by Molly Mirren
“You've been crying,” he said, outlining what were probably leftover tear streaks on her cheek with his fingertips. “Christ, Erin, I'm so sorry.” His hand moved to the nape of her neck, and he pressed his forehead against hers.
Erin went stiff, not sure what to think. She'd been so sure he was going to break up with her, but his actions didn't reflect that. Why would he be kissing her? “What—what exactly are you sorry for?”
He reared back to look at her, his hand still on her nape, his forehead wrinkled in that soulful way he had. “For everything.”
“You mean for blowing me off?”
“For starters, yes. I'm sorry for the last few days, for not talking to you. I was a jerk. I'm sorry for not understanding.”
That hope she'd felt earlier started to bloom in earnest. “Are you saying—are you saying you still want to be with me?”
“Yes. The thought of losing you—” He had to stop, a muscle ticking in his jaw and that brightness in his eyes flaring again. He pulled her into a desperate, crushing hug. “Don't ever leave me,” he rasped.
What the fuck?
Erin frowned as she hugged him back, her arms much looser than his were around her, her chin resting on his shoulder. This wasn't what she'd expected at all. She was glad Jay was talking to her now, but this sudden desperation of his was freaking her out. What had gotten into him? Despite her confusion, the clean, masculine scent of his shampoo filled her nostrils, making her skin tingle with awareness of him. Her thoughts might be muddled, but her physical senses were operating just fine.
Reluctantly, she pulled away and rested her hands on his upper arms, feeling hard biceps just under the fabric of his shirt. “Why would I leave you? You wouldn't talk to me, remember?”
“You didn't deserve that.” He swallowed. “I haven't been honest with you, Erin. There's something I need to tell you.”
She got a sudden prickle on the back of her neck and a knot of trepidation in her stomach. “Okay,” she said cautiously.
Jay sat back to where he could sit comfortably without having to brace himself and gently removed her hands from his arms, then laced her fingers with his. Erin relished the roughness of the calluses on his hands and the warmth of his skin, and that instant of trepidation she'd felt was gone—until he looked her in the eye.
“I'm . . . ” He trailed off and closed his eyes, grimacing. Then he looked at her and began again. “The car wreck. It wasn't an accident, was it?” He'd said it like a statement, not a question.
She sat there in silence, her brain in denial and refusing to register all the implications of what he'd said, even as all the blood seemed to be draining from her body. The universe was kicking her while she was down after all.
He gave her hands a squeeze. “I never realized until now how hard what I said that day at Luis's hit you.” He shook his head. “The thought that something I said drove you to . . . Jesus. I'm so sorry, Erin.”
She couldn't move. Her body felt like cement, and she was utterly numb. Maybe if she didn't move, time would stand still and she wouldn't have to deal with what she knew was coming next. The tension in the room rose to an unbearable level.
Finally, staring at her hands intertwined with his as if they belonged to another couple, she cleared her throat and said, “How—how do you know this?”
There was a guilty pause and then, “I think you know.”
A deluge of devastation, fury, overwhelming embarrassment, and a heart-wrenching sense of betrayal threatened to swamp her, but she held them all at bay. It was too painful to deal with and made her chest feel so tight she couldn't breathe. She fought to maintain the numbness, locking everything away in what was left of her heart.
In a voice that sounded far away to her own ears, she said, “You're Panhead.”
Chapter 25
Jay was alarmed at how pale Erin was, and he tensed, afraid she was close to passing out. He didn't think what she'd said was a question, but when she lifted her eyes to his in inquiry, he felt compelled to answer. “Yes,” he choked out. “I'm Panhead.”
Erin just stared at him, still so pale, her face disturbingly blank.
“I'm sorry,” he said again. He would say it a billion times over if it would do any good, but she showed no reaction.
In a flat tone, she said, “You've been lying to me for months.”
“Yes.”
“You know . . . everything.”
She was referring to the suicide attempt, and a giant fist clutched his heart. He couldn't stand the thought of her almost dying, especially because of something he’d said. The fact that she'd been hurt in the accident because of him was bad enough. “Erin—”
“I let you read my work,” she said, cutting him off.
Jay leaned toward her, ignoring the prick of back pain the movement caused, and took hold of her shoulders to steady himself and to reestablish contact with her. “Listen to me. You're a talented writer, and I'm glad you let me read it. It was a privilege.”
She looked at him, so calm it was eerie. Jay kept waiting for the anger to come, for her to throw something or rage at him. He wished she would. Anything would be better than this clinical indifference. It was like she'd shut down every single one of her emotions.
I didn't let you read it,” she pointed out. “I let Panhead.”
“I know, but it's good. Why didn't you want me to read it?”
“You know why. I explained it all to Panhead.”
“Humor me.”
“I wasn't ready,” she said, oversimplifying it.
He gave her shoulders a little squeeze. “You are ready. You should be proud of what you've written, not hiding it from everyone.”
She canted her head slightly and studied him. “How can I trust anything you say?”
“I swear to you,” he said fervently, “the only thing I lied about was being Panhead. Everything else I told you was true.”
“You said you were a restaurant manager,” she accused.
“No. I said I was in the restaurant business, in management. It was true. I help manage the technology for restaurants.”
“That's splitting hairs.”
“Yes,” he conceded. “But it wasn't an outright lie.”
“And the dev you had the hots for?”
He moved a hand up to cradle her jaw. “You.”
She jerked her head away from his touch. The abruptness of the movement threw Jay off kilter, and he had to grab his wheels to stabilize himself.
Resuming her interrogation, she said, “Why the name Panhead?”
“It's the type of engine in my bike. It's a 1951 Harley Panhead.”
She watched him for a moment. “It's so obvious now, the similarities between you and Panhead. You must think I'm a complete moron.”
“No,” Jay said, shaking his head.
“I was so gullible, so pathetic. I made it so easy for you.” She crossed her arms, putting up a barrier between them. “There were moments I suspected, you know, but I convinced myself you'd never do that to me.”
Remorse burrowed into his gut like a thorn. Jay wanted to touch her again, to somehow make her feel how sorry he was, but her body language told him touching her was a bad idea. “Erin—”
“Luis must have given you my username.”
“Yes. He didn't want to, but I talked him into it.”
“Why?”
“You wouldn't talk to me, and I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to understand the whole dev thing.”
“Why? Why didn't you just leave me alone?”
“Because I was attracted to you, and I didn't know any other way to get you to talk to me.”
“You weren't attracted to me. You were repulsed by me.”
“No.”
She looked skeptical.
“Okay,” said Jay. “Maybe at first. But Luis and I started talking about it, and he made me realize the whole dev thing might not be black and white. I wanted to find out more. And the longer I was around you, the
more I wanted to know you.”
She gave a short nod, as if something had been confirmed. “I was something new but taboo because of your own moral code. I was like the freak show at a carnival. You were disgusted but intrigued.”
Jay felt his face heat with the force of his despair. “Dammit. No. That's not true. I was attracted to you, and I wanted to learn more, but the deepest conversation I could get out of you was about paying the fucking bills.”
“And you learned something from what emanomaly told you. She—I—made the whole devotee thing palatable for you.”
Jay didn't answer, but he knew his silence was damning enough.
Erin laughed, but the sound was dark and devoid of any humor. “But you didn't get the whole story, did you? Not until four days ago.”
He leaned toward her again, one hand on a wheel and one hand daring to touch her knee. He felt a crucial need to break through to her before she finished this wall she was building around herself.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Yes, what I did was wrong. I wanted to tell you I was Panhead months ago, but I was afraid of losing you. I was a chickenshit, and I know prolonging the lie made things worse.”
No color had returned to her face. She was like a marble statue as she watched him, impervious to anything he said.
“But I've never lied to you about any of the important stuff, not about your writing or how I feel about you.” Her stony gaze didn’t let up, so Jay said the words that might be his only way of reaching her. “I love you, Erin.”
She rolled her eyes.
It wasn't the reaction he wanted, but at least it was some sort of reaction, a crack in the armor. “I swear, it's true.”
I'm still a dev, Jay,” she said woodenly. “I can't change that, no matter how much I want to.” Her arms, still folded in front of her, tightened as if she were reinforcing the wall. “Declaring your love for me won't change it either.”
“That's not why I said it, and I don't want you to change.”
“Whatever.” She tried to jerk her knee away from his hand.
He followed the movement, not letting her go. “I don't want you to change,” he insisted. “I want you just the way you are.”
“Oh, right,” she said cynically. “Look, you're off the hook. Okay?”
He drew his brows together. “What?”
“You just found out I almost killed myself because of something you said, and you feel guilty about it. But you know what? It wasn't really because of you. It was exhaustion, pure and simple. I was tired of being alone, of being a freak and a perv, and I just wanted it to end.”
Jay's heart split in two at that.
“But don't worry.” She stood and placed her chair between them, hands resting on the back of it. “It won't happen again. I'm not suicidal, so you don't have to make meaningless declarations of love and pretend like the sight of me doesn't make your skin crawl.”
“Goddammit, Erin! That's not how I feel at all!” Gripping his tires, Jay exhaled harshly, trying to rein in his temper. “I meant what I said. I'm in love with you.”
Her tone was tart. “For some reason, I find that hard to believe.”
“Give me another chance.”
She turned her back on him and went to her closet, where she dragged out a large, black, soft-sided suitcase that was almost as big as she was.
His pulse spiked with fear. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving.” She heaved the suitcase onto her rumpled bed and unzipped it. Turning to her dresser, she pulled some folded underwear and lacy bras from the top drawer and tossed them in the suitcase.
Jay wheeled over to her and clamped a hand on her slim wrist, firmly enough to stop her but not enough to hurt her. She froze.
“Don't do this,” he said. “I know you're pissed, but cool off first. Think about it.”
“You have no idea how I feel. Let go of me.”
“No. Give me another chance.”
Her mouth tightened. “Sorry. Fresh out. You were already pushing it with two.”
“Dammit. I know I don't deserve another one, but you told Panhead—me—that you love me. That has to be worth something.”
She finally looked at him, her pale, green-gold eyes holding no mercy. “You're not who I thought you were.”
Jay clenched his jaw. “No. You're right. I'm human, and I made a mistake. I'm not perfect. You put me on a pedestal that was too high, and I fell far. Real far. But doesn't the reason I did it count for something? I just wanted to get closer to you.”
He'd loosened his grip on her wrist, and she broke free of him. She headed to her closet and began grabbing shirts and jeans. “Let's not forget you couldn't stand to be in the same room with me for the past four days,” she said, yanking a flowing black top from the closet and adding it to the pile in her arms. “I'm not who you thought I was either. Face it. What we had was based on lies and half-truths.” She stuffed the bundle of clothing in the suitcase, hangers and all, not bothering to fold any of it.
Jay angrily shoved at his wheels to get to her, then placed his hands around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, enfolding her in his arms. Unfortunately, something shifted in his back in the process of grabbing her, and pain shot through him like sparks from a fire that had just been stoked, savage and pervasive. “Fuck,” he gasped. He buried his fists in the back of Erin's T-shirt, and he had to force himself to loosen his grip.
At first Erin was stiff, not melding to him as she usually did, but when she realized he was hurting, she frowned and touched his face with her palm. Jay leaned into it, closing his eyes and riding the wave of pain. He was heartened by Erin's unexpected show of compassion until she said, “Go to California, Jay.” The bite was gone from her voice, replaced by weariness. “Get your back fixed.”
Eyes still clenched shut, Jay buried his face in the curve of her neck and shook his head. The last thing he wanted to talk about right now was his fucking back. “It's nighttime. Where will you go?”
“To my friend Angie's. Tomorrow, I'll figure out how to catch up with my brother on the tour.”
Jay lifted his head. “Don't do this.”
She hesitated, her expression uncertain for a split second, but she quickly squelched it, replacing it with that damned blank mask. She tried to get up, but he hugged her to him, their faces just inches apart.
“I'll cyberstalk you,” he said fiercely, teeth clenched. “I'll text you every second of every day. I'll send so many e-mails your box will fill up. Same with the voice mail on your phone. You won't have a moment's peace. Do you hear me?”
Her eyes were filled with sadness, but her mouth quirked a little. “You don't do creepy very well, Jay. I'm not exactly quaking in my boots.”
He knew she was slipping away, no matter what he did or said, and his heart thudded so hard he shook. Panic and desperation drove him to beg. “Please,” he said, taking her face in his hands, “don't leave. I love you.”
She shook her head and then touched her lips to Jay's in a light, bittersweet kiss that shredded his soul—because he knew she was saying good-bye.
Chapter 26
Jay: I miss you. I love you. I'm an asshole. I'm sorry.
* * *
Jay: Just give me one more chance. Just one more. I know you don't hate me. You're not capable of it. Let's work through this. Please.
* * *
Jay: Come on, darlin'. I'm sorry. We need to talk.
* * *
Jay: Just because you're not answering me doesn't mean I'll give up. You love me. I'll never forget you said that.
* * *
Jay: I'm sorry, darlin'. Talk to me.
* * *
Jay: Chopper is depressed. He says the house is lonely without you.
* * *
Jay: Actually, Chopper and I both are depressed. We need you.
* * *
Jay: I miss you. Maybe you're not even getting these messages, but I hope you are. Any response would be good, even if it's to tell
me you're calling the stalker police. I'm not stopping until you talk to me again.
* * *
Jay: Erin, I'm going back to California. Luis wants me to open a branch of his company in Oakland. But if there's a chance you could forgive me or you have even an ounce of feeling left for me, please tell me. I won't go if there's a chance we could work things out when you get back to Texas.
* * *
Jay: I'm leaving San Antonio, Erin. Please tell me if you don't want me to go. I will renew my lease and wait for you if you just give me some kind of sign.
* * *
Jay: Last chance. I'm leaving for Cali tomorrow.
* * *
Jay: Back in Cali now. Still miss you. Still sorry. Still love you. Stay safe and don't eat too much junk food.
* * *
Jay: P.S. If you change your mind, I don't have to stay in Cali. I would come back to Texas for you in a heartbeat.
* * *
Jay: So, I found this website called sotruefacts.com. I'm discovering all kinds of things that are highly useful. For instance, did you know astronauts are not allowed to eat beans before they go into space because the gas damages their space suits?
Chopper's been pretty gassy lately. Good thing he's not an astronaut. On the upside, I haven't had to fumigate my place for vermin lately.
Hope all is well with you, darlin'. Take care.
* * *
Jay: So, ignoring me isn't going to make me go away. I need you to answer me. Just once. Please.
* * *
Jay: I saw that Silver made it to the Download 15 on that satellite college radio station. Congrats. Hope you're still finding time to write.
* * *
Jay: sotruefacts #959: In November 2013, a woman in Florida named Linda Duchame married a fairground Ferris Wheel named Bruce. Should I be worried that the Golden Gate Bridge is starting to look pretty sexy?
Have mercy on me, darlin'. I'm losing my mind without you.