by L. A. Witt
“It looks like hell right now.”
“Give it a couple more days. Once the scab is gone, it’ll be fine.”
Nate had looked at Caleb’s own tiger, which was already healed and crisp, and hoped that was a preview of how his would eventually turn out. Once it stopped itching.
In the present, he absently scratched away a phantom itch. No, burning this thing away didn’t seem right. Covering it up didn’t seem like such a hot idea anymore, either. He could put a hundred designs over the top of it and the tiger would still exist under all the layers, just like his marriage to Caleb—bitter end and all—would always be there. Erasing it wasn’t possible, and maybe . . . maybe he didn’t want to erase it.
He was a different man than he’d been back before Caleb. The ten years they’d spent together had molded and shaped and changed him, and he wouldn’t be who he was now if his life had played out differently. If he’d never met Caleb, never fallen for him, never married him, never gotten that damn tattoo with him, never caught him cheating . . . there wouldn’t have been Lucas.
Nate swallowed a sudden ache in his throat. Okay, maybe he’d have met Lucas through Jon and Matt, but would he have connected with him the same way? Would they have bonded so quickly and strongly over that cathartic sex they’d both so desperately needed?
The ache intensified. Would he have hurt Lucas so badly? Sure, Lucas had been the one to end things, but it wasn’t his fault they’d ended. The hurt in his eyes had been unmistakable, and Nate had no illusions who was to blame. Hell, he’d been the one to declare his marriage over, but it was Caleb’s actions that had ended it.
Fuck. Lucas was right. Nate had used him. Instead of covering Nate’s tattoo, Lucas had been the cover up. The distraction. The brighter colors and happier moments so Nate didn’t have to look at the shit his life had become.
Christ. What did I do? And what do I do now?
As he stared at himself and his tattoo in the mirror, he realized that for better or worse, he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—cover up the past or pretend it had never happened. Maybe instead of erasing the past, what he needed to do was make peace with it.
Question was, where to start? What was he supposed to do to pull any of those wounds back together? And for that matter, he’d just been dumped. Where did the pain from one breakup end and the other begin? Did losing Lucas seem more painful because the wound was fresher? What the fuck was he supposed to do about any of it? Because right about then, the only “solution” that sounded remotely promising involved the words “shit” and “faced.”
Except that would only be more of the same—hiding from the pain. Numbing it. No matter how much the idea turned his stomach, he suspected the only way he was fixing any of this was to face it head on.
Starting with . . .
He closed his eyes and swore. Fuck. Wouldn’t this be fun?
But he had to make this call, or he was going to lose his mind, so he took out his phone and dialed before he could talk himself out of it. Was 0630 too early to be calling? No. No, he’d be awake.
At the other end, a familiar voice made Nate’s heart stop: “Hello?”
Nate gulped. “Caleb. Hi. It’s Nate.”
Silence.
He cleared his throat. “Can we talk?”
“Um. Yeah. I guess.”
“I was thinking in person.”
“Oh.” Caleb fell quiet again for a few seconds. “Is this something we should bring our attorneys along—”
“No. No, I think this is just us.” Nate exhaled. “I just want to talk about things. This isn’t about any of the legal shit.”
“Oh. Okay. Um.” More silence. “I guess we can do that.”
They agreed to meet after Nate got off work and settled on a coffee shop near Caleb’s law firm. It was one they’d been to plenty of times, especially when Caleb had been stuck working over a weekend.
As Nate walked toward the coffee shop that evening, he wondered with no shortage of bitterness how many times those “work weekends” had been . . . not.
Shaking himself, he banished that thought. Weekends were as much a part of a lawyer’s world as they were a pilot’s. At least some of those “sorry I have to work” weekends had been legitimate, and it wouldn’t do Nate—or his better-late-than-never healing process—any good to try to pinpoint which ones hadn’t.
Nate ordered a coffee to justify taking up a table, but his stomach was roiling too much to even think about drinking it. And he probably should’ve ordered decaf. That shit may have been sacrilege to consume, but he was too wired for even a mild stimulant.
Fortunately—sort of—his ex-husband didn’t keep him waiting long. Just a few minutes past the time they were supposed to meet, Caleb strolled into the coffee shop and took Nate’s breath away.
Caleb looked older now. He seemed to have put on ten years in the handful of months they’d been apart. Or was that how he’d looked the day Nate kicked him out? Had Nate just not noticed how much his husband had aged during their time together?
His husband. Their time together. Intellectually, he knew they’d been married, that they’d spent ten years of their lives together, but it felt alien to think about it. It was almost like Nate was remembering a movie he’d seen ages ago, not an enormous chunk of his own life.
He took a minute just to look at the stranger sitting across from him. It was Caleb, of course, but he wasn’t Nate’s husband anymore. He wasn’t someone Nate could picture himself with.
We loved each other? I don’t even know who you are.
Caleb sipped his coffee like they were just here for a casual chat, then folded his hands on the table. “So, you wanted to talk.”
“Yeah. I . . .” Who are you? Nate swallowed. “I think we need to talk about how things ended.”
His ex-husband flinched. “There isn’t really much to say, is there?” He shrugged, which revealed some tension in his neck and shoulders that Nate hadn’t noticed before. “I fucked up.”
“By cheating or by getting caught?” It came out with more venom than Nate had intended.
Caleb glared at him, and from the way he narrowed his eyes, Nate could hear the You know what? Never mind coming a mile away.
Before Caleb could say it, though, Nate patted the air with both hands. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I . . . that wasn’t what . . .” He exhaled slowly. “I guess it just seems like we were happy for so long, and then it all fell apart overnight.”
Staring at the table, Caleb said, “I don’t think it was really overnight.”
Nate chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering what he was supposed to make of that. Or how to ask without turning this into a screaming match. When had conversations with Caleb turned into such a minefield? Finally, barely whispering, he said, “Just tell me why.”
Caleb flinched. “What good would that do?”
“Because I’ve spent the last few months twisting in the wind and wondering what the hell happened.” Nate swallowed. “How we went from . . .”
“From the perfect couple to this?”
It was Nate’s turn to flinch. “I don’t think we were ever the perfect couple, but yeah. I’m curious how we got from where we were to”—he pointed at himself and Caleb—“this.”
Caleb gazed into his coffee for the longest time. His expression offered nothing. Neither did his posture. He didn’t fidget or twitch. Didn’t look around like he wanted to find something besides Nate to focus on. He was just still and silent, staring into his cup, until he finally whispered, “To tell you the truth, I don’t really have an answer.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . .” He chewed his lip, then shook his head and sat back hard, suddenly radiating deep, heavy exhaustion. “I don’t know what happened. Or why. Everything was great between us, and then . . .” He looked away, fixing his gaze on something in the distance. “Then it suddenly felt like it wasn’t. And like it hadn’t been for a long time.”
“So, you cheate
d?”
Caleb sighed, lowering his gaze. “I should have come and talked to you. Maybe suggested counseling or something. I don’t . . .” He finally met Nate’s gaze again. “I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess . . . I mean, I guess I thought it was just a lull. Something that would get better.”
“But we went through rough patches before. They never just up and went away.”
“I know.” Caleb rubbed the back of his neck as he stared into his cup again. “And looking back, everything I did and didn’t do was fucking stupid. Believe me when I tell you, a day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t kicked myself for it.” He swallowed hard as he lowered his hand to the table. “I’m not telling you that it just happened. I did it. I fucked up. I accept responsibility for that, and I’m sorry. For everything. I completely understand if you hate me for it.” He looked in Nate’s eyes. “I just don’t have an explanation.”
It was a weirdly satisfying answer. Frustrating in its own way, but also not. Nate had been steeling himself for all the reasons he hadn’t been good enough, and why the new guy had been so much better. Maybe there didn’t need to be a why. It had happened. Caleb owned it. End of story. Somehow, that was enough. It didn’t change the reality of the situation—the end of their marriage and how much Nate had hurt and would hurt over it—but maybe he could lose a little less sleep over what he’d done to cause it.
Caleb went on. “You weren’t perfect, but neither was I. We both drove each other crazy sometimes.” He gave a tight half-shrug. “You can’t be with someone that long and not get on each other’s nerves sometimes. I . . . should’ve dealt with the things that bugged me. Not . . .”
Nate didn’t know what to say. Silence fell between them, and it stayed there for a long moment. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Not the companionable silence he’d sometimes shared with Lucas, or in better days with Caleb, but it wasn’t that excruciating quiet that had vibrated in the air while Caleb and his new man had dressed and left. When the screaming had run out and there’d been nothing left to say. When neither of them had spoken because anything they’d said would only make it worse.
Caleb sipped his coffee. “We split up, by the way.”
Nate blinked, startled as much by the fact that Caleb had spoken as the words themselves. “Huh?”
“Alex and me.” Caleb fixed his gaze on the table. “We, uh . . . broke up.”
“Oh.” What the hell was he supposed to say to that? A bland Sorry to hear it wouldn’t fly because . . . well, he really wasn’t. At the same time, he wasn’t happy, either. There was no compulsion whatsoever to gloat or be smug. Not like there would’ve been a few months ago. And strangely, it didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected to find out the other man had a name.
“I guess I’m not surprised,” Caleb said, more to himself than to Nate. “It’s hard to focus on someone when you’re feeling guilty over what you did to someone else.” He paused. “And no, I’m not saying that so you’ll sympathize with me. I just . . . I guess I just wanted you to know. I’m not even sure why.”
“Well. Now I do.” It didn’t come out as snide as it could’ve. And he hadn’t meant it to be snide. He didn’t know how he’d meant it, aside from a simple statement of fact. He supposed he could’ve commiserated and said he and Lucas had broken up too, but he tried to tamp down that thought as soon as it came up. That relationship wasn’t even on the same plane as Caleb and the other guy. There’d been no cheating or sneaking around. Nate hadn’t hurt anyone by being with Lucas.
No one except Lucas.
His throat tightened as way too many emotions bubbled to the surface.
Oh God. Lucas. What did I do?
Suddenly he couldn’t get out of the coffee shop fast enough. He’d accomplished what he’d come here to do, and now there was something else he needed to fix—assuming it wasn’t broken beyond repair.
He pushed away his cold coffee. “I think that’s everything I wanted to talk about. I should, uh, let you go.”
I need to get the fuck out of here.
Caleb nodded. “All right. I’m glad we talked.” He smiled faintly. Nate sort of returned it. Then they both got up and took their barely touched coffees to the bussing station.
Outside the coffee shop, they faced each other. Nate caught himself wishing it were November or something, so he’d have an excuse to hide his hands in jacket pockets. It was June, though. Warm and humid. No jacket in sight and no reason to stuff his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
How the hell were they supposed to say goodbye now? Obviously the peck on the lips they’d always done before wasn’t an option. A handshake seemed kind of weird.
Caleb cleared his throat. “So, um . . .”
Nate shifted his weight. “Yeah . . .”
Their eyes met, and suddenly it made perfect sense to hug him, so Nate did. Caleb didn’t recoil. He wrapped his arms around Nate, and they both held on tighter than they had in a long, long time.
Nate squeezed his eyes shut as the weight of the moment started to sink in. This was it. It was over. They’d talked, and the anger had cooled, but . . . it was over. Ten years and some change—over.
This wouldn’t be one of those divorces where they found their way back to friendship. If there’d been kids involved, they’d have figured out how to be civil coparents, and maybe they would’ve been friendly too. But there was nothing tying them together anymore. No obligations and no emotions. When they saw each other after today, it would be with lawyers. Once the divorce was final, they wouldn’t see each other at all. Though Nate genuinely wished him the best, this was where they parted ways for good, and he decided he was okay with that.
They separated, exchanged benign, friendly smiles, and started walking in opposite directions.
Nate hadn’t realized how much his emotions had been all over the place until now. Until they were settling. It was like he’d been dreading this all these months, building up all kinds of anticipation and playing out every worst-case scenario in his mind, and now it was done. Over. On paper, they were still married and would be for a while, and he’d still carry Caleb’s name longer than he’d like, but this part was done. He’d asked why, and he’d gotten his answer. They’d faced each other, and though they hadn’t said much out loud, it was enough.
It was closure he hadn’t known he’d needed. Facing Caleb had been like walking into an open-casket funeral. It had been a final look at the deceased. A moment to take it in and realize death had occurred and couldn’t be undone. Now the lid was closed, the casket lowered, and finally, Nate could break out of the denial and begin to really and truly grieve.
And he was exhausted. Physically and emotionally. Part of him wanted nothing more than to go home, faceplant in bed, and sleep for the next several hours. In fact, something told him he was going to sleep a little better at night from here on out. Knowing they’d ended on . . . not a happy note, but a better one. They could both move on now. As strangers, yes, but he could make peace with that.
And now that he thought about it, it wasn’t just hard to imagine he’d ever been in love with Caleb—it was hard to imagine he’d ever hated him. He really was a step up from a stranger now. Someone Nate might stop and say hello to at the grocery store or exchange waves if they saw each other in a crowd, but the sight of him wouldn’t trigger tears or rage.
Nate closed his eyes and released a long breath. He was glad he’d done this. It hadn’t been easy, but now he was pretty sure he could move on for good.
Would he sleep better? Now that he thought about it, probably not.
Because Caleb hadn’t been the one keeping him awake lately.
Nate swallowed. If facing Caleb had been tough, this was liable to kill him. Still, it was necessary. Dear God, he had to do this.
Easy or not, it was time to man up and fix things with Lucas.
Chapter 26
Lucas didn’t think it was possible, but his body was even more exhausted than his mind. It was almost eleven
o’clock at night, and he’d been up since five-thirty. Calling things off with Nate had pulled all the energy he’d had right out of him, but he’d still had to drag his ass into work. He’d worked full shifts at both the office and the call center today, and he felt every minute of them. His knees and ankles didn’t ache—they fucking hurt. His neck, back, and shoulders were stiff in that way that meant tomorrow—when he was at Skin Deep—he’d be miserable.
But he’d think about tomorrow when it got here. For now, all he had to do was get to his car, drive home, and collapse in bed. Or within a few feet of his bed. The floor didn’t even sound half bad right now.
Then, when he’d slept, maybe he could think about how much it had hurt to walk away from Nate.
His eyes stung, and he swiped at them. He’d cried in the car that morning. If he had the energy left, he might cry some more that night. Leaving had been the right thing to do. He knew it. He had no doubt. The only option had been to walk away before he got in deeper than he’d already been.
But goddamn, it hurt.
And goddamn Nate for all of it.
Couldn’t you have gotten over your ex and left me the fuck out of it?
Lucas wiped his eyes again on his way out of the call center. Numbly, on autopilot, he shuffled out the back door, and as he headed toward his car, searched for the key. Except his car was unlocked by a remote, not a key. God, he was tired. Yep, he just needed to get home and—
“Lucas, wait.”
He stopped dead. He didn’t need to look to know that voice, but when he turned, he was still somehow shocked. “Nate? What are you . . . I . . .”
Nate halted a few steps away and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Can we talk?”
That blanket of fatigue was getting even heavier now. Too many hours of nonstop work had left Lucas exhausted, and all the time and energy he’d spent pining after Nate hadn’t helped. Facing him now, knowing damn well he hadn’t come to talk about tattoos or the weather, made Lucas want to collapse right there on the pavement and pass out.