Jenna sucked in a deep breath. Well, that outlook certainly explained Valerie’s reluctance to be friendly, but Jenna felt compelled to set her straight. “Valerie, if I may call you that, Ethan has changed…and that’s because he’s no longer using.”
“I fell for that one too many times.”
Jenna realized that maybe Valerie would have to see for herself, and perhaps it would take years for her to change her mind. She’d been scarred by Ethan, and she was having a hard time accepting the changes he’d made. Val got four glasses out of the cabinet and a tiny green sippy cup. The glasses fit inside each other, so she asked Jenna, “Can you carry these?”
Jenna nodded and took them from Valerie as the other woman took the spoon out of the pitcher and placed it in the sink. Then she carried the pitcher toward the living room and Jenna followed her. When they got there, Chris was sitting in Brad’s lap on the couch, playing with some blocks, and Ethan was sitting next to them.
Valerie placed the pitcher on the coffee table and then took the glasses and cup from Jenna. She unscrewed the lid of the sippy cup and poured lemonade in it before putting the lid back on and handing it to her son. Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Val, I overheard part of your conversation in the kitchen with Jenna…purely by accident.” Brad nodded, looking a little sheepish. “I know you’re probably never gonna trust me, but I’d appreciate it if, from now on, you could keep that to yourself. I am better and I have changed. I know it’s not easy for you to understand that, but it’s true. You’re still clinging to your old beliefs about me, and if that works for you, great. But my son is getting old enough that he’ll start listening to you and believing every word you say. I start using again…you take him away from me. Get full custody. Get a restraining order. Move and don’t give me your forwarding address. I don’t give a rat’s ass. But for now—when I’ve actually made those changes—give me a chance, would you?”
Talk about awkward. Jenna stole a glance at Brad and Chris. Brad was holding a plastic truck for Chris while the child drank from his cup and looking away, but Jenna suspected he felt as uncomfortable as she did. Val asked, “Why now, Ethan?” Her tone was full of accusation, but she wasn’t raising her voice.
He shrugged, quiet for a few moments, as his gaze fell upon his son. But then he looked back up at Valerie. “I guess it’s because I finally hit rock bottom. There was no hope, no future, and I was being swallowed by my addictions…and more. I have a lot of mental shit going on that fueled a lot of it, and I’m just now becoming aware of it.”
Valerie’s expression softened. “Depression?”
Ethan nodded. “Jenna’s helped me see how it feeds into the destructive behavior I tend to lean toward, and I’m learning new ways of coping with it.” He made sure he had her attention and he held his hand up, almost pinching his index finger and thumb together but leaving a little room in between. “I’m this close to happiness, Val, something I’ve never been…ever. And, whether she wants to admit it or not, Jenna is a big part of it. I’m not a slave to the shit I took anymore. I’m free, and now I just want to try to live a normal life.” He looked over at Jenna and smiled. “I know that doesn’t mean I’m on easy street now, but it does mean that I want to live, and I want to live a good life.”
Jenna could tell Val was trying to smile, but instead her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over the next time she blinked. She frowned and said, “Sorry.”
Ethan stepped closer. “You don’t need to be sorry, Val. I’m sorry…I’m sorry for the hell I put you through. I know I don’t even know half of what you went through, but I know you did it because you believed in me, and I let you down.” He clenched his jaw but continued looking at Valerie. Jenna was impressed—she hadn’t expected him to reach that point yet. “I don’t do all the twelve step stuff, but I do think it’s a good thing to apologize for what I did when I was consumed by all that shit. That goes for you too, Brad. I don’t expect you guys to forgive me or trust me, but I hope I can prove myself over time. I just ask that you let me see my son. He’s the world to me.”
Val’s lip quivered and she blinked, and there went the tears. Jenna felt herself growing emotional just watching. Val wrapped her arms around Ethan and said again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how hard it had been for you. I was just feeling my own pain.”
Ethan held her and said, “Don’t say sorry, Val. You don’t need to.” It was then that Jenna could tell that Ethan and Val still loved each other, and she felt her heart sink. That meant she (and Brad) would always play second fiddle to them. And that little tear she thought she’d reined in fell to her cheek and she closed her eyes, hoping to will the remainder of them away.
Chapter Thirty-four
JENNA DIDN’T SAY a word on the trip back to Ethan’s apartment, but Chris chatted enough for both of them. Ethan wondered why Jenna was being so quiet. Halfway home, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She was looking out of the passenger window, staring at a concrete wall, and didn’t turn to face him.
“Jenna…”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You think I don’t know you well enough?” She didn’t say a word, so Ethan just drove. When he saw the McDonald’s, he pulled over and drove into the parking lot.
“Why are we here?”
“Coffee for us, juice and French fries for Chris.” Jenna raised her eyebrows but unbuckled her seatbelt. They stood in line and ordered and less than five minutes later, Chris was in a high chair munching on a fry and Jenna was stirring cream into her coffee. Ethan said, “We’re not leaving until you tell me what’s bothering you. Did Val say something to upset you?” He suspected he’d only heard part of their conversation, and God knew what Val might have said. True or not, it would have been tainted with Val’s low opinion of him, and he just wanted to know what it was.
Jenna sucked in a slow breath, and then she blinked a few times. Why the hell was she ready to cry? Why wouldn’t she talk to him? “Hey,” he said, and got up to move to her side of the booth.
Chris watched him from the high chair at the end of the table. When he sat down again, Chris said, “Daddy. Free-fry.”
Ethan smiled at his son. Chris was holding out a limp fry, wanting to feed it to Ethan, so he leaned forward and opened his mouth, letting his son deposit the potato in his mouth. “Thanks, buddy.” He tousled the hair on his smiling boy, and then turned his attention to Jenna. He put his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. “What’s bothering you? Talk to me. You can be honest with me, Jenna. I’ve been around the block a time or two. Nothing you say will shock me, especially if Val said something nasty. It’s okay. I can take it.”
Jenna began sobbing in earnest then, and he decided maybe he just needed to let her get it out of her system. He looked back at his son and winked at the boy who decided he liked the little paper cup of ketchup and was dunking his index finger in it and licking his finger off, neglecting the fries. After a few minutes, her sobs died down and she grabbed a napkin off the table to wipe the tears away. She didn’t look at Ethan, but she said, “You still love her, don’t you?”
“Valerie?” Jenna nodded, her head back on his chest. Again, it was time to be honest. If he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman, he needed to be truthful with her. And that hit him hard when he realized he did want to be with Jenna forever. He inhaled and ran his hand down the back of her head over her silky hair. “Part of me will always love her, Jenna. She’s the mother of my child. I was her first and the father of her child, and as much as she hates me, she probably still has feelings too. But make no mistake—I don’t love her like a wife anymore. It’s more a respect than love, I guess, and I do care about her. She’s a beautiful human being. I’m sure you don’t believe that, because you haven’t had the chance to see her like I see her. But there’s a reason why we’re not together. We would never work. We’re not compatible. And the fire’s gone. The only feeli
ngs we have for each other now are based on history and our child.”
He kissed the top of her head. “There’s another woman now. She’s tough as nails and she’s helped me walk through the valley of death. She’s helped me find a reason to live, and she loves me in spite of every bad thing I’ve ever done. She’s stood behind me and helped me to understand why I’ve failed before and helped me to become someone better than I’d ever hoped. That is the woman who now has my undying love.”
Jenna looked up at Ethan then, blinking back fresh tears. She didn’t say anything, looked like she couldn’t speak, but she stroked his cheek with her hand. Ethan said, “I want to spend forever with that woman…but I don’t know that I’m worthy, and I don’t know if she loves me the same way.”
She inhaled deeply then and sat up. “Oh, I do, Ethan. I love you with everything I am. I think you’re the first man who ever really understood me. I don’t want to be without you.”
“Then don’t.” He kissed her then, a life-affirming kiss that she felt down to the depths of her soul.
Chris banged on the table and said, “Jenna! Free-fry!”
She opened her eyes and looked at the sweet little boy sitting at the end of the table, his mouth and tiny fist covered in ketchup. He was holding out a fry towards Jenna, beaming with pride. Ethan whispered, “Can you handle that?”
She winked at him and said, “Don’t mind if I do.” She leaned toward Chris and said, “Bring it, little man,” then opened her mouth to receive his gift. Ethan squeezed her shoulders, ready to begin his new life, eager to try on a little happiness for the first time. He suspected he was going to enjoy it.
Epilogue
I’M LIVING PROOF that if you’re strong enough, you can survive. It helps to have someone who loves you and believes in you, though, and there was something I didn’t tell Jenna that day in McDonald’s. I told her later that Brad and I shook hands that day, vowing to get our band back together and do what we did best—make music.
I had worried that my creative juices were dried up, gone, believing that I could only experience inspirational revelation while under the influence. It’s not true. It was harder for me, yeah, but not impossible. Clarity in the long run actually improved my writing, particularly when it came to lyrics. I read some of my newest stuff and actually think there might be a poet inside of me.
Yeah, Jenna and I are still together. She really is my soulmate. And Brad and Val gave Chris a cute little sister who looks an awful lot like him. We haven’t told them that he’s going to have another sibling soon…but they’ll find out soon enough.
Peace out, my friends. I don’t plan to give you any more laughable concerts where you all place bets on when I’m going to topple over, unable to get up.
But I don’t promise to not break another guitar in the moment of passion. That shit’s just too fucking cool, and you guys eat it up. That’s one of the things I live for.
Thanks for this second chance. I won’t let you down.
Feverish
Chapter One
CLAYTON “JET” SMITH stretched his arms. Holy shit, were they sore. It took him a few seconds as he stirred from sleep to remember why. It was the crazy shit he and that stacked blonde had been up to last night. Jesus, the things some women did blew his mind. Last night would be one he’d never forget…but she’d given him a hell of a workout.
He chuckled quietly thinking about the broken end table in the living room. His cleaning lady would give him hell about it, but it wouldn’t be the first broken thing in his house she would have had to dispose of. He’d have to give her another bonus.
He froze. Waitaminute. He was pretty sure the blonde was still here, in his house, probably in his bed.
And he couldn’t remember her name.
Fuck.
He rolled onto his back slowly, his eyes mostly closed so he could feign sleep if need be. Just a little farther. Yep. She was still there. She remained asleep, though, so he let out a breath of air. He needed to think through the amber haze of last night’s whiskey to remember her name.
It was something semi-exotic. Carmen? Lucia? Anja? Hell, there was no way he was gonna remember. Maybe he could pretend to be asleep forever, and she’d just give up on him and leave.
No. That hadn’t worked with the last girl. Maybe instead he’d just go somewhere, and she’d get tired of waiting for him to return. Or he could call his cleaning lady and ask her to come over to make sure the girl left.
Nah. Mary hadn’t appreciated it the last time he’d asked her to do that, even though he’d almost doubled her weekly salary.
Shit. Well, maybe he could just make nice and kick the girl out without saying a name. He could get away with it, right?
Damn straight. He was fucking Jet Smith, lead guitarist of one of the best goddamned bands on the planet. She should be happy he let her suck his dick.
Clay almost winced even thinking that. He loved women. He really did. But he hadn’t felt anything for one in a long time, not since Valerie Quinn. Well, she wasn’t Quinn anymore. In fact, she was on her second marriage. Did he regret losing that woman? Yeah, part of him did, but he’d known they weren’t right for each other. He’d known it since spying her expression upon seeing what she’d referred to as his “Wall of Shame.” Part of Val would always be sweet and innocent, and Clay hadn’t felt right soiling her with his sordid urges. He loved her and part of him always would, and he knew that was why it was hard for him to find any other woman satisfactory.
In fact, most women anymore were like Carmen Lucia Anja here, a great night in the sack (out of the sack, actually), someone to pass the time with in a spectacular way, but Clay couldn’t visualize the future much past a few days.
That was okay, he’d told himself. He was still young. His band was enjoying a short hiatus after touring for their third album and he was, for all intents and purposes, famous. True, most people still didn’t recognize him, but he couldn’t go out in public without someone figuring out who he was. That made it all worthwhile.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel as though he were missing something. Part of him felt empty and, even though he knew what it was deep down, there was no way in hell he was going to acknowledge it out loud, and he certainly wasn’t going to meditate over the matter. Instead, he was going to enjoy himself. He was thirty-two now, still young. His only child was in school now, but even that didn’t mean he was old. No, his age didn’t have anything to do with that gnawing feeling in the back of his head. It was…
Carmen Lucia Anja stirred next to him and turned her head. She had a big smile on her face. Her teeth were white, and she was pretty in her own way, but her platinum blonde hair looked fake in the sunlight streaming through the curtains. The two centimeters of black roots didn’t help. Her black mascara and eyeliner were smudged under her eyes. Up close, in bed, in natural light, he realized that Carmen Lucia Anja was actually his age. How the fuck had that happened? He usually liked them a few years younger—not much, but a little.
Her voice should have purred, but it was raspy. “My God, Jet, you are a tiger.” One corner of her lip turned up in a smile and she sat up. The sheet fell off her breasts. Those boobs were obviously fake. They were the size of cantaloupes. He couldn’t even look at them now. He’d almost suffocated between them the night before.
He almost shook his head, remembering that. He smiled and glanced at the clock on the nightstand behind her. Jesus. It was two-thirty in the afternoon. That was fucking crazy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d awakened before nine AM. Enough was enough.
She giggled and then swung her feet off the edge of the bed. He sat up too and stretched his neck. She was screwing around with something next to the clock. Probably a pair of earrings or something. He used her distraction as an excuse to find his jeans, but they were nowhere to be seen. Of course. He hadn’t taken them off in the bedroom. He jumped up and walked over to the dresser, opening one of the middle drawers and yanking the top pair of j
eans out and slipping into them. When he turned around, he half expected her to be drooling at his ass, but her head was bent over the nightstand. Oh, yeah. He couldn’t believe she had any coke left. He’d completely forgotten about that shit.
He heard her snorting it through the rolled-up dollar bill, first in one nostril and then the other. She sat up and shook her head, and even though he couldn’t see her face, he could tell she was wiping at the bottom of her nose with her index finger and thumb to remove any residual traces. She stood again. Okay, yeah, so she had a really cute ass, but he knew she wasn’t his type…aside from the fact that she was a woman, and she liked to fuck. That much he could remember from last night.
“Do you care if I shower, stud?”
Why was he feeling like such a pussy? Probably because he hated hurting anyone’s feelings. He shook his head. “No. Go ahead.”
She slinked up close to him. “I’d love it if you’d join me.” He tried to smile but was afraid it probably looked like he was wincing. “Or…would you rather lick the rest of the blow off my tits? Like you did last night?”
Oh, fuck, that was right. God, he’d been even crazier than usual. Chicks like this brought it out in him. Of course, the cocaine hadn’t hurt either. But her offer gave him the perfect excuse. “Sweetheart, as much as I like that thought, I really shouldn’t. I overindulged last night.”
She licked her lips, looking like she could gobble him down for good. “Yeah, I think you did for sure.”
“You know where the bathroom is. Help yourself.”
By that point, she was up close and personal, and she placed her hands on his chest, looking up at him. “When I get out, we can get the party started again.” She started kissing one of his nipples, pulling the piercing into her mouth and holding the ring between her teeth. Then she started flicking it with her tongue again.
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