Page 56 of Inevitable Love
“Oh.Ohhh.”
There’s so much I want and need to say about this, like why didn’t she tell me? How long has she had a girlfriend? Is Stella good to her?
This night has been such a whirlwind of emotions, but judging by her expression, she’s super nervous about coming out. “Well, I’d still like to meet her in person, if that’s ever an option.”
She meets me with a watery smile and squeezes my hand. “I should’ve known you weren’t going to be a judgmental prick like so many others around here are. This small town isn’t known for its acceptance. Thanks, Mags.”
The nickname makes my own eyes fill with tears because there’s only one other person in this world who’s ever called me that, and I’ll probably never hear him say it again.
Dammit. One escaped.
“What happened with my idiot brother?”
I swallow thickly and admit, “I don’t want to tell you. Iremember what’s happened in the past, and I don’t want to be the one who comes between you two.”
“You won’t. I’d like to think we’ve matured since then. That we’ve gotten past all the stupid bullshit. That doesn’t mean I want the nitty-gritty details, but it’s easy to see you’re hurting and angry. And if he’s taken off early, he probably is too. He’s a champion avoider when things get emotionally hard. But give him time to put his big-boy pants on, and he’ll come around.”
Maybe he would. But that didn’t mean I’d be here waiting for it to happen. And it didn’t take away the sting of knowing he withheld his part in the night that had changed my life.
“I’m too tired to think about him anymore tonight.” I drain the last of my wine and stand. “But I’m serious. I’d really like to meet Stella. Whenever you’re ready.”
She’s picking up her phone and dialing before I clear the room. It’s the first time she’s made a call where she hasn’t squirreled herself away, and I wonder if the weight of keeping Stella—and all that having a girlfriend means—a secret has taken its toll on Alice. I double back and drop a kiss to her hair.
“Thanks for telling me about Stella. I can’t wait to meet her.”
I grab the remains of the bottle of wine and don’t even bother with washing my makeup off before heading to bed. Sleep will be impossible, but maybe if I polish off the rest of this bottle, I can pass out without crying first.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jackson
Never figured I’d be back in the classroom, especially as an old guy trying to keep up with the young’uns, but here we are.
The drone of the instructor is almost enough to make me catatonic. If not for the massive energy drink I chugged before class, I’d probably be snoring right about now.
“Next week, be prepared to do some fieldwork and training,” the instructor says, then dismisses the class.
I gather my things slowly, dreading the prospect of spending yet another weekend holed up in my solitary dorm room. The campus is small, and everyone in attendance is in the same program I’m in. It allows us to study together and build relationships, to get some intense hands-on training. Almost like a bootcamp scenario.
But the thrill of being here, of starting this new adventure, is gone. For starters, the program is nothing like I imagined it would be. Secondly, it’s a whole lot more intense than I expected. Though I loved the social aspect of highschool back in the day, I hated the actual schoolwork and studying. Nothing has changed in the decade I’ve been out of the classroom. Kind of a stupid realization, since I’ve also hated the weeklong training classes I’ve taken over my years of being in the fire service.
Trudging across campus, I feel… old. Out of touch. Dreading the next few weeks, the next few months.
There’s nothing to look forward to, not even the prospect of getting out and fighting some fires firsthand, not studying the topography and learning all the different tools… none of it is satisfying. To say I’m disappointed in my choice is an understatement. Maybe it’s time to look for a different program.
“Yo! Georgia,” my suitemate, Thomas, calls as I enter my shithole room.
I hate that fucking nickname. Everyone here is known by nicknames at this point. Thomas, a fresh-faced, barely twenty-one-year-old, gave me mine as soon as we were introduced. Apparently, my Southern drawl gave me away, and I’ve been named for my home state ever since. But every time I hear it, I’m reminded of who and what I left behind.
“A couple of us are headed into town for the night. You wanna come?”
Staying in and doing even more studying sounds horrible, but going out with a rowdy crew is the last thing I want to do. The last time I went out with them, I spent the entire night dodging young coeds—something Thomas and his crew indulged in. I have zero desire to hook up with anyone.
“Nah. I’m gonna hang here. Maybe find a trail to hike.”
“You’re never gonna get over being homesick if you mope around in the room,” Thomas—or Mouse, as he’sknown around here—mutters from behind the T-shirt he’s changing into.
“I’m not moping,” I fire back a little harder than called for.
