off and just wanting to get to my truck to sleep it off. But that’s where my memory fails. I got nothing after that.
“I don’t know, Carter,” I growl, frustrated with the situation as well as myself. “I’m ninety-five percent certain I turned him down, but if I did, then there’s no reasonable explanation for how I ended up at Jessica’s. It doesn’t matter though, does it? Whether I was on something or not won’t make a lick of difference, and it doesn’t change the fact that I was unfaithful.”
Carter shakes his head with a sad resignation.
“This is a fucking nightmare, dude. I’m telling you, that chick has some nerve. I’ve watched her trying to drive a wedge between you two since you firststarted dating. She’s probably opening a bottle of bubbly as we speak, seeing as she’s finally succeeded. I hate to say it, but I really despise the bitch, and I don’t trust her one bit. Something about this doesn’t feel right.”
“It doesn’t feel right because you don’t want to believe I’m capable of this. Trust me, I know the feeling.” I release a dark chuckle. “God, you were right. I’m just like him, aren’t I? A selfish piece of shit with a substance abuse problem. I’ve judged him for years because he wasn’t able to control his impulses and look at me now. Getting fucked up every chance I get and making excuses for my hurtful behavior. Lashing out at the people I love because I don’t want to admit I’m weak. And now I’m about to destroy the one girl who refused to give up on me, no matter how badly I’ve treated her. I’m about to tear her whole world apart, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to soften the blow. I can’t take this back. The only thing I can do now is own up to it and pray she’ll be able to forgive me someday.”
“Goddamn it, Jake.”
Thirty-One
Tessa
Something’s wrong. It’s evident in the way he carries himself. The slumped set of his shoulders, the way he wrings his hands, and how he hasn’t been able to meet my eye since he arrived. I pray his odd behavior is a result of him feeling guilty about the way we left things last night, but the clenching in my gut promises something far worse.
“Talk to me,” I prompt when I can’t stand another second of the silence surrounding us like a heavy cloak. When his gaze finally settles on mine, the dread and regret reflected back at me makes my stomach turn.
“I know something’s up. So, would you please put me out of my misery and spit it out already because I’m beginning to imagine all kinds of scenarios, and none of them are good.”
He stretches his neck side to side, producing a loud popping sound that hints at the tension there, as a thin layer of perspiration coats his forehead. He’s scared, I realize with a jolt of surprise. My boyfriend, who hasn’t given a damn about anything or anyone in weeks, is genuinely terrified. It’s written all over his face. Is he actually tearing up? Jake isn’t a crier. I mean, the guy didn’t even shed a tear at his own mother’s funeral. He has an uncanny ability to deal with everything lifethrows his way with almost stoic detachment, to the point that I worry about his emotional capacity at times.
For him to be on the verge of tears can only mean one thing. Whatever he’s about to tell me is going to hurt. A lot.
“I need you to promise me that you’ll hear me out before you kick me to the curb.”
“Okay,” I say, tamping down the rising panic threatening to overtake me.
