Page 35 of The Sweet Spot
Chris carries his plate and silverware to the sink, rinses them off, and puts them in the dishwasher. Then he turns to face me. “Thanks for having me over tonight, Jennie. I’m pretty wiped out, so I’ll say goodnight. I think I remember where the guest room is.”
He takes a couple of steps toward the arched doorway, stops, and turns back to me. “Did I say anything earlier to you, at the hospital? I mean, anything inappropriate? I was kind of out of it.”
My chest tightens. I’m right. He does remember at least bits and pieces. I honestly don’t know how to respond to that. It’s getting late, and he’s exhausted and in pain. Now is not the time for me to pile more worries on his conscience. “No,” I say easily, lying through my teeth. “You didn’t.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “If I said anything I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.”
“No worries.” I do my best to give him a reassuring smile, when deep down inside, I’m hurting. He might have said those things, but I doubt he meant them.
He nods. “If you’re sure. Goodnight then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The house is eerily quiet after Chris goes to bed. I’m tired, and it’s been a long day, and I should be sleepy, but I’m not. I keep replaying our conversation at the hospital over and over again.
How can I take him at his word when he was under the influence of a sedative? He couldn’t have been serious, couldhe? I’m thinking no, especially not when he clearly acts like he regrets it.
Chapter 12 – Chris
I am such a fucking idiot!I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, watching rivulets of water stream down my face. It’s damn hard to wash your face when one of your arms is completely immobilized. It’s even harder to lower my sweats one-handed so I can take a piss. It’s even harder to pull them up when I’m done.
Jennie always keeps a stash of new toothbrushes in the bathroom cupboard for guests. I snag one and brush my teeth. Then I head for the guest bedroom and wrangle my clothes off one-handed, which isn’t easy. It looks like I’m sleeping in my sweats tonight since I passed on the underwear at the hospital. I hope Micah thinks to bring me some in the morning.
After yanking the covers down, I crawl onto the bed and lie staring at the ceiling.
I am such a fucking idiot!
Jennie denied I said anything inappropriate to her at the hospital, but I know better. I know what I said, or at least most of it. I told her I fucking loved her. That’s true, of course, I do. But I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. And now I’ve put her in an awkward position, and God knows what kind of damage I’ve done to our friendship.
I’m afraid I just ruined the most important relationship I have. If I lose her as a friend, I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from that.
I lie here for the longest time, rehashing what Imighthave told her, overthinking everything, and generally driving myself crazy. The house is silent, and I’m wondering what Jennie is doing. Has she gone to bed? Or is she sitting up wondering what she’s going to do about me and my unrequited love for her?
Fuck!
It feels weird even being here tonight. It’s been years since I stayed over at Jennie’s. When we were kids, Rosie let me and Micah spend the night sometimes. We’d stay up all night watching scary movies and eating popcorn and M&Ms until Rosie made us go to bed.
Micah and I would crash in sleeping bags on the living room floor. In the morning, Rosie would make us pancakes before she had to head off to the diner. George would give me and Micah rides home after breakfast.
The nights I slept over here meant the world to me. It was such a luxury to sleep in a clean, secure home where I didn’t have to watch my back constantly. I lost count of how many of Mom’s tricks tried to make a move on me when she was out cold in her bed, usually after a drug binge.
In the trailer, I slept on the sofa in the living room, so the tricks would have to pass by me on their way out in the middle of the night. Some of them propositioned me, offering me cash for a blow job. Some of them offered me money if I’d let them fuck me. I was probably twelve then. It got so bad, I started sleeping over at Micah’s house a lot.
Jennie never knew about any of that kind of shit. I wanted to protect her from it. I was also ashamed of where I came from. I didn’t want her to know how bad it was.
It’s why I went into law enforcement in the first place—to protect those who can’t protect themselves.
My shoulder is aching like a bitch, but that’s just too bad. I won’t take so much as an aspirin. I’m terrified of ending up an addict like my mom. Her addiction to drugs and alcohol is the reason she ended up like she did. I always wondered what kind of mom she would have been if she hadn’t gotten hooked on the stuff. I like to think she’d have been a good mom if she could have stayed sober.
I never blamed Jennie for saying no to me when we were kids and I stupidly asked her to school dances. What girl would have wanted to go to a dance with a kid like me? I didn’t even own a decent pair of pants. All I had to my name was ripped jeans, and not the fancy kind, but jeans that were so old and threadbare the fabric tore.
I never blamed her.
But I never stopped loving her either… I just did it quietly, from afar.
* * *
I must have eventually fallen asleep because the next thing I know, the sun is peeking through the blue gingham curtains, and birds are singing outside my window.
After making the bed as well as I can with only one hand, I grab my phone and head to the hall bathroom to pee, wash my hand, and attempt to tidy my bedhead. It looks like that’s not going to be possible, so I figure a shower is in order. But I can’t very well take a shower with my arm in a sling, so I slip it off and set it on the counter. When I straighten my right arm, pain radiates up into my shoulder and neck, and I bite back a curse.
