by Aly Martinez
“It’s my favorite spot. Leah’s husband’s family owns this land. Every year, when it gets cold enough, they clear the pond and use it for skating.”
“Is it safe?”
“Of course, crazy. Wait, you do weigh less than the tractor that cleared it, right?” he jokes, and I shoot him a death glare. “Here.” He pulls out a pair of skates from his bag.
“You did not buy me ice skates!” My yell echoes back at me.
“Okay, you sit here and freak out about a pair of cheap skates, but I’m going to take this pond for a spin. Let me know when you get over it, and I’ll help you so you don’t bust your ass.” He steps onto the ice and flies away.
I watch him glide around for a few minutes. I hate it that he’s right. The skates probably only cost him fifty bucks, but he needs to learn to talk to me first. I have a perfectly respectable pair hanging in my closet. Sure, these are really awesome—powder blue with white glittery laces—but I didn’t need them.
“Jesse James, chop chop! You can worry about it later. I’ll even give you the receipt so you can be fully informed in your obsessing, but right now, you need to get your sexy ass out here. I’ll teach you. Stop procrastinating.”
I let out an annoyed sigh. Rising to my feet, I take a few shaky steps toward the ice. Just before the edge, I reach out and grip his hands for balance.
“I’ve got you. One foot at a time. Just slide forward. I’ll keep you balanced.”
He holds my arms, skating backwards as he pulls me forward. I slip once and almost fall, but he lifts me off my feet and places me back down in front of him. He wraps an arm around my hips and curls me into his hard body.
“All right. Let’s go slow. I don’t want you to end up covered in bruises.”
Leisurely, we spend the next hour arm in arm, gliding around the frozen pond. True to his word, Brett never lets me fall, but I never let go of him. It felt amazing to spend the day tucked tightly under his arm. I would keep up the ruse all day, but of course, Brett has to open his mouth.
“So what do you want to do tonight?” he asks when we flop down together on the bench.
“Um, maybe stay in. We can go to your place and I’ll cook dinner. Something quiet.”
“Jesse, you cooked dinner every day last week. Let me take you out this weekend.”
“No, your idea of out is very different than mine.”
“What is that supposed to mean?
“It means you take me to delicious, fancy restaurants that most girls would adore, but really I just want to go to the sports bar and eat wings.”
“Gorgeous, you don’t eat wings. You loved dinner last night. You squealed when the waitress brought your food out.”
Dang it, he’s right. The food was amazing.
“Can we please just stay in tonight and let me cook?”
“You’re going to be sore tonight. While I don’t mind rubbing you down later, I don’t want you standing over the stove cooking. You have no idea the muscles you use when skating.”
“If I can prove to you that I won’t be sore tonight, can we hang out at home?”
“You can’t prove you won’t be sore, gor—”
Not even waiting for him to finish, I jump up and sprint my way around the ice. I make a full circle, skating with ease.
I’ve actually been skating since I was a kid. I’m not a figure skater or anything, but I can probably skate as well as Brett. It was fun to watch him baby me though. He took such good care of me and kept me tucked into his body. I was more than happy to play the ‘helpless woman in need of rescue’ role. He looked like he was really enjoying it.
I slowly glide back in front of Brett, who is sitting with his mouth hanging open, a lip curled in disgust.
“I promise I won’t be sore. Can we please stay home tonight?”
“Yes, we can stay in, but you’re definitely going be sore, and I’m not talking about from skating.” He flies off the bench, throwing me over his shoulder and spinning in circles around the ice. Maybe I don’t skate as well as Brett after all.
The rest of the day on the pond is a blast. We act like kids, challenging each other to races and arguing about who wins. Brett is only slightly annoyed that I pretended not to know how to skate, but he is very annoyed that he didn’t already know that about me. So we spend the afternoon sharing silly facts about ourselves.
We are frozen, but I think we are both reluctant to leave our little picturesque haven. We drive home, still chattering about anything and everything. It really is perfect.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Brett
I’M AN ass. I know it. You know it. And tonight, Jesse learns it. We just spent the best day together. She hustled me again. I really should start expecting that from her. She told me random facts about the real Jesse Addison. Like how she color coordinates her M&M’s before eating them and how she has some weird obsession with new socks. I felt whole today while skating around the pond with her. And it scared the shit out of me.
Jesse has wedged her way deep into my heart. She loves me. I can see it every time she looks at me. It kills me to see such emotion in her eyes, knowing that I can’t give her back what she deserves. Do I care about Jesse? Unquestionably. Do I see a future with her? Yes, for as long as she is willing to stick around. Can I be the man she deserves? Absolutely not.
We got back from our day at the pond and jumped directly into the hot shower. We were both still shivering, even after the long drive home with the heat on full blast. I would have been fine with a cup of coffee, but when Jesse suggested the shower, I felt obligated to take advantage of her naked body. I’m a gentleman like that.
I gave her a few orgasms in the shower before carrying her to the bed to retrieve a condom to finish things off. That’s one thing I don’t play about. We’re always safe. Even though she is on the pill, the last thing I need is to bring a baby into this fucked-up life of mine. Maybe one day, but that is so far in the future that it doesn’t even register on radar.
The sex is always amazing with Jesse. Her body was made for me. Every curve of her small frame is nothing short of spectacular. For a girl who is so shy in other aspects, Jesse is not afraid to tell me how she wants it in bed. I roll on a condom and she tosses her inhibitions out the window. Fully clothed, she still blushes when I tell her what I want to do, but once she’s naked, she gives as well as she takes.
“Stop!” I yell as she straddles my lap, tickling my oversensitive stomach.
“Say it.”
“No, I’m not ticklish. I’m a fucking man!”
She continues laughing as I squirm underneath her. “Say it, Brett. I’m not stopping until you say it.”
I have no idea who she thinks she is. The only reason all one hundred pounds of her are still sitting on top of me is because I like the way she feels naked, sitting on my stomach, and still wet for me. She reaches back and teasingly drags her nails up my sides, causing me shout.
“Sarah, stop!”
The entire world stops turning. I immediately go still, and I’m not even sure if Jesse is breathing.
“You just called me Sarah,” she says so quietly that I can barely decipher the words from breaths.
I know exactly what she said though. I have two ears. I heard the name come out of my mouth. I look up to see her sitting frozen, staring down with the sparkle of tears forming in her eyes.
“What? No I didn’t!” I laugh. We both know it’s a lie, but I can’t help the fact that I say it anyway.
Staring into her eyes, I can see her gears turning as she tries to figure out her next move. I know I need to say something. I don’t have an explanation though. I have no idea why Sarah’s name flew out of my mouth in that moment. But like the true dumbass that I am, I just lie still and wait for her reaction.
Finally, after a few minutes of silence, she screams, “Shit, I knew it! You still love her!” She jumps out of bed and begins whirling around the room, grabbing random clothing as she goes. Damn, I really
should have said something before her mind went there.
“Jesse, get back here.”
Her eyes are wild, looking like she just woke from a horrible nightmare. It’s hard to tell, though, if she is genuinely hurt or just downright pissed that I said something so off-the-charts stupid.
“Are you kidding me? You just called me your wife’s name. In bed. Oh God, that makes it sound even worse. She isn’t even your ex-wife.” She’s talking a mile a minute, working herself into more of a frenzy. “Christ, how is this even happening right now? Damn it, where is my bra?!” She screams the last sentence as if it’s the punctuation to her rage.
“Jesse, STOP!” Wrapping the sheet around my waist, I cautiously step in her direction, afraid that, if I move too fast, she’ll bolt. I gently grab her wrists as she frantically tries to pull her shirt over her head, apparently giving up on finding the bra altogether.
“I need to go.” She pulls away, snatching her hands out of my grasp while backing towards the door. She doesn’t get far before I grab her perfectly curved waist, letting my fingers splay across to her back. God, I’d give anything just to get her back in bed.
“Please don’t do this, Jess. It just came out. I’m sorry…I…” I trail off, mumbling something about how it means absolutely nothing. But I’m not really sure what it means at all.
“You’re still in love with her.”
It’s not a question. It’s a declaration of fact—and just enough to push me over the edge of rational thinking. I should be apologizing to her, but something inside me snaps. Using her to replace Sarah isn’t just her worst fear—it’s mine as well.
“What do you want me to say? That I’ve never been with a woman before you? For fuck’s sake, you know I can’t tell you that!” I yell as she stands perfectly still, startled by my sudden outburst.
She’s oblivious to why the verbal shitstick she just poked me with has lit me on fire. I can see the hurt and confusion in her eyes, but I can’t find it in myself to care right now.
Still wrapped in a sheet, I start pacing the room, feeling trapped for the very first time since Jesse landed in my bed. Call me crazy, but I don’t want to sit here and hash out my feelings like it’s a God damned therapy session. I want to walk across the room, wrap her soft body in my arms, and pretend this never happened. Maybe take her back to the room, lay her across the bed, and bury myself to the hilt, losing myself inside her. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be impressed if she ever lets me touch her again. But again, like a dumbass, I say nothing else.
“Just tell me you are not still in love with her,” she whispers carefully, almost begging.
Seeing her so lost and helpless is my undoing. I stride over to her, losing my anger and the sheet on the way, reaching out to grab her only to have her swat my hands away.
“Please, Brett. Just answer the damn question. Are you still in love with her?”
The threatened tears finally escape the corner of her eyes. I manage to wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her to my chest. But she doesn’t nestle close. Her arms hang at her side and her eyes are glazed over as she looks anywhere but at me. A steady stream of tears are falling from her face, soaking my arm. She never moves a muscle, not even to wipe her eyes. This might be the worst punishment of all.
I could deal with her being angry. I could deal with her turning into a crazy woman, throwing things around the room. But to look down at this woman, who is usually so vibrant and energetic, and see her so defeated is more than I can take. I just don’t have an answer to give her. Especially not the answer she wants to hear. Am I still in love with Sarah? No. Yes. Fuck if I know.
I do know I’m not going to figure this all out right now. Where is the rewind button like in that silly Adam Sandler movie? Christ, just let me go back five minutes and say the right woman’s name. A Freudian slip. A Freudian fucking slip is going to cause me to lose the best thing that has happened to me in four years. And I can do nothing but sit here and try to hold on to yet another broken woman.
“I have to go,” she repeats.
Maybe I should let her leave. Maybe if she goes home and sleeps on it, she’ll forget all about the fact that I called her my wife’s name. Shit, I am such a bastard. Who does that? I’ll tell you who. Brett fucking Sharp. Asshole extraordinaire.
I could go into hiding and reemerge a few days from now, when she’s had a chance to cool off. We can go right back to the crazy, sex-filled, serious-yet-unlabeled relationship we have had for the last few months. Nothing will change. Even my ridiculously hopeful mind knows this is a bullshit plan.
“I really have to go,” Jesse finally says, the somber inflection of her words breaking through my thoughts.
“Babe, please. Don’t leave like this. Let me grab some beers. We can cook dinner, watch reruns…whatever you want to do. I’m sorry. Just stay tonight. We can figure this out tomorrow.” The desperation in my voice does nothing sway her.
“Let me go, Brett.”
“No,” I childishly reply, hoping that one word is enough to make her stay. See? I told you. Total dumbass.
“Let. Me. Go.”
I know she isn’t talking about physically releasing her anymore. I get the sinking feeling that, somewhere in this huge crap-tastic misunderstanding, she was hoping for some grand gesture or declaration of love. Yet my silence has spoken more words than everything else I’ve ever said combined.
So I do the only thing I know to do. I hold her tighter than humanly possible. I can hear her breath catch and her grunt in discomfort, but I know that, when I let go, she’s walking out my door. And just like Sarah, she will probably never come back. Maybe calling her Sarah wasn’t so wrong after all.
A minute later, I lean down, kiss her hair, and finally do what I should have done after our first night together. I let Jesse walk away.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jesse
THIS IS all my fault. This is what I get for falling in love with an unavailable man. The bridge is officially crumbling under my feet, and instead of holding on like I swore I would do, I walked away. But I don’t see Brett rushing after me, begging me to stay. He’s probably cracking open a beer and pretending none of this ever happened right about now. He’s good at denial. I am too, usually, but I can’t stay trapped in that relationship anymore.
I love him. I could have gotten over his calling me Sarah if he’d told me how he really felt about me. About us. Brett fought harder to make me stay months ago when we had only been on one date. This time, he had nothing to say. He looked at me with no more words than he had emotions. No sun and fog romantic speech. Tonight, I got a hug and nothing but bone-chilling silence. He always says I make his world go silent. So I guess it’s a fitting end for us.
I tried to do what my mom, Caleb, and Kara had all urged me to do. I tried to give him time. Granted, five months isn’t long, but it’s all I have to give. It took me half of that to realize I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I knew this was going to be hard. He told me he couldn’t commit or make me any promises, but I thought we had moved past that. We’ve come a long way since that night by his car when I poured my heart out to him. Heck, we might as well be living together. But tonight said it all. All I’ve ever done is fight for us. In the beginning, I was willing to do that because Brett was fighting too.
Now, as I walk down the cold street, trying to hail a cab, I see it all too clearly. Sarah is the only woman Brett will ever truly fight for.
Brett
THE PAIN in my chest is unbearable. The noises of the world are swirling around my head. I’ve now officially failed both of the women who have trusted me with their hearts. Sarah might be the broken one, but I’m damaged beyond repair too. I won’t be the same after Jesse. There is no way I can put myself out there just to selfishly crush another unsuspecting woman. Why the hell couldn’t I just open my mouth and fucking tell her how I feel? I know I feel…something. I just can’t figure out what that something is.
&n
bsp; I snatch my phone off the table and try to stop myself from dialing her number. Maybe I should call and apologize. And tell her what? That I still can’t give her what she wants from me. It’s been five fucking minutes. Nothing has changed. Instead, I dial Caleb.
“What’s up?” he answers—thankfully. It’s Saturday night. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be in the middle of banging his way through the female population of Chicago.
“I need a drink.”
“I’m kind of busy. Can we do it tomorrow?” I hear a woman’s voice in the background. Obviously, I was right about his activities tonight.
“Jesse left.”
“To go where?”
“I called her Sarah and she bolted. I’m pretty sure we’re done. I need to get drunk or I’m going to end up destroying my apartment. You in or not?”
“Shit! I’m about twenty minutes away. Want to meet at the bar?” he says as the woman begins to whine in the background.
“Sounds good.”
“Hey, what did you say to her after you called her Sarah?”
I let out a loud sigh. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Fuck, you’re an idiot. I’ll be there soon.”
“Thanks,” I reply, but he’s already hung up.
* * *
TWENTY MINUTES later, I’m sitting at the bar, relishing in the burn as Jack Daniel’s slides down my throat.
“She loves you. What the hell are you doing sitting here with me?” Caleb asks when I finish telling him the whole story. Usually Caleb and I would bullshit about work or football, but as much as it pisses me off, he and Jesse are close.
“She left,” I say, annoyed.
“So?” he responds like I’m the biggest dumbass in the entire state of Illinois. He’s probably not too far off the mark tonight.
“What was I supposed to do? I can’t tell her I love her!” I yell, slapping against the bar for another shot.
“And you think that’s the only thing that would make her stay? Not ‘I’m crazy about you’ or ‘I’m fucked up but I don’t want to be with anyone else’?” he says, pulling away the new shot in front of me and tossing it back.
