His Rebound Love

by Melissa Bender

  “Your sister needs help with their new hot water cylinder. Something about changing the element and thermostat before the plumber turns up.” He kissed Mum on the cheek and brought his mug of coffee over to the table. “She called last night asking for help.”

  “And Paul can’t do it himself?” I questioned. The lazy bastard rarely did any of their home maintenance. I had been around a couple of times and found my sister mowing the lawn while Paul was spread out on the couch, a beer in hand as he watched the AFL.

  “Jackson…” Mum’s tone warned me. “He works hard, and your father offered.”

  “We all work hard.” I pointed out, trying to point out that Dad was meant to take it easy since his heart attack a few months back. Frowning when she placed a mountain of eggs and bacon down in front of me, I say, “I’ve got to run. Can’t eat all of that.” I stood with the coffee in my hand.

  “Please eat something. You’ve barely eaten anything since…”

  “Since Jasmine and I broke up?” I finished for her. An uncomfortable silence grew between us. “It’s not taboo to talk about our break up. It’s over, and I’m moving on.”

  “Is that what you’re going to do? Move on?” she asked, raising a brow.

  How the fuck would I know?

  “I don’t know.” I didn’t want to get into all these right now. Not when I had work in half an hour. “I have a meeting in forty. I need to be in the office before that.” I would lie my way out of this one.

  “When will you be going over to the house?” Dad spoke up, and I looked at him. “I can give you a hand. Just let me know.”

  This should have been easy to answer. The truth was, I had forgotten that I would need to go back and pack the rest of my gear up. Fuck. There went the ounce of good feeling I felt today. “I’ll let you know.” I needed to high-tail it before they asked about anything else.

  Coffee downed, I grabbed two of the breakfast muffins from the plate, opened them up, and shoved the strips of bacon and scrambled egg inside, squirting tomato sauce before slapping them together once more. Now I had an easily fixed, breakfast muffin to go. I gave Mum a wink as I took a huge mouthful. “Thanks for breakfast. Amazing, as always” It came out as a muffled groan as I headed to the door, picking up my leather case with my freehand.

  Being unfocused wasn’t like me at all. I worked and worked hard. I always give one hundred and ten percent. Today, though, I found myself not giving a fuck about anything, and that bothered me. It agitated me to the point that I couldn’t concentrate on anything at all. I had only been here an hour, and I wanted to leave as soon as my eyes spotted the photograph of her on my desk. She had that big, bright smile on her face, and her arms were around my neck. It was a close-up selfie that we took on our first date.

  Swallowing hard, I felt her eyes on me from the bin where I tossed the picture in. I stood up and walked over to the printer, pulling out the paper tray and dumping its contents directly in the bin. Every single piece was now sitting on top of that picture, and it still irked at me.

  Rubbing my temples, I let out a low groan and closed my eyes. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t be here and forget the last forty-eight hours that ruined my life.

  I got up to leave my desk, walking out of my office to my boss’s door. It was closed, but it was always like that. I knocked on Brenton’s door and entered. He wasn’t busy. He was just at his desk texting. Closing the wooden door behind me with a soft click, I cleared my throat. “You got a minute?” I asked, taking the chair in front of him. It was barely past ten, and I felt like a jackass for what I was about to ask.

  “Sure, what’s up?” he looked up, looking stressed, and it didn’t help my guilt at all. His phone dropped with a clunk on the wooden table. “Sorry, my wife just told me about a dinner we’re going to, and I really don’t want to go to my mother-in-law’s.” He shook his head, laughing. “Women.”

  I nodded and stretched my long legs out, my palms on my thighs rubbing on the fabric of my slacks. “I need to ask a favour.”

  “You fucked up, Jack? What am I covering for?” His wide grin almost made me want to knock it out of him. Not really, but I could just about knock out anyone who smiled like that at me right now.

  “Nothing like that,” I assured him. “I need to take a couple days off.” I didn’t take days off, ever. I worked hard.

  He leant in forwards, his brows creased in line. His brown eyes were squinting as he focused in on me. “Everything alright?” As much of a shit-stirrer he was, he was a friend first. He was like family to me.

  “Jas and I broke up.” I spared him the details. There was no need to rehash the humiliation of my girl doing another man. “I hate to ask, but…” My voice faltered. All words failed me.

  Waving me off with his hand, he stood up. “No buts about it. Take the week off, and if you need more time, take it. I get it. Breakups are fucking tough.”

  He spoke to me like he knew, but he didn’t. He had no fucking clue. “You married your high school sweetheart.” I pointed out. Rubbing my palms over my navy slacks, I glanced at my shoes. They were freshly polished but undeniably worn. I should buy a new pair soon.

  He laughed heartily. Noticing him smiling when I lifted my head back up, I could tell he was thinking about his wife. “Yes, true. I just meant I’d be a mess if my wife left me. Just don’t do anything stupid, all right? I need you back here.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, pushing myself upright. “I’m back at Mum’s. She won’t let me do anything too outrageous. Well, she’d probably come with me and take the blame if I did.”

  “Are you sure she hasn’t put a tracker on that suit?” His grin was back. He knew just how my mother could be at times. She was just like his wife. Poor bastard, married someone just like his mother. I refused to do that.

  I just shook my head as I loosened my tie. “Should I tell her to stop with my cakes each week then?”

  “Don’t. We’ll all starve without her weekly sugar basket.”

  I just laughed as I left the room. It felt somewhat good to laugh, but it felt fake. I didn’t feel the need to tell anyone else what was going on. Brenton would do that tomorrow. He would probably tell them I was taking a holiday. I was taking a week off to get myself together and figure out some things.

  By things, I meant Jack or Jim. Fuck it! I’ll grab a bottle of both.

  After a quick stop at the bottle-o, I came home, finding it empty. No one, not even my dog was there. Changing out of my work clothes, I chucked on some sweats and a t-shirt. Mum’s question had been niggling me, and as much as I tried avoiding it, I couldn’t.

  I had other things to go get and pack up. I had two years’ worth of stuff in that house, and she wasn’t keeping everything. And so, I got in my car again.

  It was probably a stupid idea that I went alone to the house, knowing she was probably there. She worked in insurance and usually finished early. My palms grew sweaty as I pulled down the street I had been living in the past year, and my breathing picked up. What if she had someone else over? She could be doing what I should be doing—fucking someone else.

  Relief flooded me as I pulled into the driveway and noticed her yellow car wasn’t there. Thank god.

  It was only after I pulled my keys out that my brain registered the problem. House keys. I gave them back to her. I have no keys. “Well done, cock suck,” I muttered to myself.

  Shoving my hands onto the wheel with a slam, I gripped it tighter and groaned. Why didn’t I think of this thoroughly first? That’s right, I wasn’t thinking. I was acting on impulse to get this shit over with. Jesus, my day way going great.

  I did what any normal and rational person would do—broke in through the laundry window. It was never closed fully, and the lock didn’t work. The house stunk of perfume as I made my way through the hallway towards the kitchen. I did not miss the sight of expensive wine bottles and empty takeout containers. I should have taken a photo, posted it on Instagram, and tagged it under la
zybitchcantclean, with the hash tag cheating whore.

  Really, I was very tempted on doing so.

  She was on it enough, always posting photos of herself. At least I no longer had to take a photo of her doing a posed but candid-looking picture. Those were the highlights of my life. Not.

  Leaving the kitchen, I went to the office and looked in. At least she hadn’t burnt my things. It shouldn’t take me long to pack up my laptop and files, I thought. I opened the front door and went out to the car, grabbing the boxes to pack the few items I owned here.

  Before long, it was my second trip to the car, and I was almost done.

  A yellow car pulled up, and its music was cut off as Jasmine jumped out of it, making a beeline for me.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I shrugged as I turned around. I didn’t want to look at her, but I expected her to show up. It would have been too good if she didn’t. Nothing was going my way, so why should I expect to not see her today? “Getting my things.”

  “I thought you took what you needed,” she said, her voice raised. She was itching for a fight. I could tell.

  Still, I kept calm and headed back inside. “I thought you wouldn’t go out and fuck someone else. Yet, you did. So, if you don’t mind, stay out of my fucking way while I pack my shit, and get the fuck out of here.”

  “I can help.”

  I laughed humorously, muttering a dry response, “Yeah. Not a chance in hell is that happening.”

  Thankfully, she kept away while I packed my things. I tossed in more files and tools, and finally, I went into the living room. That was where I was expecting a fight. I walked right in front of her, grabbed the remote control from the table, and turned the TV off.

  I looked down at her. She looked the same. There was no sign of any distress on her face. It angered me. Here I was, feeling like a worthless shit while she looked fucking normal. My jaw tensed, and I turned to continue unplugging the TV from the wall socket.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, standing up and walking behind me. Trying to block my way, she pushed herself between the TV and myself. “You’re not taking the TV.”

  “Yes, I am.” I glared, looking her dead in the eyes. I paid for it. I was taking it.

  There was no denying it, she was beautiful. Her blonde hair was pulled from her face, and those light blue eyes I thought I could stare into for the rest of my life were eating at my soul. Her legs went on forever up underneath a black fitted dress. I knew she was probably wearing a lace thong that barely covered her neatly trimmed pussy.

  My cock didn’t stir.

  Our faces were inches apart, her breath blowing against mine, and that whiff of familiar perfume almost became my undoing. I felt all the urges to grab her by the throat and kiss the fuck out of her… to show her who she fucking belonged to. I wanted to slam her against the wall and take her without mercy, to leave her screaming, crying, and begging for forgiveness.

  It wasn’t going to happen. My cock wasn’t reacting to her, and I needed that up.

  It was a sign, the sign I needed to realise just what I was staring at.

  Her blue eyes stared back with a question as if she was trying to read my mind. The more I looked at her, the more those cravings began to fade, and I soon began to see her with the man who had no face or name. Not knowing who she fucked was eating me alive. At least if I knew, I could deal with it. Maybe not, but it would still be better than imagining her with someone she didn’t even know.

  I didn’t feel aroused by her, just disgusted and emotionally broken. She broke my heart. She didn’t deserve a fucking thing from me.

  Swallowing hard, I licked my dry lips and found my words. They came out low, clearly, and slow. “I paid for it. It’s mine. I will be taking the TV, so move away.”

  “Fine. Take the damn TV. I don’t care. Don’t forget that stupid Xbox either.” I had already packed that. She gave up and walked away. But she stopped and looked back towards me, her eyes softening. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  I shrugged, not believing her at all. “Keep telling yourself that, but I think you went out with the intention of screwing someone.” That made the most sense. I narrowed my eyes and thought about it. “You were dressed up and distant. You went out with the sole purpose to fuck someone, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice growing louder as I moved towards her. “Didn’t you, Jasmine?”

  She shook her head, the waterworks coming on.

  “Don’t,” I hissed. I didn’t care about her tears. I came towards her, my fingers digging into my palm. “Don’t lie to me. Admit it… admit what you’ve done.”

  “No.”

  “Liar!” I seethed. I hated liars. Catching the shine from a photo frame on the shelves across the room, I changed direction. I headed towards them, and before I knew what I was doing, I picked them all up. One by one, I was taking each photo of her and me together, still yelling. “What kind of person goes out to fuck someone else when their partner is waiting at home? You’re a vile bitch.” I kept going, grabbing the albums and packets of photos that were yet to be put out.

  “Don’t take those!” She came at me, trying to shove me aside and reach for the frames in my hand. She looked at me, and a sly smirk appeared. “I’ll smash your TV if you take my things.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Yes, I will!” she said, threatening me. I didn’t think she would go through with it, but she did. Her Vouge book was thrown straight into the LCD, and I stood there in shock as my TV now had a great big black mark down the middle.

  She was crazy, and I wanted to say that to her, loud and clear. But what came out, was something I had never told anyone before. “I jerked off to someone else.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and a sour frown formed on her face. “What?”

  “I used to rub my dick and think of a pretty little redhead sucking my cock... and let me tell you, I came fucking harder than I had ever done when we screwed.” I wanted her to get hurt. This was me intentionally wanting to break her the same way she had me. “

  “Who is she?” Her chest rose and fell. She looked sick. “Who the fuck is she?” she yelled.

  “Someone better than you.” To be honest, I had no clue who she was. I think it was just from all the porn I had been watching, an imaginary fantasy.

  She lost her mind. Fists were pounded into the screen until it was well and truly cracked on the inside. I stood there, watching her lash out and scream. “You’re right. I wanted to fuck someone new, someone different!”

  Every blow to the TV was like a stab in the chest. I couldn’t say anything. All time seemed to slow down and stop. I was frozen, rooted in the spot I stood in. My feet wanted to move, but I couldn’t. My heart ached, and it tore as I stood there watching her, listening as she kept on cursing me every name under the sun until the TV came falling from the wall and cracked the glass around the Sony frame.

  Well then. It was her problem now.

  There was nothing left for me to say. She had admitted it, and it felt just as bad as the first time she had come home and told me she cheated.

  I left the house with the photos shoved into a box and put them in the boot of my car. She came out just as I was getting into my car, pointing her finger towards me. “Don’t come back here. You do, and I’ll call the cops! Asshole.”

  I laughed, really laughed. “After what I just witnessed, I’ll gladly keep away. You’re fucking crazy. Don’t worry about me coming back here. I won’t be.”

  Her lips parted, and a frown formed. She must have expected me to still want her, and for a moment, I did. Watching her reflection grow smaller in the mirror as I drove out the driveway, I was honestly relieved to be leaving.

  Relieved, yes. Gutted? Yes, and probably more on point.

  When I got home, I left everything in the car except for the photos and the booze. I needed the alcohol to get through the night. I took them outside and sat down in front of the fire barrel that Dad had made.
Watching the burning heat, I just sat there, swigging away, relishing the burn down my throat each time as I tossed a photo into the hot coals.

  Dad came out. He didn’t say anything as he pulled up a seat and picked up one of the photos, staring down at it. “We burning the lot?” he asked, looking up as he awaited my reply. “There’s no going back if you do this.”

  I grabbed the beam, bringing it to my lips. “Burn the lot. I’d throw her in there too if it weren’t illegal.”

  Just shaking his head, he tossed the photo into the pit of fire, and I watched it melt into the flames. “She really hurt you, didn’t she?” he asked, reaching over and giving my shoulder a squeeze.

  My throat felt as if it was closing up. My heart hadn’t stopped aching since I first found out, and I didn’t bother trying to hide the stinging tears anymore. I didn’t want to cry. I hated that she made me want to. Everything was a mess. I racked my mind trying to think about what I had done to deserve this. Had I hurt someone bad enough to earn this hurt I felt? Was this the payback? Maybe I did. I wasn’t the nicest guy at times, and sure, I’ve broken a few hearts, but I never cheated on anyone. So, why did I deserve this?

  Nothing. I didn’t deserve it. No one deserved to go through this. It was the ultimate betrayal.

  I blinked hard, wiping tears away with the sleeve on my arm. “Yeah, Dad. She broke my heart.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I was still living with my parents.

  In case you were wondering, I hadn’t moved out. I was too intoxicated half the time to get my arse into gear and look up something other than porn. Not that I was rubbing my dick constantly, but a guy has urges, and mine were coming on at three AM when I couldn’t sleep.

  What else was I meant to do? Make hot tea and read Cosmo? Fuck that. I blew and then slept fucking great.

  It had been six weeks.

  A week of that time I spent drunk in the bedroom and angry at the world. Even Colt was sleeping in the living room. He probably didn’t want to get vomited on. Not that I spewed. He was just being cautious. Everyone was. After I burned all those photographs and talked out my feelings like a man would through silence, I went downhill. No one bothered me, which was just how I liked it. I don’t think anyone wanted to come in and get a whiff of the repulsive smell. Not showering and ordering pizza most nights took a toll on the stench.