by J. R. Rogue
Fucking one probably wasn't either, but what could it hurt? I was already too damaged, too broken up. My safe place awaited me back in Missouri. But I was not ready.
I was not riddled with enough scares. I swiveled in my seat and watched Wade sing. He didn't look my way and I felt the challenge. I needed him to acknowledge me. I needed the reminder that he wanted me. His voice made my skin flush.
When the set ended, Wade left the bar and I felt a bubble of rage take over me. I broke my shoes in the streets and Kate bought me a new pair. I was about to drive away in an Uber when Wade told me to come to my favorite bar in Nashville. I was standing outside of it, wondering how he got in. Then I remembered he played there. He probably came in through the back.
I added him to my list. When I sobered up, later that night, after he fed me water for an hour, I took his clothes off in his downtown apartment. I forgot Logan and I forget Connor and I pretended I had new skin. I stole Wade's shirt the next morning and I never saw him again. I wrote poems about him just because he was easy to romanticize, but you can't build a life off of men like that. You can build one off of men who see all your shattered pieces, who let you break them, but still want you.
Connor wanted me. I didn't know why, after everything I did. After Logan, and my leaving. I could never forgive someone for that. I forgave Connor for so much so many years ago, but now I was the villain again.
We were always switching hats. I wanted a balance. I wanted us to love each other at the same time. To have the same fire, the same passion.
There was a numbness in me now that I wasn't sure would ever fade away.
I thought when my stepfather died, it would go away, but all summer I had been burning bridges, hurting myself.
How can you explain away the feeling of sadness you have when your stepfather, the only father you’ve ever known, dies? When it's the same stepfather who molested you? There is a hate there, a self-hate, that cannot be washed away. I once wanted children, and he stole that from me. I felt like a broken car on the side of the road. He was the freeway, stretching out into oblivion.
67
Past Repeating Itself
“The first time I felt jealousy again, I was dropping something off for Connor. I was back in my old neighborhood, so I stopped in with one of his old ball caps. It was stuck in with my summer clothes. When I saw the car parked on the street in front of my old house I felt my face blaze, but I lied to myself, I told myself it had to belong to someone across the street. When Connor answered the door, my old door, he was shirtless and sleepy eyed. I gave him his ball cap and left quickly, not hearing what he was calling after me.”
“Who was it?”
I smile, because now, she is no threat to my heart. “A married woman. An ex.”
“Sounds like the past repeating itself.”
“Yes, different weapons, different hands. I couldn’t blame him. I was stringing him along, going for walks with him. Holding his hand when he reached for it. I never let myself kiss him. I never let myself sleep with him. I worried I would just slip back into my old life, and I wasn’t ready for it. I still had goodbyes to say.”
68
Bad Penny
I don’t know why I said yes. Having dinner at Connor’s house would be considered a bad idea, to any other person but me. But I was curious. I wanted to know what my house looked like. I wanted to see if a woman had been inside. If the car I had seen after I returned from Nashville was a figment of my imagination.
When I showed up he walked out of my old gate, to my car door. He opened it and smiled. I saw everything my friends had talked about. His waist was even more narrow, his shoulders more swollen than the last time I saw him. He had a sheen of sweat on his brow.
"What have you been doing?" I glanced over his shoulder, through the open gate, into my old backyard.
"Grilling. Do kabobs sound okay?" His voice was so casual, like we were friends now, or still together. Not a mess of two exes taking walks, holding hands, sleeping with other people. Or, at least I was anyway. I needed to find out if he was.
"Yeah, that's fine." I followed him into my old yard. His dog, our dog, ran up to me and I crouched down to pet him.
"I'll grab you a drink. Head on out back to the deck."
I stood up and walked through the yard, taking in the scenery. He had planted new plants. I peeked into the window that led to the backyard. I was greeted by more greenery. Potted plants. So he was buying them for himself too this past spring.
I always killed them, but I couldn't stop buying them when I lived here. I wanted to start over every spring. I had this hope I could keep something alive.
I had been sitting in the backyard for just a moment when Connor came back, a glass of red, pinkish liquid in his hand.
"What’s that?" I pointed to the glass and watched him set it in front of me on the patio table.
"Cape-codder."
I reached forward and took the glass. "I hope you don't care, Kate is coming by to join us." I needed a crutch. He knew it.
"Afraid to be alone with me?" He smiled and walked to the grill.
"Maybe," I said to his back, now facing me. It was going to be so damn awkward. I could tell already.
When Kate showed up, I was half lit. She gave me a knowing smirk and maybe rolled her eyes. I couldn't tell. We settled into the same kind of easy banter we always enjoyed. Connor made fun of Kate. I played referee.
Later, the conversation entered into dangerous territory. "It's not like you have both been celibate since you broke up," Kate mocked. She knew what I had been up to, and I felt bad. From what I heard, Connor hadn't been out at all. He had been staying home, or at the gym. Working odd and long hours. There was still the mystery of the car though. Maybe he could shed some light on that.
Connor wore a smirk when I met his eyes.
My face went red. No blush, just anger. "Who have you slept with?" I narrowed my eyes. I didn't have a right to know. I had slept with someone new, more than one someone new. He knew it. Everyone knew it. I felt a sick sadness. A betrayal that I had no right to own. He swore he loved me and now I was learning he had slept with someone new? "What's her name?" I asked. I could see Kate squirm in her seat.
"Doesn't matter." Connor was still smiling, swirling his Jack and Coke.
"Is it someone I know?" Who did I know that Connor would go out and find?
"Yes. It is."
I racked my brain. Connor never looked at other women while we were together. His eyes were only for me, even through the years we barely spoke. I didn't expect him to continue to only look my way after I left him, but maybe some part of me hoped he had. I wanted him to wait for me but I couldn't promise I would come back. I was transported back in time. To the year we met. I always wanted what I couldn't have. Had he moved on? Was this a dinner to tell me he was dating someone new?
"Are you with her? This girl?"
"No. I only want you. You know that." His smile was gone, his dark eyes were almost black.
"But you've been with someone else. Doesn't sound like it." I had some nerve, giving him shit for sleeping with someone after all that I had done. But I wasn't the one claiming to still be in love. I told him I had fallen out of love with him when I left. The vodka made me spiteful. I thought of the last time I had vodka, Wade and his hands, his musical voice. I had thrown away the shirt I stole when I got back to Missouri.
"I needed someone to distract me. I only want you and I've been going about this the wrong way. I should have remembered who you are. I want you to be jealous. Are you jealous?"
Kate stood up. "Okay, I should go. This is very, very awkward for me."
I waved at her, distracted, my only thought on who Connor slept with. "Do I know her? Tell me that."
"Yes, I said that." He laughed. He always made fun of me for repeating myself when I was drunk.
I pulled out my phone and tapped on the Facebook app. I didn't know what I was looking for. Maybe a face would catch my ey
e, jog my memory. Connor didn't have Facebook. If it was someone I knew, maybe I was friends with her. A name popped into my head. A bad name. A bad penny. I grabbed the drink in front of me and downed it. "You've got to be kidding me.” I said it out loud, not to Connor maybe, just to get the words out.
"What?"
"Penny? Why does she always have to put her hands on what I have? And isn't she married?"
"Yes, she is. They are splitting up." He stirred his drink again, and we simmered in the silence. "And you don't have me. You gave me away, for him."
He didn’t seem mad when he said it. More amused, knowing he had me. I’d fallen right into his trap. I couldn’t believe it. "Was it in our bed?"
"Yes."
I felt a warmth move through me, a slow rolling of rage and possession. It was my house. He was mine. That bed was mine, we bought it together. He was mine. She wouldn’t have him. No.
I fucked Connor that night, on the patio table, inside on the deep-freezer, in our old bed. I wish I could say we made love, we fell back together, but that would be a lie. The truth was that I didn’t want another woman touching him. I didn’t want another woman pulling him from me. I didn’t want to lose him. I realized it that night, but I wasn’t ready for him to know.
69
Anything
Connor
My pride used to be something I guarded. I no longer cared about it. I had been ripped open and stretched thin. The past few months had been the most trying of my life.
I took after my mother physically. She had a full head of grey hair, pepper and white, and it was beautiful. My 31st birthday was fast approaching and more grey had grown in since Gwen left me than any other year of my life. Losing her was a blow like no other.
Now, possibly, hopefully, I nearly had her back. And I didn't feel more at ease.
Well, sometimes I did. On the nights she came to my place, her old home, I slept well.
Ever since the night I invited her over for a BBQ she had been spending more time with me. I know her. I've known her for years and I know what it takes to get her desire. I didn't see it at first.
I thought if I told her how much I loved her, how sorry I was, she would come back. Getting through to her with honest words and confessions was useless. She only wanted what she couldn't have.
That's how Gwen operated. She wanted to compete, to win. I had to let her, for a moment, believe she could lose me to another. I knew she would want me again if she knew I was moving on, or thought I was. So I tricked her. I didn't care that it was silly. Anything to have her back. That's what I would do. Anything.
I wanted to propose again. To hear her tell me she loved me the way I loved her. To know she wanted a life with me. To know she was serious about us again. That it wasn't just passing time, what we were doing.
Those years we spent drifting apart, I didn't want to repeat them.
I wanted to show her I was a new man, a new lover, her partner.
She said I didn't try hard enough to get over her. And I agreed because I never wanted to. Not really. I distracted myself. I went through the motions. I just tried to survive, but I needed more.
70
Foolish
“Did finding out Connor had slept with another woman bring you back to him?”
“It pulled me to him. And I started to feel like we could try again. We started to spend more time together after that night. It reminded me of years ago, I would go over late at night, except now it was he who wanted more. I was unsure, like he had been before we got together. It was a dance, you know? And I felt like I had a goodbye to take care of.”
“Logan?” His name. His beautiful name.
“Yes. I was still in love with him. I knew we would never be together, deep in my gut, but I wanted to see him one last time. I wanted to see him when I flew to Seattle and I couldn’t give my heart back to Connor until I closed that door.” I was so sure I could make my heart obey my rules back then. So foolish.
“Were you able to close that door when you saw him again?” She knows the answer but she wants me to say it.
“No. It wasn’t even closed when I said my vows to Connor the next year.”
71
I Love You, I Love You
I had one free day during my work trip to Seattle. Joe and I were like strangers, we wouldn’t be sleeping together, or even hanging out while out of town together. We barely spoke on the plane. It really hammered home that we had nothing in common, and years ago the only thing that brought us together was our physical attraction to each other.
Before I left I texted Logan, telling him an approximate time I would be in my hotel room. I had been up front with him. I told him that soon, I would be off the market.
He didn’t ask questions. He had no right to. He knew how I felt and his silence said everything.
Once, over the summer, after downing a few drinks I came close to telling him. Instead, I asked him a question.
“Do you know how I feel about you?” I asked. I love you, I love you.
“Yes. Yes I do.”
The sound of the waves reached through his phone to me. I wondered about other girls’ bare feet, if they left with sand in their shoes, after walking along the coast with him. We never spoke of it again. I wasn’t the begging kind.
In Seattle, I made it to my room early, my phone buzzed in my hand as I inserted my keycard with the other.
I walked into my room, threw my purse on the bed, and rolled my suitcase to the chaise lounge in the corner. The screen of my phone made my face warm and crimson when I looked at it.
Logan: I’m downstairs. I couldn’t wait.
When I opened the door, I bit my lip and cursed myself for the cliché. I couldn’t help it. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder, no suitcase. We only had this day and it was a thorn, a blister. He walked in and dropped his bag, gathering me into his arms. I was lost in the scent of his hair, it was longer, the four months since I last saw him felt tangible.
I wanted to cry, but we had become this tragedy, this walking reminder that love is not enough, especially when only one was in love.
I let go, grabbing his hand, pulling him to the bed.
“How was your flight?”
“Horrible. I barely slept.” We had arrived at the airport at 4 a.m. I hadn’t slept the night before, I couldn’t stop thinking about Logan and Connor and my guilt and my desire. Everything was mixed, muddled.
“Let’s sleep,” he said, kicking off his shoes, undoing his watch.
I watched him. Like art, he could make me move, tiny beats of my heart felt like thunder in the distance.
We crawled under the puffy white covers and he pulled me back to his chest. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t sleep. I felt warmth between my thighs, my breathing was erratic.
“This isn’t going to work,” I said, my voice muffled into the pillow.
“What isn’t?” he asked, and I pushed my ass back into him in reply. He was hard and I was thinking of all the nights I lay in bed wondering if I would ever kiss him again, ever feel him inside of me.
We shed our clothes and he entered me from behind. I cried out when he pulled on my hair, I needed this. I needed his inaudible sighs, his muffled wants.
I disconnected and turned, climbing on top of him, staring into his green eyes. What can be said without words? With only fucking and a frantic need to hold on? We made it last, then fell asleep holding each other. Before his breath turned deep and heavy, he spoke into my hair.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
I believed him. He missed me, but he did not love me.
Later, we showered together, our skin had become sticky with sweat and sex.
He stepped in ahead of me. I watched him, the shower stream pouring between us, a divide. He had his eyes closed, a hair tie in his teeth.
I watched and I tasted the salt on my lips, ripped from my own eyes, as he gathered his long golden hair. His body danced and his jaw was glass.
I wanted to cut myself on it.
When he was done, his locks secured on the top of his head, he opened his eyes and found mine. “What?” he asked. He could read me.
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
I wasn’t flirting. I couldn’t say goodbye, not with the proper words, so I said this. I wanted him to remember that when I stopped taking his calls. When our friendship was no longer the last thing we clung to. I couldn’t remain friends with him when I went back to Connor.
And I had decided that I would.
72
Love Is Never Enough
“Logan assumed, and it hurt him. He assumed that when I told him I would soon be off the market, I was getting into a relationship with someone new. That I would still be within his reach, easily pulled from a lover. He had done it before, maybe he assumed he could do it again."
"Could he have pulled you from someone other than Connor?"
"Of course. But he wouldn't pull me from Connor again. Love is not enough. Not by a long shot. I loved Logan but I couldn't be that girl anymore, the one who waits and wonders what's wrong with her. I got engaged to Connor on a Saturday. He bent on one knee in the living room of my trailer before a shopping trip. I wasn’t surprised. We had been back together for a week. It had been two weeks since I last saw Logan. I hadn’t heard from him, and I hadn’t reached out. I closed doors so firmly, sometimes. I told myself that getting back with Connor would be done the right way. No more falseness, no more halfway. I knew when we got back together we would get engaged quickly. Why start from the beginning? Maybe we should have, he was a new person, and so was I."
