by Rylee Swann
And, he’s a good adult male influence. Isaac could use a father figure in his life. Again, I’m surprised by my thoughts. Is it possible that great sex alone is not changing my opinion of Jayson? Could he be winning me over because he has actually, finally, grown up? Become an honest-to-god adult man? And thus, killed off his demons? If this is all true, then why the hell does it scare me so much?
“Yeah,” Isaac mutters. Offering a half shrug, he skulks out the door.
Leaving me with a great deal to mull over.
Mac nudges my hand, reminding me that I need to walk him. The prospect of him leaving poop bombs in my apartment is not appealing in the slightest. I’m thankful he hasn’t already, that I know of, and I hope training him won’t be too difficult. I’ll have to ask Jayson about it. He grew up with dogs.
And, just like that, Jayson is well-ensconced in my life again.
Part of me wants to sing while another part checks for a dark cloud hanging over my head. Or, perhaps, it’s the sword of Damocles. I wish I knew.
As soon as Isaac is gone from view, I grab the leash we purchased at the vet’s office and hook it onto the collar also purchased at the same time. That vet must love us. We dropped a pretty penny into her practice, all thanks to Mac.
The dog spends a lot of time sniffing everything in sight rather than doing what I brought him outside for. When he finally does his business, I praise him and pick it up with a poop bag. Tossing the bag into the dumpster for my building, I head straight to Gemma’s apartment. I’m worried for her with the way Isaac is behaving, and want to make sure she’s alright.
Holding on to Mac’s leash with one hand, I rap on her door with the other. “Gemma, it’s me. Let me in, hun.”
A moment or two later the door opens, Gemma standing in the threshold, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot.
“I’m losing him. He won’t talk to me.” She sniffles and bows her head in defeat.
“Oh, no. Come here.” I hold out my arms and she steps into my embrace. “It’ll be okay.” I hug her and smooth back unruly hair standing up at odd angles. “Do you mind if Mac comes in?”
She shakes her head and steps back, offering a half smile. “So this is the instigator of mind-blowing sex, huh?”
I gasp in embarrassment as I lead Mac into Gemma’s apartment. I told her what happened in the lean-to but I still blush regardless. The living room looks like a tornado hit it but I don’t mention the mess. Moving aside a pile of what must be a month’s worth of mail, I sit on the couch. Mac dutifully follows, his nose going a million miles a minute as he takes in the onslaught of new smells.
“So, I take it Isaac didn’t handle being grounded well.” I’m not here to talk about Jayson, as much as I want to, I admit to myself reluctantly. “Is he here?”
“No, to both questions. Your Jayson picked him up for a session a few minutes ago.” She takes a seat amid crystals and essential oils on the comfortable old recliner.
My Jayson. What?
“Oh.” I’m caught off guard by the fact that Jayson was here so recently.
She chuckles half-heartedly. “You’re wishing you hadn’t missed him, aren’t you?”
“No,” I say too quickly and very unconvincingly. Sometimes, I hate the way she can read me like a favorite book. “I came here to see if you were okay, not talk about him. Isaac paid me a visit just before I took Mac for a walk.”
“Oh, that’s where he went.” She sighs and picks up a small polished amethyst, rolling it around in her hands. “I told him not to leave and he left anyway. I’m sorry. Was he a punk to you too?”
“Let’s just say he wasn’t pleased with me. I’d promised him at the police station that I wouldn’t tell you about his drug use but then I thought better of it. He doesn’t understand that I couldn’t keep it from you. He said he couldn’t trust me.” I lean forward and pat Mac on the head. He lets out a heavy sigh, like he’s holding the world on his doggy shoulders. Or maybe it’s just contentment. Cats, I understand. I’m not a dog whisperer yet. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ve been better. He called me a hypocrite.”
“Because you smoke pot?”
“Yeah.” She leans back in the chair and rests her head against the cushion. “He was trying to push my buttons. But I know I’m doing the right thing. Handling this the right way. I took time to think through what Jayson said and why he made the suggestions he did. They’ve started to make sense to me, as much as I’d rather not admit to it. I gave my boy too much freedom and look where it’s gotten me.” Tears form in her eyes.
It hurts my heart to see my friend like this. I wish I had more than simple words. “I told Isaac to talk to Jayson about this. That he’d be surprised by the insights he hadn’t thought of.”
Gemma’s brows rise almost comically. “That was a quick trip to accepting Jayson back into your life.”
“That’s not it at all,” I insist. “He graduated with a degree in this. He knows how to handle Isaac, is all I’m saying.” I’m on the defensive, and sigh inwardly.
“Have you forgiven him yet?”
“Stop it. I’m here to comfort you. Not to figure out my current mess of a life.” Mac whines and jumps up onto the couch beside me. Papers go flying in all directions. Unperturbed, he settles down with his head in my lap. “Crap, sorry about that.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “Maybe the comfort I want is to discuss your ‘mess of a life.’”
“Serious?” She nods, rolling the amethyst like worry beads. Relenting, I answer her question. “No, I haven’t.”
“Yet you’re spending time with him. Dating.” She peers at me with a warm expression, which lulls me so much that I’m astonished by what she says next. “Are you using him for sex?”
“No! Oh, god, I can’t believe you said that.”
She goes on, unperturbed. “Then what is it? Are you trying to forgive him?”
Now it’s my turn for tears to threaten. “How the hell do you forgive someone for destroying you? For breaking your heart? For changing your fundamental personality? I was a kinder, more open and trusting person before him.” I throw my hands up in exasperation.
Mac raises his head and whines at me, and I go back to petting him like he’s my therapy dog. This is a difficult conversation to say the least. But I need to talk it through, I suppose. It’s important for me to understand what I’m doing with Jayson. Where my head and my heart lie.
Gemma nods. “He was sick with alcohol.”
“A poor excuse!” I say, lashing out. She doesn’t flinch. “A person with the flu knows what will most likely happen if they sneeze on someone.”
“Hmm, interesting analogy.” She pauses, leans forward and picks up a second gemstone. Now the clink of her rubbing them in her hands is almost musical. “You just told me that Isaac said he can’t trust you, right?” I nod, and she continues. “Yet, you know that’s not true. He can, in fact, trust you, right?”
“Yes, of course.” I try to keep the impatience from my voice. “Where are you going with this?”
“Maybe it’s the same for Jayson. You think you can’t trust him but in reality—”
“No! I—”
“Hold on. Let me finish.” Frowning, I settle down as she continues to clink the stones together. “I know that ten years ago you trusted him implicitly, and doing so was a mistake. I’m just saying that you might consider who he is today. He’s not that man anymore.”
I frantically shake my head.
Gemma motions for me to have my say that I clearly so desperately need.
“You don’t understand.” A big, fat tear plops onto Mac’s head as I pet him. “This has always been the pattern. He hurts me, we break up. He crawls back. He’s different, he says. He’ll never again do what he did, he promises. And, I take him back. I put my trust and faith in him because I’m not strong enough to do anything else, and it’s good for a while. So damned good, until it isn’t again. And we break up. It’s always been this p
attern.”
Tired and miserable, I let the tears loose and they flow down my cheeks like a river.
“I’m so sorry,” Gemma says. “Spider webs are intricate and insidious…”
My cell phone buzzes. Pulling it out of my pocket, the incoming text makes me laugh without humor.
Gemma raises an inquiring brow.
“Jayson just invited me to dinner tomorrow night at a friend’s house.”
“I see. Are you going to go?”
I don’t hesitate. My answer is inevitable. Jayson will pull me in until I drown, or until I sever—once and for all—the cord that binds us. “Yes.”
“Good. Follow the pattern and see where it leads this time. Whichever way it goes, I’ll be here for you.”
When I glance up from my phone, she’s shining in a benevolent light. It’s just my glassy gaze from crying but it’s beautiful, nonetheless. “Thank you.”
12
Jayson
Back when I was drinking, there were days I didn’t bother to put on pants. I often had hangovers too brutal to make the effort. I made up a holiday called “No Pants Day” and would tell Dee time after time that the holiday had rolled around again. Dee would laugh, but I could see in her eyes she’d rather I got dressed, did something, anything productive. I never did.
That’s why I now find myself standing in front of the small pile of clothes that I own in my tiny studio in a small town that is slowly starting to feel like home, frowning in dismay. I want to look my best for our dinner date. Pants and all.
“At least they’re clean,” I say to the empty room, grunting out a self-deprecating laugh.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I grab a pair of dark-wash blue jeans and a black collared shirt. This will have to do. I picked up a cheap full-length mirror at the dollar store the other day, and after donning the clothing, check the look. I want to be visually appealing to Dee. Everything I do is for her. She deserves the effort, especially after all the selfish shit I put her through. I was a poor excuse for a boyfriend, and I have a boatload of amends to make.
Cursing, I realize I forgot to shave. My five o’clock shadow has already taken up residence on my face, but there’s no time for that now. I refuse to be late in picking Dee up. With a nod to my attire and a grimace for my carelessness, I grab my keys and dash.
She answers the door on the first knock. A mass of dark wavy curls surround her face and cascade down her back. She’s stunning and takes my breath away, but I don’t forget to compliment her.
“You look fantastic.” My tone is heartfelt, and she graces me with a sweet smile.
“Thank you.” She opens the door wider and a black blur takes shape in the shadowy darkness of her living room. “Don’t forget to say hello to our dog.”
The dog she christened Mac whines a toothy greeting and I hold out my hand for him to sniff. After a quick whiff, he covers it in slobbery goodness. Laughing, I scratch him behind the ears.
“Our dog?” While scratching, I unobtrusively wipe the slobber back onto his coat.
“Yes,” she says in a firm tone. “And don’t you dare try to shirk your responsibilities. When you finally move from that tiny studio apartment, as you describe it, you can take Mac off my hands every other weekend or so.” I laugh like that’s not going to happen, and she calls me on it. “Oh, don’t you think you’re getting out of co-ownership. In fact, the next case of dogfood is on you.”
Her eyes are alight with playfulness, but I know she’s serious. I love dogs, however, taking care of myself is a full-time job. Dogfood though, I can handle.
“Done. Call me when Mac needs more Alpo or that Wilderness stuff that costs a fortune.” I give him one more pat on the head. “I still think you should have called him Monkey.”
She laughs, grabs her shoulder bag and locks up behind us. “And that’s why you weren’t in charge of naming him.”
We drive the short distance to the Kenney residence while keeping up the enjoyable banter. Halfway there, Dee startles me by putting her hand on my cheek. I do my best to maintain an outwardly calm appearance while my heart rate quickens.
“You didn’t shave.” She brushes her knuckles across my stubble. “But you look nice otherwise.”
In another moment, we get stuck at a red light. Or, rather, I slowed the car to a crawl in the hope that the green light was already stale. “Otherwise, eh?” Before she can reply, I bend my head to hers and capture her lips with mine.
She palms my cheek and opens her mouth to my insistent tongue. She tastes minty, freshly brushed. Deepening the kiss, I inhale the sweet scent of her shampoo. It’s gardenia, her favorite flower. Her hand makes the quick journey from my cheek to the back of my neck, her fingers curing in my hair. My cock is awake now and standing for the Pledge of Allegiance or whatever is done here in the states.
With my left hand, I reach out and cup her full breast. Her pert nipple pokes into my palm and sends more blood to an already engorged cock. I growl into her mouth and her hand tightens in my hair. I want her so bad, and briefly wonder if Chris would forgive me for standing his wife and him up tonight. But that’s not the way to make my best effort at winning Dee back. With supreme effort and much reluctance, I break off our kiss and glance to the light, which is once again green.
Before letting my foot up from the brake, I lean toward her again and speak in her ear. “You didn’t seem to mind the stubble.”
She gasps, then clears her throat. “You’re an evil man, Jayson Fox,” she says half under her breath.
Chuckling, I step on the gas pedal and we soon arrive at our destination without further incident.
Chris and Sally Kenney live in a modest yet well-kept farmhouse. The lawn in front is meticulously cared for and the trees are tall and majestic. I imagine the backyard is the same. As I park in front of their house, an orange cat slinks by, followed by a yapping chihuahua. The cat appears unperturbed and I glance at Dee to point them out but she’s already watching with a smile on her face.
I get out of the car and jog around to her door so I can open it before she does. These are the types of gestures I always wanted to do for Dee but was held back by fear and stupidity. I’m grateful to have the chance to do them now. Holding out my hand, I help her out to her silent, wide-eyed wonderment.
“Come on. They’re expecting us.” I’m determined not to mention any of my many changes and just let them unfold naturally. It would be stupid of me to say anything that might remind her of bad times.
She nods with a smile and we travel up the walk hand in hand.
At the door and into the foyer, introductions all around are made. This is my first meeting with Sally and she beams up at me as we shake hands. She’s a plump ball of energy and I take a liking to her right away. Chris claps me on the back while Sally bustles Dee off to the kitchen.
“Glad you could make it, Fox,” Chris says. “I didn’t realize your date would be related to the Napoli kid. How’s that going, by the way?”
I follow him into the living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows give an impressive and expansive view of the mountains. He takes a seat in a big, plush black Barcalounger. This is clearly his seat. And, well deserved after the stressful hours he puts in as a servant to the community. I take a seat on the matching couch.
“It’s going good. I’m still optimistic.” I debate telling him more about Dee, at least correcting him about her being related to Isaac, but decide to let Dee take the lead on that. If she mentions our history then I’ll know the topic is not taboo. “You have a nice place here, Chris. That view is amazing.”
His gaze goes to the window as if to confirm that the view is still there. “Yeah, yeah. I’m quite fond of it myself. You still in that studio you complain about?”
I laugh and make a mental note to stop complaining about it. “I am. You don’t happen to have a cottage on the property I could rent?” I’m more than half joking but if he says yes, I might just jump on it.
“Actually, I do
but the seventeen-year-old is currently occupying it. The other two older boys are finishing up their sophomore and junior years in college.” He smiles wistfully. “They’ll be home soon and the youngest starts next fall. Then begins empty-nest syndrome. Hey! I could kick Kent out and move you in. We could turn the place into a man cave.”
He laughs and I know he’s joking. I laugh with him, enjoying the repartee. “I doubt Sally or your son would appreciate that much.”
As if on cue, Sally bustles into the room, wiping her hands on an apron around her waist. “What wouldn’t I appreciate, hmm?”
“Oh, nothing, sweetheart,” Chris says and winks. “We’re just being boys. Silly ones at that.”
Sally smiles indulgently and a pang of envy goes through me. They’re very much in love and, despite whatever problems they might have that I have no business knowing about, they seem to be living a perfect little life.
Turning her gaze to me, Sally shakes her head. “Don’t you go letting Christopher tell too many stories. Most of ‘em aren’t true.” It’s her turn to wink and she does to Chris’ loud guffaws. “I just popped in to see what you menfolk want to drink. Dinner’ll be on the table in a little while more, I imagine.”
“I’ll take a cold brewski, sweetheart,” Chris says and turns to me. “I put a case in the fridge this morning.”
“Thanks, but I’ll just have a Coke or whatever soft drink you have on hand.” It’s second nature for me now to refuse an offer of alcohol. It’s the potential explanation that can sometimes become awkward.
“Are you sure, Jayson?” Sally asks. “I’ve already got your lovely lady started on her first glass of wine. She’s a dear but I better rescue her soon from keeping an eye on things in there.”