His Surrender

by Jaclyn Osborn

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Instantly, he became guarded and his smile fell a little. “Sure.”

  “I know we aren’t together… like, romantically…” Jesus, I sounded like an idiot. “And that’s fine. I just… I guess I wanted to know… are we exclusive at least?” My face burned with embarrassment. The question had eaten at me for a while, and I couldn’t hold it at bay any longer.

  “Are you asking if I’ve fucked anyone else recently?”

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t even look at him. Because what if he said that he had? As foolish at it was, I’d probably get upset and have to leave the room.

  Jay grabbed my chin and made me look at him. The center of his forehead wrinkled as he frowned. “I told you I didn’t want anyone but you, and I meant it. I haven’t fucked another guy since January. And believe me, darlin’, I used to fuck fifteen to twenty people a month.”

  “Are you serious?” He was an even bigger playboy than I’d thought.

  “Yes. But that’s not who I am right now,” he said, his tone softer. His firm grip on my face lightened before his thumb circled my lips. “Ty tak mnoga znachish dlya menya.”

  Russian was certainly underrated in terms of sexiness. Everyone always swooned over French or Italian… but none of those people had ever heard Jay speak Russian to them. He could’ve been insulting me, and my stomach would still do flips.

  “What does that mean?”

  Jay kissed the tip of my nose and rested his head on the pillow, saying nothing.

  “Ah, come on.” I moved aside his bangs and let my hand linger on his temple. “You can’t do that to me.”

  “Look it up,” he said.

  “I can’t remember it, and I damn sure couldn’t spell it if I did.”

  “Not my problem.” Jay shrugged and closed his eyes. “Good night, Remi.”

  “Who said you could sleep over?”

  His lips twitched with a smile.

  “What about Sput?”

  “I dropped him off at Ivan’s before coming to the bar,” Jay responded, opening his eyes. “I figured I’d be too busy to go home.”

  “That was mighty presumptuous of you to assume you’d be staying with me.”

  “With you?” Jay scrunched his face up, still managing to look drop-dead gorgeous while doing it. “No. You see, I had my eyes on someone else. Things didn’t pan out with them, so I went with plan B.”

  “Bastard.” I shoved his chest, and he laughed. God, I loved the sound. “I have another question.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Nothing bad.” I rested my head on his shoulder, tracing his collarbone with the tip of my finger. “I’m curious why you chose Blond Bastard as your username on that hookup app.”

  “Emery’s son, Ryan, calls me that. I thought it was funny.”

  “Did you know I have you in my phone as Beautiful Bastard?”

  “I didn’t.” Jay’s chest rumbled with another laugh. “You’re in mine as Piano Man.”

  “Really?”

  “No. But that’s your name right here.” He drew an x over his heart.

  I laughed and let my eyes fall shut. Jay’s arm was around me, and he pressed his face into my hair. I had never felt safer than I did right then.

  I woke the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon sizzling. I glanced at the clock, seeing it was eight o’clock. There was a slight chill in the air, so I wrapped the sheet around my shoulders and padded down the hall to the kitchen where Jay stood in front of the stove cooking in a cast-iron skillet.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Morning. Need help?”

  “Nah, I got this.” He flipped the bacon and let the other side start cooking. “Coffee’s done, though, if you want to pour a cup. I hope it’s okay I helped myself to your kitchen.”

  “It’s more than okay.” I kissed his nape on my way to the cabinet for a mug. I added some milk to the cup before pouring the coffee over it. It practically stirred itself so I didn’t have to. Laziness to the extreme. “Someone’s cooking me breakfast. I’m not complaining.”

  “I like to cook,” Jay said, putting the strips of bacon on a plate over a paper towel to help drain some of the grease. “I’d like to make more time for it. Nothing beats my mom’s cooking, though. She makes sirniki, which are Russian-style pancakes with jam served on top. It’s the second-best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

  “What’s the first?” I asked, taking a drink of coffee.

  “Your dick.”

  And out went the coffee as I choked on a laugh. Jay smirked like the devil himself and handed me a paper towel. I wiped my mouth and the splatters that had landed on the floor.

  “Asshole,” I muttered, cleaning up the mess. “You did that on purpose.”

  “I’d say I’m sorry, but it’s too cute seein’ you all flustered.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, standing back up to throw the paper towel in the trash. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

  Fuck.

  I froze as the words slipped out. I was too afraid to look at Jay. Too mortified to even breathe. It didn’t help that he was quiet too. When I finally looked at him, he was staring at the stove with an unreadable look in his eyes.

  “Breakfast is ready,” he said, divvying out bacon and scrambled eggs onto two plates. His voice was void of any emotion. “We should eat before it gets cold.”

  Still too freaked-out to speak—since clearly, stupid shit came out of my mouth when I did—I nodded and sat down at the small round kitchen table. It hadn’t even been two months yet. Saying I love you so soon, especially to someone like Jay who didn’t do relationships, was a good way to screw everything up.

  I forced myself to say something because the awkward silence was killing me. “Thanks for cooking.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  More silence.

  If only I could go back in time five minutes. I’d make sure to keep my damn mouth shut. The words had been said in a joking scenario… but I felt the weight of them in my heart. I had meant it. I did love Jay.

  I fall in love too easily. Just like the song.

  Jay seemed to withdraw more and more as we ate. He chewed his food slowly and very rarely met my gaze when I talked—I was grasping at straws to find things to even talk about. He seemed so… indifferent.

  “I need to go in to work for a while,” he said, after helping me clean up the kitchen.

  “Okay.”

  Without another word, he headed down the hall and slipped inside my bedroom to grab his clothes. He returned a minute later, zipping his pants and smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt.

  “You can shower here if you want,” I suggested, not ready for him to leave. Especially when we were in such a weird place emotionally.

  “I’ll shower at home before I go to the office.” Jay stepped toward the door, and with each one he took, I felt my heart get heavier and heavier. He stopped, hand resting on the handle. “Have a good day. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I tried to draw reassurance from his statement. He intended to still talk to me, so hopefully we couldn’t be too bad off. Maybe he just needed some time to think things over.

  It hurt that he didn’t even kiss me goodbye, though.

  ***

  Two and a half weeks passed, and during that time, Jay had been extremely busy with the trial but had still found time to come over several times and nearly break my damn bed by how hard he’d banged me. Not that I’d minded.

  However, I felt him withdrawing even more. Ever since I said those stupid three words, everything had changed. I wasn’t sure if it was due to stress from work or if he was second-guessing things between us, but he was like a different person. It worried me. Because I was too involved with him now.

  Having him cast me aside would be devastating.

  The late-night conversations had lessened, and when I did see him, it was for sex and then he’d leave. We hadn’t spent the night together
again either. The intimacy I craved was nowhere to be found, with the exception of the occasional kiss when he was buried deep in my ass. It was like we were going backward.

  He’d spent the previous weekend with his brother for Ivan’s birthday, and he hadn’t texted or called me once. I had sent a text asking if he ever found a good birthday gift, and it was marked as read, but I never got a reply.

  I sat at school that following Wednesday, trying not to overthink it. It would only stress me out. So, I forced myself to think of positive things. Like my students.

  They were progressing in their music and had the Disney melody down very well. Foster’s confidence was growing. When he practiced his solo in front of the class, he still shook a little with nerves, but after taking a few deep breaths, he relaxed and actually seemed to have fun while playing in front of a small audience.

  The spring concert was in mid-April, so we still had about a month left to practice.

  “Any fun plans for spring break?” Dillon asked me that afternoon before class started. It was the last week before the break, and the students seemed more energetic and antsy for the next two days to pass so they could have a week out of school.

  “Nope,” I answered, positioning the music stand in front of the chairs. “What about you?”

  “We’re gonna go to Colorado to visit some family,” he said, before walking toward the back room to get his tuba. He sat down in his assigned seat, resting the instrument between his legs. “You should do something, Mr. Barnett. Life is best when improvised. Like the quote you wrote on the board.” He pointed to it. “Be wild and go swim with sharks or something.”

  I grinned. “That’d for sure be memorable.”

  “My dad and I are gonna go camping,” Foster said, sliding off his backpack before sitting.

  “Where at?” Dillon asked.

  “A place called Green Leaf State Park,” Foster answered with a smile. “We used to camp a lot when I was younger, but we haven’t in a while. I’m excited.”

  As they continued talking, I mulled over Dillon’s words. No, I wouldn’t be swimming with sharks… but why shouldn’t I do something for spring break? At the rate things were going with Jay, I doubted I’d see him much. And if I did, it would just be for a quick fuck, and then he’d leave again.

  When I got home that afternoon, I preheated the oven and set out a bag of frozen chicken strips. Unlike Jay, I hated cooking. Heating things up was about the most I did. Once sticking the pan into the oven, I sat at my kitchen table and opened up my laptop to browse possible vacation spots.

  Then the answer hit me.

  New Orleans.

  It had always been a dream of mine to go there. I wanted to walk through Jackson Square and hear the passion of the street musicians as they played. I wanted to experience the culture. The atmosphere. The magic. The Big Easy was the place to be.

  Over the years, I’d saved up a small sum of money—not a whole lot, but enough to spend at least a few days in New Orleans at a nice hotel and do some sightseeing. I very rarely did anything extravagant for myself, and I always felt guilty when I did.

  I don’t know if I should.

  The oven beeped, and I set the pan on top of the stove. I then snatched my phone off the counter as it rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, you.”

  Jay’s voice never failed to send my heart racing.

  “Hey,” I responded, piling chicken strips onto a plate.

  “Can I come over tonight?” Jay asked.

  Normally, I would’ve said yes with no hesitation. But my feelings were hurt. Jay had completely shut down on me, treating me as nothing but a hole for him to stick his cock in.

  “Depends.” I grabbed the ketchup from the fridge and carried my plate to the table.

  “On what?”

  “Depends if you’re going to come over, fuck me, and leave. That’s getting really old, Jay.” I sat down and tore off the end of a strip so it could cool. They were still sizzling.

  “I thought you liked when I fucked you.”

  “I do. But I also like talking to you. Being around you for more than just a quick bang.”

  He was quiet.

  “Do you know this is about the longest conversation we’ve had in a week?” I asked, my frustration growing. “What the hell is going on?”

  “You’re upset,” he stated in a quiet voice.

  “Gee, ya think? What gave it away?”

  “Look, you don’t have to be a smart-ass,” he said. “If you don’t want me coming over, just say so.”

  “Fine. I don’t want you coming over. Happy?”

  God, it was the furthest thing from the truth. I wanted to see him, to be in his arms. But at what price? Each time he screwed me and left right after, another piece of my heart chipped away.

  “Noted,” he said in an emotionless tone.

  My eyes stung, and I pushed my plate away. I’d lost my appetite. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Did I do something wrong?”

  “You’re the one being rude right now, not me.”

  “It’s because of what I said that morning, isn’t it?” My voice cracked on the last word. “That’s when you started pulling away from me.”

  “What do you mean by pulling away?” Finally, there was emotion in Jay’s voice. Frustration. “I’ve seen you a lot lately.”

  “Correction. You’ve fucked me. There’s a difference, Jay. When I text you, you don’t respond. When I try to talk to you or cuddle after sex, you seem like you can’t get away from me fast enough. Do you not understand how that makes me feel?”

  I had felt Jay growing closer to me, more than a hookup and definitely more than a friend. I’d felt a spark between us. Chemistry, both in and out of the bedroom. Then he had blocked me out again.

  “I told you I’d be busy with work, and you seemed to understand that,” he said. “Why are you being so goddamn clingy? It’s unattractive.”

  “Wow. So I’m clingy for wanting to see you?” My scalp prickled as both shock and anger went through me. “I know I’ve called you an asshole in the past, but this is the first time I’ve actually meant it. You’re an asshole, Jay Foley.”

  “Are you done?”

  “No,” I snapped. “Go fuck yourself. There. Now I’m done.”

  “Good to know.”

  He hung up on me.

  The tears I’d held back finally fell. I wasn’t sad. I was angry. Sadness would probably hit me later that night while I was lying in bed alone, but for the moment, I felt nothing but resentment and bitterness toward Jay.

  My gaze landed on my laptop. The New Orleans travel page was still pulled up.

  Be spontaneous, I told myself.

  Getting out of town and having some distance between me and a certain blond would be nice. Because my heart couldn’t handle it anymore. I needed time away from everything.

  So, I went for it. I made a hotel reservation and plugged the address into my GPS to save it for later. I’d be leaving Saturday morning.

  Chapter 17

  Jay

  With a glass of bourbon in one hand and a lit cigar in the other, I sat on my back patio that evening feeling sorry for myself. Which was pathetic because it was my own fault. I selected some indie playlist on my Spotify, and then I drank and drank some more. It didn’t help that nine out of ten songs were about failed relationships and broken hearts.

  Relationships.

  Remi and I hadn’t been in one, not technically. We had regularly seen each other, gone out a few times, and had amazing sex. But he hadn’t been my boyfriend or anything close to it… or, at least that’s what I told myself.

  “You’re an asshole, Jay Foley.”

  The irritation in his voice as he’d said the words had been like a punch to gut. And instead of owning up to my mistake, I had let his anger fuel mine.

  So many years ago, I had felt like I was burning from the inside out. I’d denied my sexuality and stayed in the dark wit
h only the flames of my internal self-hatred to guide my way. Andrew had been burning too, and together we’d drenched each other in lighter fluid and dropped a lit match, making the flames grow higher, consuming us both. It’d been a dark time in my life, one that had turned me into the man I was today.

  I still felt like I was on fire some days… destroying everything in my path. Because it’s what I did. I consumed everything around me and left disaster in my wake. A lethal poisonous apple that would only cause pain. However, unlike the fairy tale, it wouldn’t end with a prince riding in on his white steed to save the day. It’d end with tears and hate-fueled words said from a place of grief.

  After taking a puff of my cigar, I rested it on the ashtray and scrolled through my phone, stopping when I found Remi’s name in my contacts. I wanted to apologize for being a dick, but I couldn’t bring myself to message him.

  He loved me.

  He wasn’t the first man to say it to me. It was why I had started making things clear up front when I slept with a guy, telling them I wasn’t interested in more. Emotions ruined everything. But then Remi had come along and made me want more… he’d made me crave romance. Love. Two things I’d sworn off the day Andrew ripped my heart out of my chest.

  When Remi had let those three words slip, it had felt like a bus slamming into me, a collision of fear, panic… and hope. Hope was the worst. Because when it faded and knocked you on your ass, it was too damn hard to get back up again.

  So, what had I done? Emotionally checked out of the situation. Withdrawing from him was easier than dealing with the reasons I was afraid of letting him close to my heart.

  The whiskey traveled through my body, numbing me in some places and leaving a dull ache in others. The pain in my chest remained. I needed more numbing… so I drank even more. Four glasses later, my head was even more of a mess.

  Emery and I weren’t in a good place in our friendship. The murder trial had driven a wedge between us. However, I needed my friend right then. And I was just drunk enough to put my pride aside and call him.

  “What is it, Foley?” Emery answered on the fourth ring. “If you’re calling to bitch me out about court yesterday, you can—”