Page 5 of Returning Your Love
I expected he hated being here again, and while I was nervous about his return, I was glad.
Tooglad.
Talk about an asshole best friend or whatever we were to each other now. I supposed time would tell, but my lack of patience and conflicting desires had turned my insides into an absolute mess.
Shelly gave me space to quickly get dressed, so I got a few seconds to breathe without interference. I swore her heated glare singed me through the walls separating us though. Hertoes tapped loudly on the cracked tile entryway, her agitation thick in the air.
Marriage had started out easy enough for us. Sure, we butted heads like every other couple in existence, but a lot of issues had snuck in since we’d exchanged vows four years ago. Distance weaseled between us, and if not for her bitching and fighting for more, I’d think she would be ready to move on as I sometimes wished I could.
But I wouldn’t quit. Refused to. Fuck that shit, because I couldn’t mess up something else for my dad to harp on, and how the hell would my bills get paid without the additional income?
I’d promised Shelly the family she’d always wanted since she had no one but her mother, who was in a long-term care facility, suffering from severe dementia. I’d been lucky enough to convince Shelly we had to wait for marriage to even try. Not saying we didn’t have sex back in high school. Just kept my cock under wraps because I’d refused to be a teenage dad. At twenty-four, we still had plenty of time even though her mom didn’t, and I thought that more than anything weighed heavy on her mind.
“Let’sgo!” Shelly grumbled from down the hallway, and I ran a hand through my wet hair.
Scruff lined my usually shaven jaw, and purplish bags lay under my eyes, but depression did shit to a man, made him not care a whole hell of a lot about his appearance. Lips pressed tight, I exited our bedroom and heard exactly what I expected the second I rounded the corner.
“You’re wearingthat?”
I ignored Shelly, grabbed my keys again, and headed out the door. She hated my ripped jeans and plain T-shirts with the stretched-out collars, but it was what I felt most relaxed in, and fuck knew I’d need every level of comfort I could for what awaited us downtown.
Shelly muttered nonstop from behind me, but I did my best to pretend she didn’t exist. Shitty of me, but I’d had enough of her bull tonight. Needed something to look forward to, goddamnit. Excitement. A rush of adrenaline. Brightness in my dull, depressing existence.
Jamie’s smile used to light me up from the inside out, and that gorgeous grin of his made encouraging words about everything being okay unnecessary. His presence had been all I’d needed. Would seeing him again cause my stomach to flutter? Settle the unrest in my head like his proximity had done before he abandoned us for bigger and better things?
Huffing, Shelly buckled up her seatbelt, and I caught a sniff of her flowery perfume—and whiskey.
My brow furrowed as I cast a glare at her. “Seriously, Shell? You started already?”
“Shut up,” she muttered, riffling through her purse for who the fuck knew what. Probably that plumping lip gloss that made her lips puff up like a porn star’s. Used to get me hard.
Not anymore.
I backed out of our driveway and took off up the road fast enough that the tires chirped.
Teeth clenched, I fought to swallow down words that would only cause another argument, one we’d had countless times in the past couple of months. The newest reason I wasn’t super excited to get my wife pregnant was because her disappointment in me had led to her drinking hard liquor almost every night since our last failed attempt. Couldn’t trust a woman who was more interested in drowning her sorrows than agreeing to counseling.
She didn’t need a therapist, Shelly had stated with a sneer, just that baby I’d been promising her since high school.
Should have kept my mouth shut on seeking help for our marriageandsetting myself up for yet another failure.
Fuck, I hated that word.
I released a slow, steady exhale, focusing on easing the tension in my shoulders and stomach. Getting my emotions set straight became a priority because I was about to be confronted with the one man I’d been desperate to forget but couldn’t no matter how hard I tried.
Memories played in my mind as they often did of all the good times the three of us had together. The laughter. Adventures. Camping out by Pippen Creek Pond, eating s’mores until we were all sick to our stomachs. Skinny-dipping beneath slivers of moon in a star-dotted sky while I hid my lust for Jamie’s perfect body. Drinking cheap strawberry wine we’d managed to sneak from the city south of our small town. The three of us piling up inside a two-man tent, snuggling like a litter of kittens before passing out.
Maybe, justmaybe, Jamie’s return would be a good thing.
Then I remembered waking with boners that were more than mere morning wood, pressing against my best friend’s leg even though Shelly had been between us when we’d gone to bed. We’d camped out together three nights, and during each of them, I’d unknowingly clung to Jamie in sleep. Thank fuck he hadn’t woken up before I’d snuck away before sunrise. I might have left the temptation of him all three mornings, but the draw, the longing for more than friendship with my straight best friend…
Nope. Shut that shit down.
I’d made my bed and had no choice but to lay in it.
Jamie, I expected, had a different woman under him every night after accomplishing his goal of making it into the NFL. Career ending too early by an injury or not, the man could have anyone he wanted and probably had more notches on his bedpost than I did checks marks on my weekly to-do list.
I had no business thinking about him in that way. I was married. Owned a struggling business, which needed my fullfocus. Had responsibilities far beyond daydreams and fantasies of him returning home and declaring, “I’ve been gay this whole time and love you more than Shelly ever could.”
