by A. T Brennan
She might not love him and she might not even want anything beyond a conversation and maybe a lay, but he needed more. He would have to find a way to tell her. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t spend another ten years bouncing back and forth with her. She either wanted something real or she didn’t. He would accept whatever she decided.
It was time to give her an ultimatum. Now all he had to do was figure out how to bring it up, and when.
Chapter 19
Needing to Feel Needed
JENNA didn’t know how she felt as she drove over to Clay’s building. Two years might have passed, but she still remembered where it was.
Seeing him had been a complete shock. She knew he still lived in town, but it wasn’t as though they lived in a tiny little hamlet where there was only one store and one garage. Their town might not be huge, but it was big enough she never seemed to run into anyone she’d known in high school. No one other than him.
A part of her was embarrassed he’d seen her buying wine in the first place. She was an adult, and he’d had no reason to suspect she was planning on drinking most, if not all, of it tonight. But she was ashamed of what she was doing to herself.
She wasn’t eating well. She was smoking on and off again, and she was drinking more than she had in a really long time. Her behavior was self-destructive, and she was ashamed that she couldn’t seem to change it.
The other part of her had been happy to see him. He still looked exactly the same. He was still tall and lean and broad, and she could still see his muscles through the shirt he’d been wearing. His eyes had looked tired and a little dark, but his face was exactly as she remembered. His hair was shorter now, but it suited his face. It was still long enough to run her fingers through. She paused as that thought dawned on her. Why had her mind immediately gone there?
She shook her head and put her blinker on to take a right at the lights. She was getting close. She tried to keep her mind out of the gutter and instead focused on driving and obeying all of the traffic laws. She had no idea what she hoped would come out of this meeting, but it would be nice to talk to him again.
When she’d left his apartment the morning after the wedding she’d been sure he’d washed his hands of her. She’d let herself start to fall for him, and he hadn’t wanted anything more than a night. Was that what this was? Did he want to talk to her so they’d end up in bed together?
She was the loser who couldn’t make it. She’d screwed up every aspect of her life, and at twenty-eight she was living in her parent’s guest bedroom trying to figure out what to do with her life. She’d only been home for a week, but the more she thought about things the less she felt her life was in the city.
Her parents were here, and so was their business. Dan was working with them as they prepared to retire, and he had Ellie and the twins. Everyone was here and connected, and she was the absentee aunt.
She didn’t even have a job anymore. That had always been her reason for not leaving when things had gotten tough. She had a great job with a good company, and she was making a life for herself. When her ex had threatened her, after Patty had hurt her, and even after Tristan’s death, she still had her job to anchor her.
Now the job was gone, and she had no one. She had friends, but her two closest friends were gone. One had died and the other had abandoned her. She wasn’t happy. She knew she wasn’t happy, and she didn’t feel as though she fit in. Home felt right. Sunday dinners with her family felt right. Babysitting the twins or having a coffee date with Ellie at the play place felt right. Sitting in her apartment alone was killing her.
She sighed when she saw his building up ahead. Here Clay was with the great place to live, the job he seemed to love, and a life. She was the loser who couldn’t make it, and he was the one who had.
At that moment she made a snap decision. She would go with whatever happened. It had been a long time since she’d been with anyone, and a really long time since she’d actually enjoyed sex. Her ex hadn’t forced her, but toward the end he hadn’t put any effort into her, and she’d come to dread having sex with him. She’d still done it, but more out of obligation than desire.
She’d always been able to talk to Clay, after that one night at the party of course. He’d always been kind to her, and he’d always been an incredible lover. He might only want sex, and if that was the case, then she was going to go with it.
She wanted him. The moment she’d looked him up and down as he’d been paying at the store her body had tightened, and she’d remembered their last night together. She wanted that again. There was a very good chance her heart was already involved, but she could push it aside and focus on the pleasure. She might be setting herself up for another heartbreak, but she would deal with it later.
As she climbed out of the car she did everything she could to clear her mind. She’d been fooling herself when she’d convinced herself she was over him and she’d moved on. She knew denial was one of the reasons she’d ended up with her ex. She’d been so desperate to have someone want her, to feel needed, she’d latched onto the first man who had paid her attention. She’d put up with his crap because she’d been afraid to be alone.
None of that was Clay’s fault. She was the one who’d made the decision, and she was the one who’d thought it would help. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and she didn’t harbor any ill feelings toward him. It was her fault she’d fallen in love with him. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t love her.
As she came around the side of the building she saw him standing in front of the main doors. At that moment she knew she wanted him. If he made any indication that he was interested, she would be more than willing. She needed one last night with him, again.
When she came up to him, he gave her a smile and turned to open the door. She followed him through the security door and went up to his apartment. She wasn’t nervous, but she did feel a tingle of excitement. She had no idea what he was expecting. She just hoped he wanted her on some level.
He ushered her inside, and she went to sit on his couch as he went to the kitchen to put his beer in the fridge.
“You need to cool those down?” he asked, bending down to look through the pass through.
“No, I got them out of the cooler.” She grinned as she pulled one of the bottles out and put the bag on the floor under the coffee table.
“How about a glass?”
“Probably a good idea.” She laughed. “I was just going to brown bag it, but a glass is a little more sophisticated.”
He laughed as he went into one of the cupboards. “Never realized you were so hardcore.”
“I have my moments.”
He came into the living room with a beer in one hand and a wine glass in the other. He sat next to her on the couch and handed her the glass.
“Warm beer?” she asked as she cracked the seal of her wine and poured out a generous portion.
“I had one left so this one’s cold.” He grinned. “I’m not that hardcore.”
She laughed and put the bottle down on the table and picked up her glass. “So, what’s been going on?”
“We’re going to jump right into it, huh?” He leaned back and took a swig of his beer.
“We are. Unless you want to exchange meaningless chitchat for a bit first.”
“I guess with our history chitchat is kind of pointless.” He sighed. “I had to deal with something recently. It had the potential to have a huge impact on my life, and I still don’t know if it’s over or not.”
“What happened?” she asked as she took a sip of her wine.
“I started seeing this woman. She’s the sister of one of my coworkers—he actually set us up.”
“What happened?”
“She was a little different. At first things were okay, but they got weird, fast.”
“How so?”
“She started talking about getting pregnant. She didn’t want me to wear protection, and I couldn’t just
brush it off. Then she tampered with a condom.”
“Did she…” She couldn’t finish her thought. Did he have a kid on the way?
“No, not as far as I know.” He shook his head. “I ended things right after that. It was after when shit hit the fan.”
“After?”
“She didn’t really take it very well. She followed me around a bit, kept showing up at work and even here. Two months ago she told her brother that I hit her when I ended things.”
Her eyes widened, and she tried to keep her face neutral as she listened. This wasn’t about her right now.
“I didn’t touch her. I broke up with her over the phone, and I never saw her after, except when she would show up. She showed him some picture of her with a bruised cheek and said I did it.”
“Did she report you?” she asked quietly as she took another drink of her wine.
“No, but that was hanging over my head for weeks. She admitted to him she’d made up the story about me hitting her after our breakup, but she never really retracted her statement.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She hinted to her brother that I mistreated her.”
“How long were you with her?”
“A month.”
“Wow. What’s a whole lot of crazy for a month. When did it end?”
“Almost six months ago now.”
“Do you think it’s over?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed and chugged down about a third of his beer. “There’s still a part of me that worries the police are going to show up and arrest me. Every time the phone rings or the door opens at work, I panic.”
“She’s holding you hostage with her lies,” she said gently. “It’s a way to control you after you hurt her.”
“I didn’t hurt her—”
“I’m sorry, that was the wrong word.” She shook her head. “I meant after you ended things she was hurt, so she’s using this as a weapon against you.”
“The worst part is how everyone at work knows, and God knows how many other people. Every time I talk to someone and they’re cold, or brush me off, I wonder if they know. Do they think I’m an abuser? Do they think I’d actually hit a woman?”
“Is this hitting you so hard because of what happened when you were a teenager?” she asked carefully.
“Yeah, I think so.” He drained the rest of his beer and put the empty bottle on the table.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that again.”
“The worst part is I know the statistics. I know how many women are actually hurt. How many are abused and raped, and it boils my blood that anyone has to go through that. So many women suffer and never come forward because of fear, and then there’s the few who call every woman’s story into question with their lies.” He sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. “A false accusation can destroy a life, but there are too few real accusations out there, and these guys just keep preying on women.”
“I had no idea you were so passionate about this,” she said softly.
“I was never supposed to know this, but I heard my grandmother talking to someone about how she was raped. It was before she met my grandfather. She was a teenager, and back then there was nothing she could do about it. If she told her family they would have forced her to marry him so she kept it quiet. Now attitudes are different, but it’s still not right because it keeps happening.”
“I’m so sorry, for everything you’ve gone through. There are good women out there.” She smiled and finished her wine. “Not all of us are psycho liars.”
“I know.” He grinned. “I just have a habit of finding the ones who are.”
“So what now?”
“What do you mean?”
“What are you looking for? Are you happy where you are? Or do you need a change?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I feel like I need a fresh start, but I’ve been in the same place since I was sixteen. It’s kind of scary to think about starting over again.”
“It’s hard, but if you’re not happy where you are, then change can be the best thing.”
“Is that why you moved to the city? To get a fresh start?”
“I thought so.” She sighed. “But now I feel like I need another change.”
“What else is going on?”
She looked at him and took a deep breath. She needed to tell someone everything, and he’d always been there for her.
“The past year and a half has been a shit storm.” She sighed. “It’s like for every step I take forward I get knocked back three. I fight to get my life in order and figure out how to fix things, then something else hits.”
“Like what?”
“Losing my job was the last straw. It came right after a trifecta of shit, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Trifecta, as in three shitty things?”
She nodded. “My mom always said bad things happen in threes. It can be three tiny things or three huge issues, but always three.”
“So what happened?”
“My best friend, or at least the person I considered my best friend, really hurt me. Patty’s had issues with depression and anxiety. I always tried to be there for her, but when I started to need more support she bailed. She sent me a really hurtful message.”
“What did it say?”
“She said I was bringing her down. I was too negative, and she had to cut me out of her life so she could get better. If she’d just left it at that, then I would have understood, but she kept going. She used everything I’d told her against me, and she made me feel as though I was a terrible person for asking for support. She said I was a drama queen, and that I felt I was a lot more special than I am. She said everything in my life was self-inflicted, and it’s all my fault.”
“I’m sorry, Jenna.”
“Everything she said was something I’d already thought myself, and it was really hard to have her turn on me like that.”
“What was going on that you needed the support? Is that another part of the trifecta?”
“Yeah.” She nodded and closed her eyes for a second. “I started dating this guy, almost a year and a half ago now. He was great, at first, but things started changing. I either ignored the signs, or I didn’t see them. I don’t know.”
“What did he do?”
“At first he yelled, a lot. Everything set him off, and he was always angry. I just thought he was stressed. Then everything became my fault. Anything that happened in his life was my fault, and he would take all his frustrations out on me. He called me names, blamed me, screamed at me.”
“And you didn’t leave?” he asked softly.
“No. I made excuses for him.”
“You must have really loved him.”
She snorted. “I actually didn’t. I was just afraid to be alone, and I didn’t think anyone else would want me.”
“Jenna…”
“One night he was lighting into me, and he said something that crossed the line. I snapped and yelled back, and he…”
“He hit you?”
She nodded and looked away. “He punched me in the stomach. It hurt so bad I thought he’d broken a rib. The one thing I remember was how he didn’t try to help me. He just stood over me while I was on the floor, and he smiled. Then he left.”
“Did you end things then?”
“No.” She gripped the leg of her pants and shook her head. “He came back a few hours later and apologized. He said he’d lost his cool but would never get carried away like that again.”
“But he did?”
“He was fine for a few weeks, but one night at dinner I knocked over my wine glass. He lost it and flipped the table over. He punched me in the face so hard he knocked me out. When I came to he was gone, and that’s when I knew he was dangerous. I ended things, but he wouldn’t let it go.”
“Did he stalk you?”
She nodded. “For months he would show up at work,
my building, even when I was out with friends. He would send me messages telling me he was watching me. That he would kill me if he ever saw me with another man.”
“Did he ever come after you again?”
“Not really. He came to my door, screaming and threatening me, and I called the cops. I finally got a restraining order against him, but there’s still a part of me that worries about it. What’s a piece of paper going to do if he decides he wants to hurt me?”
He reached out and put his hand over hers, stopping her from rubbing her pant leg anymore. She flipped her hand over and gripped his tightly.
“What was the third thing?” he asked softly.
“My friend died.” She blinked back her tears.
“Oh Jenna. I’m so sorry.”
“He died waiting for a heart transplant.” She shook her head and fought to keep her eyes clear as the tears started to well up. “We’d been friends for six years. He was such a great guy, so bright and caring and kind. He was my rock.” A sob escaped her lips, and she put her hand over her mouth as she shook her head.
“Jenna?”
“He was only thirty. He was two years older than me, and he should have been starting his life, and now he’s dead…” She dissolved into tears, and Clay just slid closer to her on the couch and pulled her against his body in a strong hug.
Her head was nestled against his strong chest, and he stroked her hair comfortingly as he held her. He let her cry. He didn’t try to shush her or tell her everything was going to be all right. It took a long time for her tears to subside, and when they did she actually felt better.
Every time she’d cried for Tristan, she’d been alone and had never felt any better. Now that she was in Clay’s arms she felt protected and safe, and more at peace with everything.
Even though she’d stopped crying he didn’t move to let go of her. He just pulled her closer and leaned back so she was settled against him comfortably.
“It looks like we’re both looking for something.” He kissed the top of her head and sighed against her.