Page 32 of Returning Your Love
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really, but going to therapy for months taught me spilling shit is better than bottling it up.”
Dad lounged back in his chair. “I’m all ears, and you know I won’t judge.”
And that was exactly why I trusted him with my truth. Or most of it, rather. I told Dad about the camping trip, what Chaz and I had discussed that night. Also went into the whole dinner thing with my best friend and his wife and how we ended up kissing in the kitchen while she’d slept. The ejaculating in our pants I kept to myself. Skirting the truth of how we’d ended the scene wasn’t lying.
“You love him.”
Jerking my focus off my food I’d been staring at while sharing what bothered me, I met Dad’s kind gaze. Zero trace of disappointment shone in his eyes over me making out with a married man. A small smile curved his lips, a reminder of the constant gentleness and his unconditional acceptance of me throughout childhood. I’d definitely been lucky to have him. Still was. He more than made up for my lack of a decent mother, always having my back.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, curious about how I’d given myself away.
“Please.” He leaned forward, chuckling, elbows on table. “You’ve been in love with that boy since middle school. Anyone with half a brain would have seen it had they paid close enough attention.”
The one person I wished caught onto my feelings back then had missed it, causing us both to end up unhappy with the path we’d taken. But I couldn’t blame Chaz. I’d been more focused on my dreams than my relationship status. I’d put football before him.
Mistake of a lifetime.
My face must have revealed my misery because Dad reached over and grasped my forearm. “Just keep swimming.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes over Dad quoting my favorite childhood movie.
“Seriously, Jamie. You’ve got this.”
“That’smysaying,” I reminded him.
“And I believe in you. Love him from a distance if that’s all you can have. Be his friend, and available whether it’s a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen. Just keep your dick in your pants.”
Heat flushed my face. “Dad!”
He sat back and shrugged. “You wouldn’t want to be in Shelly’s shoes, would you?”
I snorted at the thought of sharing a bed with Chaz every night. “Fuck yeah, I would,” I answered honestly.
“I mean being the one cheated on.”
Leave it to Dad to speak the harsh truth.
Weeks passed without running into Chaz. I knew the man was under the gun, and whenever I drove past his shop, I craned my neck to catch sight of him. Whether the sun was out and the garage doors stood open or darkness blanketed town and interior lights shone at nine at night, he slaved away to make ends meet and prove his worth to his dad and himself.
I saw Shelly every time I stopped by Scone Haven for a coffee. They made the best in town, and I didn’t have any other option unless I headed south a few miles to hit the closest Dunks. Supporting local businesses had been ingrained in my head since childhood, and that wouldn’t change, no matter how much my stomach turned whenever Shelly smiled at me, her eyes lighting up.
Guess shehadslept through her husband’s and my make-out session. Chaz had obviously kept his mouth shut about our actions as well or she wouldn’t have acted so damned nice while waiting on me.
When I exited the coffee shop, the guilt over being the reason he had cheated on her ate at my insides even if she didn’t deserve his love. Just as terrible, I couldn’t help but continue wishing she was out of the picture for good.
Talk about a shit friend. Could I be any more awful of a human?
But even though we’d been the three musketeers, according to the rest of the townsfolk who’d known us back in the day, she and I hadn’t ever been close. Shelly had been the tagalong younger sibling type who had followed us everywhere. Both Chaz and I had been like big brothers, even though we were all in the same grade. I wished I could pinpoint what had been the catalyst that had sent her and Chaz into a relationship, but looking back, I couldn’t recall jack shit.
But as the days passed, little things began to give me a hint of joy and a better sense of purpose.
Thanks from my players for making first string when they hadn’t expected to. Knuckle bumps from Coach Dave and appreciation in his eyes over how I ran the program. Seeing Gabby excel and the guys on the team acting more like brothers to her than rivals. A few other parents offering their time to help in whatever way they could—and showing up with sliced oranges or Gatorade after practice to prove they could be counted on.
Josh, our backup quarterback and a junior, attached himself to my hip and soaked up every word I said as though thirsty as fuck to learn from my experiences in the NFL. Like Chaz, he didn’t get along with his father, but unlike my best friend, Josh was out and proud, sometimes wearing mascara and lip gloss beneath his helmet.
I envied his confidence.
