Page 7 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part 2

He kisses my hair. “Let’s get you home and tucked in bed.”

“Sounds good.”

CHAPTER3

RIGGS

A sob tearsout of me, and I drop to my knees in the middle of my apartment. Good thing I’m alone. I’m always fucking alone at no one’s fault but mine. I can’t act like I haven’t chosen this for myself. Pushing everyone away is what I do best, and it’s exactly what I’ve accomplished. They all keep trying to get me to let them in, but I refuse. I refuse to drag anyone else down with me. I won’t do it. Especially Charley.

I was fucking while she was dying…My own words play in my mind repeatedly. In that moment, I’d like to say I said it out of pain from seeing Gramma dead, for feeling truly guilty over it. Iwasfucking while she was dying, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it. We didn’t know when she was leaving us. To think I would be there was an impossible standard to set for myself.

I truly think I said what I did because I wanted to push Charley away. Seeing me like that was not something she should have endured. And now, like this, the wreck I am. I’m no good for her. A life with me would be to ruin her and I won’t do that, not to her, not to anyone. That moment was me, in a nutshell, the epitome of my life. She doesn’t deserve that.

The pain that rolled off her when I made that statement was palpable. It pierced my heart repeatedly in the few brief moments she stood there before she finally walked out. It hurt worse than seeing Gramma there, dead, cold. There was time to prepare for that, to harden my heart to what I would eventually see, the inevitable. But to hurt Charley like that, to reduce what we did to a simple, carnal act… when it was so much more than that.

It almost killed me.

It’s almost killing me now.

I miss her so fucking much. This hollowness in my chest won’t go away. She won’t leave my thoughts. Will there ever be a day I wake up and not think about her? Not hurt? Ending things for myself has crossed my mind. I mean, why shouldn’t I? There is nothing left for me in this world and the pain of seeing the one person I want so fucking much but I can’t have is excruciating.

What am I going to do when she finally moves on and I see her with someone else? That’s going to ruin me, but it’s what I’m asking for. It’s what I want. She needs to be with someone who deserves her heart and can give it back tenfold. I’m not that person, merely a shell.

I could end things. It would certainly erase the pain, but then a part of me thinks about how much that would hurt her and I can’t fucking get myself to do it. I can’t hurt her like that again, even if I won’t be around to see her pain. She fucked up and fell in love with me.In lovewith me. She didn’t say it and she didn’t have to. I knew. I don’t know how I did, but I did.

Maybe because you love her, too.

What a shitty situation… I don’t want to live, but I don’t want to die either. It’s painful, terrifying, hopeless.

A sob so powerful it hurts jolts through my body, and I fall forward on my hands to steady myself.

Look at me, so pathetic, sobbing by myself from the pain I inflicted. But this isn’t just Charley. She’s the main culprit, but it isn’t something I bear from her alone. This is the vengeance my brain has exacted on me. It’s done so for years. It’s the catalyst for refusing to let Charley in any further than I already have.

One day, hopefully, I’ll be able to move on from her. I don’t want anyone else. I just want to get her off my mind for a few seconds. Just four years of college and seeing her every day to suffer through.

I climb to my feet, the task mountainous, but I manage. Then I shower, not bothering to shave. The beard I have going on isn’t bad—a reflection of my mood. I have schoolwork to get done, so I’m going to go for a ride to clear my head, fix myself a sandwich, and get to work.

I pull a black t-shirt over my head, plucking it to get it to sit right on my tacky skin. My torn jeans, as is every other pair in my closet, work just fine. They’re just getting to where they’re comfortable. By the door, my new riding boots are waiting. The one thing I splurged on over the last three weeks because I’ve been riding recklessly. I need the extra support that my work boots won’t provide. Could I afford them? Absolutely not.

Jensen saw them, and magically, someone had paid this month’s rent.

He has said nothing yet about the apartment I stayed in with Charley. I considered moving there, but now I don’t know how I would do being in it after our night together. Would I see her everywhere? Her perfect body naked and waiting for me every time I enter the bedroom?That might be better torture than being in this apartment without Gramma. Then again, maybe not.

Whatever the case, I guess I have the next month to figure it out.

After I’ve folded up the tarp that covers my bike, I swing my leg over and twist the key. It roars to life beneath me, and I give the throttle a few twists. The relief it offers is instant.

Finally, I’m able to take a full breath, to expand my lungs that for a few days, I thought had atrophied. The effects of oxygen are so good it’s ridiculous.

Navigating the parking lot is easy, monotonous. It’s when I get out on the road that I let go of everything on my mind and focus on keeping my bike on the road, my knees low to the pavement in my turns, and my grip on the throttle, taking turns like I’ve practiced for years.

I have no destination in mind when I first start out, but I’ve been riding for some time now when I realize I’ve made it to the south side of Bleudale—Charley’s side. No, not Charley’s side. It’s natural for me to go this way because this is where school is. I drive here every day of the week normally.

I can tell myself that I drive here normally but let’s be honest, two times today I’ve driven here, even though I didn’t attend classes. The thought of sitting next to her in class kills me. So each time I drive to school, I pick up a couple days’ worth of assignments, then sit in the lot just to catch a glimpse.

Once I have my fix each time, I either go back home or pick up some extra shifts at the bookstore if they are offering.

I think they’re taking pity on me and making shifts that aren’t there just so I can keep my mind busy.

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