Page 25 of Returning Your Love
The only problem?
There was no lock on the door.
Sure enough, Shelly came barging in a half hour of grumbling later, already well on her way to drunk.
I was selfish.
Didn’t care I’d let her down and made her unhappy.
Wasn’t bothered by the fact we hadn’t gotten it on since April.
But I didn’t bother reminding her she hadn’t initiated sex or affection in that time either. Didn’t mention my own depression and disappointment over our marriage and lack of closeness. Just kept my mouth shut in the hopes she’d run her mouth tired and leave me the fuck alone.
Took almost another hour before she passed out on our bed, her snores filling the entire single-story house that no longer felt like a home.
I grabbed a beer, stepped outside onto the stoop, and breathed fresh air into my lungs before drinking the cold brew almost in one go. I swigged the rest, emptying the bottle before descending the three cement stairs and heading into the backyard.
We had a small fire pit out we hadn’t lounged beside since…who the fuck knew when. Rather than sit in one of the creaky, old Adirondack chairs set snuggly together, I plopped onto the grass, sprawling on my back.
Stars twinkled down at me, but they brought no joy.
Only memories of past camping trips and a more recent one that made my throat ache and eyes sting.
Chapter 9
Jamie
Chaz hadn’t lied about the shop keeping him busy.
Two weeks passed before I saw him again and that was because Shelly had invited me for dinner when Dad and I had run into them at the diner.
Seeing them in their favorite booth they’d always sat in while dating back in high school had filled me with jealousy and a whole lot of ugly thoughts. Should have been me in Shelly’s seat. Chaz would at least have been smiling at the person across from him. I would have played footsies. Slid my foot up to his groin and made him flush. Put the spark of life in his eyes that had been lacking every time I’d seen since coming home.
I was a fucking shitty friend wishing I could take his wife’s place but couldn’t help it.
If Dad noted my annoyance with circumstances and my mood shift from relaxed to uptight, he hadn’t mentioned it. We’d discussed my lessening depression over my lost chances with the NFL and the upcoming Bobcat season while enjoying our appetizer of hot wings and blue cheese sauce. We also devoured the burgers Old Man Ron was famous for.
One topic I hadn’t touched on was my best friend, his wife, how miserable they both seemed, and how I struggled to keepmy focus on my life rather than theirs. During the days since we’d gone camping, Chaz hadn’t reached out, and neither had I. I’d have sworn I’d definitely broken something by sharing about my sexuality. But, I’d never had a best friend as an adult who had more important responsibilities than hanging out with me.
I’d settled in my mind that I would fight through the end of the football season then decide on my next course of action since I still wandered aimlessly around in my head over what I ought to do with myself.
Shit really depended on Chaz and our ability to either get past our mutual want and put it behind us or fuck around and end up ruining his marriage and further soiling himself in his father’s eyes. No way in fuck would he do such a thing. He would cling to his marriage with all his might simply to prove a goddamned point.
Couldn’t blame the man though. He’d been through hell and back with his father.
Even though I didn’t want to, I showed up at his and Shelly’s house on Friday night with strawberry wine just for shits and giggles. My insides were a jittery mess, and wariness kept me a little closed off as was my norm.
Shelly welcomed me with open arms, her breath smelling of whiskey, voice shrill and on this side of annoying.
Chaz met my eyes for a brief second before turning away. No fucking way something hadn’t gotten fucked up between us. I didn’t know how to make shit better, and I forced myself to do the whole small talk/catching up thing with his wife while Chaz looked on in silence. Exhaustion still clung to him, and he appeared paler than expected considering we’d both tanned while fishing and swimming in the lake.
We hadn’t even gotten to the table before Shelly had wiped out the wine I’d brought along. Like me, Chaz kept glancing at her with concern then insisted on helping get the food on thetable since she was stumbling rather than walking from one end of the kitchen to the other.
Over dinner, Shelly hounded me for information like I’d expected that first night in Frenchie’s, wanting to hear the gossip and about whatever trouble I’d gotten into. Like Chaz, she asked about women, and I grinned, reminding her that gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell—same as I’d said back in high school when I’d taken a cheerleader out for ice cream because I feared people might start questioning my preferences if I didn’t date.
“Comeon, Jamie!” Shelly whined, her words slurred. While eating, she’d started on a bottle of white that she claimed paired well with the chicken piccata she’d made for us.
“Seriously, Shell,” I argued, grinning again when all I wanted to do was assure Chaz, who’d rolled his eyes, that we were cool. Everything was fine. His wife wasn’t annoying the fuck out of me.
