by Kira Barker
“You don’t strike me as a particularly emotional woman, Erin. Maybe you just need a little more time learning to deal with being completely overwhelmed? As good as it can feel to lose yourself completely, piecing yourself back together can get kind of rough. Another thing you should probably mention to Simon. Just a thought. I’m sure he’ll give you all the space you need, if you need it, but ignore your insistence if you don’t.”
Twisted as that sounded, it really wasn’t the worst piece of advice.
“So what do I do now? Go home and tell him that I can’t handle not being the sole focus of his attention? That pretty much cancels out the whole relationship that we’re trying to build.”
Again, she didn’t react as I’d expected, but then, when did she ever?
“Far be it from me to dish out advice where it’s not my own, but I know a few folks who are poly, and the one thing they all seem to agree on is that communication is key.”
“Not that different from what we should already have going on, with the kink and everything,” I yapped back.
Beth snorted. “And clearly, that’s not the case. But more concrete, one tip I’ve found everyone, even people in more traditional setups, should maybe incorporate is to write your own manual.”
“Come again?”
“Your relationship manual,” she repeated. “A handbook on how you work—what makes you tick, what makes you function, how you need to be treated when A happens, and what you need to fall back to when B occurs. What works for pets and cars can just as easily be applied to human beings.”
I still wasn’t sure if I got that.
“You mean like, write down how I react to something? How should I know that in advance?”
“Of course not everything,” she groused. “But triggers. Like you needing Simon to Dom up when you feel the urge coming on to placate yourself at his feet, while at most other times you need your space. Or that you’re okay with Jack helping him pull you under, but you can’t deal with him as your rival for his attention—in a scene. Or that you will sooner rather than later strangle him if he doesn’t start reusing his coffee mug. I’d definitely add that if I were you, because that habit would drive me insane.”
It was kind of hilarious that he’d mentioned that to her, and, as Beth had intended, it made me smile, if weakly.
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“All relationships are,” she reminded me. “And if you don’t put work into them, they wither and die. I’m not saying that this is the solution to all of your problems, but I think it’s a great first step to do some emotional housecleaning and get back on track. And, wouldn’t you know it, maybe next time you run into a wall, you get back up on your feet and turn right around to tear it down instead of running off?”
“That does sound like a plan,” I admitted, but couldn’t quite share her enthusiasm.
“But?”
I shrugged, getting more uncomfortable about what was still nagging me now that the rest looked a little less like the end of the world.
“There’s still the part of me acting like a total ass?”
Beth’s smile widened.
“Ah. No cure for that, I’m afraid, and likely no solution other than to beg for his forgiveness.”
“Because Simon’s so great about forgiving,” I pointed out.
She didn’t really look concerned.
“I think the issues Jack and Simon have go a lot deeper than just one random fuck-up, even if it was a huge one that dragged the three of you through hell for a couple of hours. Part of that issue might also be that Simon himself is guilty of a few things he hasn’t come to grips with yet, or hasn’t forgiven himself for, so he feels like he doesn’t deserve to move on. Because, if you look at that problem from another angle, him not forgiving Jack also serves the purpose of not allowing Jack to become a more important part in his life, which is something he likely really wants but thinks he doesn’t deserve, for whatever screwed-up reason. Very often we lash out at others because we see fault in ourselves. Do you think that your issue is the same?”
And, just like that, she’d pushed my face into the next ready pie of self-assessment.
“You mean like there’s a deeper reason for why I regularly freak out on Simon after he gives me exactly what I crave?”
“Isn’t there?”
She made that sound as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe to her, it was.
“Like what?”
“I think that’s something you have to explore and find out yourself,” she replied, then looked at the clock behind the bar. “If you leave now, you can still catch the next train and be home before you have second thoughts. Of course you are free to stay and stall, but you said so yourself. The sooner you resolve this, the sooner you can tackle your issues with your family. And, trust me, working things out with the people who sit in the same boat with you is always easier than convincing those who are after you, wielding pitchforks.”
“Now you’re just making me feel all cozy about tomorrow,” I replied, already sliding off my stool.
“Some situations you better head into as if you’re going to battle. Returning home tonight shouldn’t be one of those,” she told me, then added with a surprisingly soft smile, “Just start with ‘I’m sorry,’ and take it from there. You wouldn’t believe what honesty can accomplish sometimes.”
That was probably the best advice she’d given me all evening, and as I left and headed toward the train station, I vowed to myself that I would do my best to stay true to it.
Chapter 21
The lights were still on in the den as I let myself in, making me both anxious and relieved. It was shy of midnight, and I couldn’t have faulted the guys if they’d gone to sleep already, but it was a lot easier not to have to walk in on a picture of domestic bliss with my heart in my throat, just waiting to be ripped out.
Jack was alone where he sat on the couch, already rising as I walked into the room. He looked just as he had when I’d left—although his hair was dry now, as if that mattered—and he only regarded me levelly for a moment before he came over and hugged me, and simply didn’t let go. I hugged him right back, drinking in his warmth and comfort both, letting me know on the most basic level possible that things were going to be all right. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. And it wasn’t until that moment that I realized how much I relied on him having my back to go through with what I knew I had to do.
“I screwed up,” I murmured into his shoulder, not even sure whether I was talking to him or just vocalizing what was on my mind.
“Yeah, you did,” he replied, and when I pushed away enough to look at his face crossly, I saw that he was smiling.
“Smartass.”
“Always,” he admitted, then pulled me back against his chest, squeezing me maybe a little too hard. “But as long as I’m your smartass, nothing else matters. And seeing as I don’t intend to let you get rid of me any time soon, or ever…”
For a moment I almost felt like crying, but that passed quickly—my only saving grace tonight.
“What did I miss?” I asked when he eased up his vise grip on me again.
“Not much. The annoying Miss Alva left soon after, and I’m sure she’s considering dropping Simon as a client now. While ‘moody artist’ seems to be her thing, ‘moody, pissed off sexual deviant’ seems to put her panties in a twist. Or, more likely, she’s just mortally embarrassed about completely misjudging what he clearly just meant as random niceties. It happens.”
“And after that?”
Jack grunted.
“We ordered pizza, and I think Simon ate it all up just to spite you so that when eventually you’d return, you’d just find the empty containers.”
A brief glance at the kitchen counter revealed no left-behind boxes, but then it was highly unlikely that Jack would let them linger a second longer than he had to.
“I’m not really hungry,” I admitted.
“Figur
ed you wouldn’t be,” he replied. “After that, we kind of had a little spat, but mostly because he couldn’t really continue unloading on you because you obviously weren’t around, so I got some of that. I somehow managed not to tell him outright just how ridiculous he was, but I think he got the message eventually, because he turned around mid-sentence and went into his room. Where he still is, refusing to come out, but at least he hasn’t locked the door.”
“You checked?”
“Of course I did,” he huffed. “Fire hazard, anyone?”
That made me smile, if only for a second.
“How does someone with your paranoia manage to let himself get tied up? Or sleep ever, for that matter?”
“Well, I normally do sleep where I can quickly vault off the bed and leave the room,” he pointed out, then sobered up a little. “But I’m not really keen on giving the rest a second shot.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, and really meant it. The part I really felt bad about was probably giving him more than a good dose of his own medicine where self-consciousness was concerned.
But Jack just smiled, stroking the pad of his thumb gently down the side of my neck.
“Not your fault. And your little stunt there has nothing to do with it. I guess we can all acknowledge that it was a bad idea, for all the wrong reasons, in the first place? It’s just not my thing. I mean, I had a good time while it lasted, but if given a choice, I’d rather remain on the other side of the equation. And not just because you’re such an attention hog.”
I didn’t even try to keep the frustration out of my sigh.
“Am I really the last person on Earth to get that?”
He shrugged, that soft smile from before resurfacing. “I bet you one time unloading the dishwasher that Simon is still behind you on that learning curve. But, yeah, you two might just be the most oblivious idiots in the world sometimes.” He paused, then asked what was clearly burning on his tongue. “So where were you? My first guess is Kara, but you don’t smell like booze, so Beth sounds more reasonable.”
“I’m an open book to everyone but the one person who should read me well,” I groaned out, then exhaled slowly. “Do you think I can fix this? Because that really was a fucking stupid thing to say, let alone think.”
Jack seemed to disagree with me on that—if I had to take a guess, the latter part of it—but he didn’t contradict me.
“Only one way to find out, right? If you were asking my advice, which you never do, and likely for very good reasons, I’d just let him rage and mope around a little bit until you can’t take it anymore, and then cut to the chase. Honestly, you both are behaving like idiots, and while I kind of get both sides, I’m not really fond of having to play intermediary punching bag.”
“Sorry about that, too,” I admitted.
“Don’t worry about it. That’s what friends are for. And those who are more than friends even more.” He flashed me a brief grin, then leaned in and stole a quick but surprisingly deep kiss, continuing to murmur on so close that I felt his breath fan across my face. “And I really shouldn’t be saying this, but it feels so fucking good to know that I finally have the place in your life that I need to have.”
That made me pause for a moment.
“So Simon filled in the blanks?”
“As I said, brief spat,” Jack replied, then turned me around in his arms and gave me a soft nudge toward the back hallway. “Go talk to him. If you can at least work out a temporary stalemate, awesome. If not, you’ll sleep with me in my room tonight, and tomorrow morning we’ll give it another go. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and I’m starting to feel like they at least had a roadmap, which we are sorely lacking.”
“Yeah, but why plan when half-assing everything is working so damn fine for us?” I joked, not surprised that neither of us found that particularly funny. “I’ll give it my best shot. Let’s see if that’s enough.”
Jack just nodded and sank back down into the couch cushions, leaving me to fend for myself.
Swallowing thickly, I forced myself to take my next steps. Long before I felt ready, I stood before the closed—but not locked—door of Simon’s bedroom. I hesitated for another moment, but there really was no sense to postponing that. Should I knock? But that seemed equally stupid and might have widened the gap between us further. So I exhaled slowly, grabbed the door handle, and eased the heavy wood open just enough to stick my head and shoulder through.
The room was a bit of a mess, clearly having taken the brunt of Simon’s anger after he couldn’t unload it on Jack anymore. Nothing serious, but a gym bag had been kicked around, and the hamper holding my and Simon’s dirty laundry was toppled over, spilling some of its contents into a corner. Simon was sitting on the bed, pointedly not looking in my direction, surrounded by printouts he pretended to read or correct, but they were just a distraction. He seemed to have calmed down a little, but his hair stood on end after what I knew was repeated frustrated combing of his fingers through it. His shoulders were tense, and the line of his jaw stood out from where he was gnashing his teeth. Could have been worse, but seeing him still upset gave me a lot less satisfaction than it had when I’d stormed out on him.
“Can we talk?” I asked, trying to make my voice sound as soft as possible. I was surprised that it even came out kind of like I wanted it to.
“I guess we just proved that we’re physically capable of it?” he ground out, still not looking up from his work. “The question remains, is there anything worthwhile that you could say?”
Some of my previous anger returned, but that came as no surprise. Just like Jack, he knew exactly how to push my buttons. But the overwhelming feeling of sadness and guilt helped keep my temper in check, so all I did was let out my breath slowly to remain calm.
“I don’t know. Guess we won’t find out until I’ve tried?”
I thought it was the fact that I didn’t go up in his face that finally made him glance at me—not that it was much of an improvement to now see accusation and pain in his eyes. And fury, of course, because neither of us had the grace to go down without trying to tear the other apart. That was the first time it occurred to me just how much Simon and I were alike. With Jack, I was used to that—mostly because growing up together had lent us so many of the identical mannerisms—but Simon? That was new.
“You want to talk? Then talk. You can’t really make things much worse than they already are. Or maybe you can. You do have a talent for that.”
I wasn’t sure if I deserved that, but if it was the worst I’d hear tonight, I could deal with it. Inclining my head, I pushed fully into the room, then closed the door and leaned back against it, keeping my hands at the small of my back—mostly so he wouldn’t see me clench them into fists whenever any of his blows landed.
“Is there anything else you want to get out? Seeing as we’re already airing our dirty laundry?” I suggested, pointedly not looking at the clothes strewn across the floor.
A muscle jumped in Simon’s cheek, and for a moment he hesitated, but then he let me have it.
“I am so fucking sick of you acting like a child, and an immature one at that. I get that you delight in goofing off with Jack, but it’s incredibly annoying when that leaks into more important parts of our lives. And if that wasn’t clear enough, I swear, if you run out on me one more time because you’re avoiding a conflict, I’m done with you, once and for all, and damn the consequences.”
He sounded pissed off enough that it was easy to discard that as an idle threat, but I didn’t think it was just that. It made my stomach flip uncomfortably and my heart seize up, but I forced myself to give a curt nod. “Okay. What else?”
Simon continued to stare at me, clearly not wanting to give me the benefit of letting me read whatever he thought of that.
“If what you said is actually true—“
“It’s not,” I quickly interrupted him, earning myself a glare, but I couldn’t let that stand between us for another second.
“We
ll, then, if it was true, why are we even trying to make this work? Why should I bother with putting up with your airs if I’m fighting a losing battle anyway?”
That was a lot harder to deal with than I’d expected.
“First off, I’m sorry that I said that.”
“Now you are,” he amended. “Maybe.”
“I am,” I stressed, letting out a shaky breath. “Simon, I don’t want to hurt you. I am really sorry. It was a stupid, fucked-up thing to say, and I didn’t even really mean it. Not even when I was livid and pissed off and lashing out. I know that’s no excuse, but sometimes there’s a disconnect in my brain between what I should say and what I actually do say…”
“Oh, don’t you say,” he replied, almost joking. Neither of us smiled, but if I wasn’t completely mistaken, he sounded a little less gruff than before.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t just discover this most charming side of me tonight,” I replied. “And while I can promise to try to work on bettering myself, I’m not sure I actually can. Like Jack, like you yourself, I’m a package deal, massive flaws included.”
“And I’m sure you’re burning to explain these flaws of mine to me now?”
Shit. I really hadn’t seen that coming, but, case in point, I should have.
“You know how I meant that,” I said flatly, trying to put on a brave face. “But, okay, if you want to hear it, the fact that when you’re pissed off you take me too fucking literally is damn annoying. Happy now?”
“Not at all.”
“Well, neither am I!” I chuffed, then forced myself to even out my voice again. “I am really sorry. And I don’t know how to make you see or understand that. I know it was stupid of me to not talk about this but instead to take the easy way and run off. It happens. It happens a fucking lot more than I want it to, and that annoys me about myself to the point where I—“
I stopped there, casting around for words that just wouldn’t come.
“But try as you might to explain it away, I don’t think that you were lying,” Simon replied, and the lack of heat in his voice now was scarier than his open anger before. I mulled that over for a second, then offered a rather uncomfortable shrug.
