Page 75 of Returning Your Love
What more could I have done? Surely, there’d been something I’d missed, some way of easing the tension and conflict between us.
I needed to quiet the voices in my head and had demanded Jamie leave because I couldn’t stand the sight of him in that moment.
What had been a beautiful moment turned into a nightmare.
Any trace of happiness I’d felt while being with Jamie had been torn away by the evidence, the goddamned reminder of my failure, on my fingertips. I’d been too far gone in my lust to think shit through, and the mistake of not using a condom could have put Jamie at risk.
I wasn’t sure of the timing of Shelly’s affair. Had she been fucking the guy before we stopped having sex? Was I unknowingly carrying around some nasty disease?
I should have told Jamie what she’d done the second the sight of my cum brought reality crashing back into me but couldn’t bear the humiliation of another man giving her what I couldn’t. I would drive into Berlin tomorrow and get tested. If everything was okay, there was no reason I had to reach out to the man who had betrayed not just her memory but me as well.
The door closed behind him with a click that sounded a lot like a final nail in a coffin. Wrong fucking simile or metaphor—or whatever—but there the fuck it was.
Whiskey called for me, a quiet whisper promising numbness from the pain ripping through me, but I’d been trying to abstain. Deal with shit like a strong human, not some weakling who didn’t deserve the Henderson name.
“Arg!” I hollered and ripped at my hair, uncaring that sticky wetness still clung to my fingers. “Fuck!”
I wanted to punch something. Kick a wall in. Tear down the house around me.
Teeth bared, I growled at the empty room, my pulse speeding and muscles quivering. Fists at my sides, I looked around for something to destroy without hurting myself in the process. Had to keep my hands healthy. Work depended on it.
Nostrils flaring, I closed my eyes and sucked in oxygen, a low keening noise filling the air.
“Jesus fuckingChrist!” I hollered. A quick stomp around allowed me to snatch my clothes up off the floor, I kicked my shoes toward the rack where Shelly had demanded I always leave them by the front door, and I stalked up the hallway.
I tossed my clothes in the hamper and yanked the shower faucet on, stepping beneath the spray before it heated up to distract me from my thirst for alcohol.
“Fuck!” I clenched my jaw against the ice-cold water pelting my skin. Having something to focus on helped me to draw breath even if it stuttered through chattering teeth.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to still, searching out that numbed peace that had settled over me when the surgeon had informed me of Shelly’s death.
The water warmed, running over tense muscles that refused to relax.
Soap.
Scrub him from my flesh.
Watch the reminder of being inside his body and the connection I’d found euphoria in disappear down the drain.
A sob ripped from me unexpectedly at the finality of Jamie being gone, and I gulped to fill my lungs. Another anguished howl spilled from my lips, and I slumped onto the shower stall, head hanging as water beat on me.
I hadn’t thought my sorrow would ever make itself known in such a violent way, all-consuming and agonizing, attempting tocut off my ability to breathe. I’d been stupid to think grief meant crying for what Shelly had lost and the friendship she and I had once shared. Neither compared to how Jamie had fractured my heart.
This…thisis what true heartache feels like.
A few weeks’ worth of therapy helped me set my head straight somewhat, allowing me to at least go through the motions beyond mere survival in my renewed misery. So did having a negative test result in my hands. We were safe. I hadn’t put Jamie’s health in danger, thank fuck. Didn’t change my disappointment or anger at him for what he’d dared to wish though. I couldn’t begin to think about forgiving him any more than I could myself.
I ignored the passing of Thanksgiving that I used to spend with Jamie before he’d left for college. Shelly and I would to go to my parents for the holiday, but I couldn’t be bothered to return Mom’s text asking me to join them. Considering the outcome of our last dinner as a family, I didn’t expect a calm or enjoyable visit.
I’d made the choice to completely cut their toxicity out of my life, which had been easier than expected. While my mother hadn’t exactly been toxic, her silence proved her inability to love me above herself. Yet another pile of shit to share with my therapist.
I spent that Thursday at the shop instead since I was bogged down with both large and smaller jobs that would keep me busy for most of the winter.
It was time to hire someone. While I couldn’t figure out the numbers in my attempted budget, I had no choice. Peoplewouldn’t wait forever for their vehicles, and there weren’t enough hours in the day for me to get the work done on my own. Having to believe that the faster I moved cars through the shop, the more money I would make, I put an ad in the local flyer.
Of all townsfolk to answer, Josh, Jamie’s backup quarterback from the season, had come sauntering into my office the Saturday after Thanksgiving, asking me to take a chance on him. He’d spent his childhood tinkering alongside his dad on small engines—lawn mowers, motorcycles, ski mobiles, and such. He also knew how to change oil, rotate tires, and he had even done a brake job with his dad once. While he was only available after school and on Saturdays, no one else inquired about the position.
Having no other options, I hired the kid, thankful at least that I didn’t have to pay him top dollar. The fact he was openly gay and that I could provide a safe place for him made the choice even easier.
