Page 73 of His Surrender
Relationships.
Remi and I hadn’t been in one, not technically. We had regularly seen each other, gone out a few times, and had amazing sex. But he hadn’t been my boyfriend or anything close to it… or, at least that’s what I told myself.
“You’re an asshole, Jay Foley.”
The irritation in his voice as he’d said the words had been like a punch to gut. And instead of owning up to my mistake, I had let his anger fuel mine.
So many years ago, I had felt like I was burning from the inside out. I’d denied my sexuality and stayed in the dark with only the flames of my internal self-hatred to guide my way. Andrew had been burning too, and together we’d drenched each other in lighter fluid and dropped a lit match, making the flames grow higher, consuming us both. It’d been a dark time in my life, one that had turned me into the man I was today.
I still felt like I was on fire some days… destroying everything in my path. Because it’s what I did. I consumed everything around me and left disaster in my wake. A lethal poisonous apple that would only cause pain. However, unlike the fairy tale, it wouldn’t end with a prince riding in on his white steed to save the day. It’d end with tears and hate-fueled words said from a place of grief.
After taking a puff of my cigar, I rested it on the ashtray and scrolled through my phone, stopping when I found Remi’s name in my contacts. I wanted to apologize for being a dick, but I couldn’t bring myself to message him.
He loved me.
He wasn’t the first man to say it to me. It was why I had started making things clear up front when I slept with a guy, telling them I wasn’t interested in more. Emotions ruined everything. But then Remi had come along and made me want more… he’d made me crave romance. Love. Two things I’d sworn off the day Andrew ripped my heart out of my chest.
When Remi had let those three words slip, it had felt like a bus slamming into me, a collision of fear, panic… and hope. Hope was the worst. Because when it faded and knocked you on your ass, it was too damn hard to get back up again.
So, what had I done? Emotionally checked out of the situation. Withdrawing from him was easier than dealing with the reasons I was afraid of letting him close to my heart.
The whiskey traveled through my body, numbing me in some places and leaving a dull ache in others. The pain in my chest remained. I needed more numbing… so I drank even more. Four glasses later, my head was even more of a mess.
Emery and I weren’t in a good place in our friendship. The murder trial had driven a wedge between us. However, I needed my friend right then. And I was just drunk enough to put my pride aside and call him.
“What is it, Foley?” Emery answered on the fourth ring. “If you’re calling to bitch me out about court yesterday, you can—”
“Can you come over?” My voice came out strange even to me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, no longer annoyed.
“No.” My vision blurred as tears welled in my eyes. “I’m not.”
“I’ll be over soon.”
The call disconnected, and I lowered the phone just as a tear slipped from the corner of my eye. We might’ve had our disputes, but we came through for each other when it really mattered. It was March now and the days were getting warmer, but the evenings were cool. As a chilly breeze passed over my skin, I shivered and stood to go back inside. When I stumbled, I caught myself on the patio column.
“’swhat you get for drinkin’ so much, you jackass,” I mumbled, steadying myself again before opening the back door and entering the kitchen.
Sputnik sat under the archway leading into the living room, his fluffy tail slowly moving beside him on the floor as he watched me stumble around and make another drink. I rarely got drunk, and so he probably thought I was crazy. Which… I mean, I suppose I was.
Did a sane man throw away the best thing that’d ever happened to him?
I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I heard a heavy knock at the front door. With a drink in hand, I made my way over and opened it. Emery stood on my doorstep, his black hair disheveled, and he wore a T-shirt and jeans.
“Hey, handsome,” I said, opening the door wider for him.
As he passed me, he took the drink from my hand. “You won’t be needing this anymore.”
“Bullshit.” I shut the door and leaned against it. “That’s the only thing I need right now.”
“No, you need to sit the hell down before you fall over.” Emery grabbed my arm and guided me toward the couch.
I plopped down, smirking as he shook his head. He placed the glass on a coaster and sat beside me. Sputnik jumped up on the couch and purred as he rubbed against Emery’s side.
“Wasn’t too long ago when you were callin’mewhile shitfaced,” I slurred, cracking a smile at the memory. “Remember? I had to put you to bed and everything.”
In fact, there’d been several times over the years when Emery had drowned himself in booze, mainly after his divorce and when his son found out he was gay. I had done my best to be there for him—as a lover, as a friend. Whatever he needed me to be. Then, when he met Cason and things had ended between them for a while, he’d turned back to his old friend Jack Daniels. I had gone over to his house and let him unleash all the pent-up sadness and confusion.
