by Witt, L. A.
“I know you did. And I’m sorry it’s been so rough.”
“Thanks.”
All I have to do now is find the courage to go talk to him . . .
Chapter 33
Jesse
“Jesse Connelly.” Lydia gave me one of those looks that said I was in deep shit, as if my full name hadn’t already given that away. “We need to have a chat in the office.”
Aw, crap. Preemptive guilt swelled in my gut. I didn’t know what I’d done, but with as out of it as I’d been for the last few days, I wasn’t surprised I’d fucked something up.
So, I put aside the inventory sheet I’d been entering into the computer and followed her into the back. As we walked, I glanced at Dexy, and she grimaced like she thought I was about to get reamed. Did she know what was going on or what I’d fucked up? Because I sure as fuck didn’t. All I knew was Lydia didn’t usually raise her voice at anyone unless something was really, really fubar. Not that she’d raised her voice yet, but anytime I got called back into the office, I expected an ass-chewing like I’d occasionally gotten at my previous jobs.
Steeling myself, I stepped into the office with her.
She shut the door and leaned against Simon’s desk, arms folded loosely across her Wolf’s Landing T-shirt, and inclined her head. “What’s going on?”
I fought the urge to shift my weight. “With what?”
“With you, hon. You’ve been a wreck since you came back from Seattle, and I’m not buying the explanations that you’re tired from the trip. Not after almost a week.”
I avoided her gaze.
Her tone was softer as she asked, “What happened in Seattle?”
Oh. That.
Fuck.
Can’t you just scream at me for something I screwed up? Do we have to talk about this?
But I sagged against the door and sighed. “We split up.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
I pressed my fingers into the bridge of my nose. “Everything was going great. I mean, when we went out to dinner the last night, it was . . .” I dropped my hand and let my head fall against the door. “God, it was perfect. Seriously the most romantic night of my life. And the next day it all went to hell.”
“How? Why?”
I took a breath and told her, my voice cracking more than once as I relived the fight between him and his sister-in-law. Even more when I told her about the one between him and me. I was genuinely shocked I hadn’t broken out into a sweat by the time I was done.
“Then I told him I couldn’t do it anymore,” I said. “He needed someone I’m not, and I . . .”
“What did he say?” She cringed like she was already playing it out in her mind.
I deflated. “He told me he loved me.”
Lydia’s teeth snapped together, and her eyes widened. “Come again?”
I stared at my feet. “He said he loved me.”
“And?”
I looked at her. “And . . . it was after what his sister-in-law had said. And I mean it wasn’t even twenty-four hours after we’d visited the cemetery where—”
“So what? You were there for him and being supportive when he needed you, and then you had a nice romantic evening together. He’d damn well better love you!”
“I don’t want him to love me just because I was there for him when he was grieving.”
Lydia pinched the bridge of her nose and forced out a long breath. “Jesse. Sweetheart. Don’t make me smack you.”
“For what?”
She groaned as she flailed her hand. “For fuck’s sake. Are you being deliberately obtuse?”
I blinked.
Lydia rolled her eyes and started ticking points off on her fingers. “When he was at his most emotionally vulnerable, he took you with him because he trusted you enough to lean on you when he needed you. When you guys were at the con together, he was practically swooning over you every time he saw you. When you were sick, he took care of you. And I know that last one drove you nuts because you’re you, but the fact is, he did it because he cares about you, and you damn well better not take that shit for granted.” She lowered her hands. “What more do you need?”
I didn’t answer.
And she wasn’t done, apparently. “When you two fought and you walked out, how long had it been since his sister-in-law tore into him?”
“I don’t know. We’d just gotten back to Bluewater Bay, and we left Seattle like an hour after it—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m not asking if a train leaves Bluewater Bay and a fight happens in Seattle.” She waved her hand. “Point is, it was the same day, yeah?”
I nodded.
“And it was after a pretty emotionally intense weekend, wasn’t it?”
The weekend flashed through my mind—the visit to Sean’s grave, our romantic evening at the Space Needle, the fight with his sister-in-law—and I gulped. “You could say that.”
She held my gaze, tilting her head slightly. “Don’t you think that maybe you should’ve cut him a little bit of slack? He’s a grieving widower who’d just been verbally bitch-slapped by his dead husband’s sister.” She threw up her hands. “Would you be able to process or express your feelings after something like that?”
Well, shit. When she put it like that . . .
“God. Now I feel like a dick.” I banged my head back against the door and cursed. “But I mean, how can I tell if he does want me or . . . someone who isn’t here anymore?”
“At some point, you’re going to have to trust him when he says what he wants.”
“But it’s only been a year.”
“Yeah, and people grieve in their own way and in their own time. The fact that he met you while he was still grieving—that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”
“But how do I know I’m not just filling in until he’s strong enough to move on from his husband?”
Lydia’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. “Have you seen the way that man looks at you?”
My composure was threatening to crumple, but I managed to say, “Yeah. And do you know how much it hurts to think of who he’s really seeing when he looks at me like that?”
Her lips parted. “Do you actually believe that?”
“I . . .”
I don’t know what I believe.
I want to be wrong.
I’m terrified I’m right.
“Jesse.”
I met Lydia’s gaze.
“Do you love him?”
Instantly, my vision blurred, and I looked away as I swiped at my eyes. “So much.”
The desk creaked and her shoes scuffed across the floor. When her hands met my shoulders, I thought I was going to crack. “Go talk to him, hon.”
“What do I say?” I met her gaze and fought to keep my voice steady. “I was such an asshole to him, and . . . I mean, even if I hadn’t been, what if his sister-in-law was right?”
“What if she wasn’t?”
I bit my lip.
“You want to spend the rest of your life wondering if you let a great guy slip through your fingers because of what someone else said to him out of anger and grief?”
Fuck if she didn’t have a point.
“Go.” She tugged me away from the door and gently turned me around to face it. “Go talk to him.”
“But I’ve got work to—”
“Honey, you’re not getting anything done until you sort your shit out with him. Go.”
I laughed. “Okay, okay. And thanks for the pep talk.”
“Anytime.”
I clocked out and headed straight for the Alehouse. I was tempted to go home and grab a shower, change clothes, eat something—basically anything to put off the inevitable. But I knew myself, and I knew if I procrastinated, I’d never go talk to him. I needed to go now while Lydia’s words were still ringing in my ears.
Outside the bar, I paused to collect myself and take a deep breath. I could do this. Even if the outcome wasn’t good, we couldn’t leave th
ings the way they’d ended the other day.
Panic and a million reasons to be anywhere but here were starting to claw their way into my brain, so before I could give them any attention, I pushed open the door and strode inside.
My gaze went right to him.
And his was right on me.
His eyes widened. Across the dim room, we stared at each other.
Well. I was here. He saw me. No turning back.
Heart thumping and nerves going apeshit, I started across the bar. If one of the lumberjack-holes at the bar was giving me the side-eye again, I didn’t notice. For all I knew, the place was empty except for me and Garrett and all the shit we needed to sort out.
I stopped in front of him. “Hey.”
He moistened his lips. “Hey.”
“Um.” I fidgeted uncomfortably. “Can we talk?”
Garrett eyed me uneasily. “Maybe we should.”
My mouth was dry. “So, uh . . .”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve got about forty-five minutes left on my shift.” He met my eyes, eyebrows up. “You’re welcome to hang here until I’m off, or I can meet you—”
“This is fine.” As if for emphasis, I pulled out a barstool and slid onto it. If I left now, there was no guarantee I’d be wherever we promised to meet up later. This was now or never.
“Okay.” He looked at me with a cautious smile. “While you’re waiting, you, um, want a Coke on the Rocks?”
I actually laughed, if a little halfheartedly. “Sure. Why not?”
He poured the drink and handed it to me, and a sinking feeling in my gut almost made me hand it right back. It was weird, sitting here in the Alehouse with that gorgeous bartender and feeling a million miles away from him. We knew each other too well for this kind of distance, especially when conversation had come so easily while we’d still been strangers. Back when we’d still had huge cards against our vests, and we’d been feeling each other out, pulled in by a magnetic attraction and scared shitless of how things might play out.
Had it really been less than a week since I’d looked in his eyes on the observation deck of the Space Needle and known without a doubt I was in love with him? How could one fight and five days put so much cold air between us after we’d been so intimate?
Garrett continued working. I sipped the Coke I didn’t really want. We didn’t talk. Didn’t exchange any banter or looks.
Finally, his shift was over. I paid for my soda, he clocked out, and we left the Alehouse in uncomfortable silence.
We didn’t go far. A block or so from the bar, away from potential eavesdroppers, we stopped under the pasty glow of a streetlight.
And surprise, surprise . . . the silence lingered. Somewhere nearby, a cricket filled in the background, emphasizing how quiet it was under this light. We needed to talk, and we’d come out here to talk, and there was so much shit we needed to talk about, but I had no idea how to start.
Garrett spoke first. “Listen, you have every right to be pissed. And I’m . . . I’ve thought about a million things to say, and it just keeps coming back to I’m sorry. That’s . . . that’s really it. I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” I swallowed. “I . . . As shell-shocked as you were after your sister-in-law’s tirade, I shouldn’t have come at you sideways. I should’ve waited before I lost it like that.”
“I don’t think I can really blame you.” He avoided my eyes. “That . . . Everything that day was a fucking mess. And I’m sorry you got caught in it and . . .” He exhaled. “Just . . . I’m sorry. For everything.”
I watched him, not sure what to say. “So where do we go from here?” There was probably more to talk about, more to pick apart and scrutinize until we’d really apologized for everything we had and hadn’t said, but I needed to know what happened next. What was the point of dissecting it all if we were just going to walk away?
He slid his hands into his pockets and stared at the pavement between us. “Is there any going back to where we were before?”
In an instant, my throat was tight and achy. God, I wanted to do exactly that—go right back to where things had been until moments after his sister-in-law had rung Fiona’s doorbell. But I didn’t know if we could. If either of us could.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never done it before.”
Garrett lifted his gaze. “Which part?”
“Any of it, to be honest. I’ve dated guys, but never someone who’s lost a partner like you lost Sean. And never . . .” I swallowed. “Never someone I felt this way about.” Moistening my lips, I shook my head. “I want to do right by you, but I won’t pretend I have a clue what I’m doing.”
“This is new for me too. I wish I could say I knew more than you about what we’re doing, but I don’t.” He gulped hard. “Maybe we can figure it out together.”
I flinched. Silence fell. And lingered.
“Talk to me,” he pleaded softly. “I don’t know what to say except that I miss you and I want you back.”
“Me too.” I wiped a hand over my face. “And it . . . it wasn’t fair for me to expect you to be over Sean. Or to hold it against you that you weren’t. The thing is, if there’s room in your heart for both of us, even if you’re not ready for something more than friendship, I still want you in my life. I’d rather have you as a friend than not at all. Playing Magic, geeking out over stuff, just hanging out—I want all of that as much as I want the sex and whatever else. I . . . God, I seriously miss you.”
“I miss you too. But as a hell of a lot more than a friend.”
My heart flipped. “Are you . . . I mean, are you in a place where . . .” I bit my lip, not sure how to proceed.
“I won’t lie. I’m not over Sean, and I may never be.” Garrett swallowed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t love you.”
It wasn’t supposed to hurt, hearing those words. Every time he’d said them so far, though, it had been like a kick in the balls. I believed he meant them. It just hurt to think he might be in love with the space I filled, not me.
I ran a hand through my hair and avoided his eyes. “What about the things your sister-in-law said?” I didn’t have to look to know he’d flinched. I swore I felt it.
“She gave me a lot to think about,” he said.
Steeling myself, I looked at him. “And?”
“And I think I’ve got a lot more grieving to do than I realized. I’m going to look into talking to a counselor. Someone who specializes in this kind of thing.” He sighed. “It’s something I probably should have done a long time ago.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” But the question lingered—where does that leave us? I was thrilled he was getting a handle on his grief, but I had no idea where my place was in his world, or if I had one at all.
Then Garrett pushed his shoulders back and looked right in my eyes. “The last time we talked, you were upset because you didn’t think you could fill Sean’s shoes.”
Jaw tight, I nodded.
“And the more I’ve thought about it the last few days, the more I’ve realized you were right. You can’t fill his shoes.”
The bluntness caught me off guard, and my breath hitched.
“You can’t,” he said again. “And if the roles were reversed, he’d never be able to fill yours.”
I blinked. “What?”
Garrett exhaled slowly. “You’re not Sean. You couldn’t be if you tried, and I don’t want you to try. I loved him, and I always will, but he’s gone.” He paused like he needed to pull himself together. “And yeah, I’m still coping with that. Apparently not as well as I thought I was, but I’m getting there.” He chewed his lip. “None of that changes the fact that I met you, though, or that I was attracted to you from day one. And it doesn’t change the fact that I fell in love with you.”
My heart skipped, but he wasn’t done.
“The fact that there are things about you guys that are similar? I don’t know. Maybe that’s why you caught my eye, but I never factored in those
similarities when I fell for you. I fell in love with the sum total of you.” He paused. “I mean, you have things in common with guys I dated before Sean too. Jackson was into comics and Magic. Miguel had taste in music that was a lot like yours. Sometimes when you laugh, you remind me of Cory.” He gestured dismissively. “It doesn’t mean you were a replacement for them any more than you’re a replacement for Sean.”
I leaned hard against the brick wall, my knees unsteady and my head spinning.
Garrett looked in my eyes. “I love you, Jesse. I love how excited you get over all that stuff you think is geeky and dorky. I love how we can’t play Magic without winding up in bed. I love . . .” He paused again. “When I look at you, I don’t see someone who can fill the void Sean left. I see someone who can fill a void I never knew was there.”
I was afraid to ask, but did anyway: “What void is that?”
He hesitated, then came a little closer and dropped his voice to nearly a whisper. “The one that was waiting for you.”
My lips parted, but no air and no voice moved between them. I just stared at him, disbelieving.
“It seems contradictory, but it’s not,” he said. “Part of me still hurts and will probably always hurt over losing Sean and not getting to spend my life with him. But the other part is thrilled and grateful that I found you, and that—” He snapped his teeth together.
I studied him. “And that . . . what?”
Garrett took a deep breath. “That there might be some chance of spending my life with you.”
I pushed myself off the wall and moved toward him. “I’d say there’s more than a chance.” Then I grabbed him, nearly bowling him over, and kissed him. Tears burned my eyes, and when he threw his arms around me and held me tighter than he ever had, a few slipped free. I didn’t care.
Garrett touched his forehead to mine as he brushed his thumb across my damp cheek. “I’m sorry about what happened in Seattle. It . . .” He sighed, warm breath gusting across my lips. “I shouldn’t have shut you out after that, and I shouldn’t have put you in that situation in the first place.”
“But you didn’t want to be alone.”