32
Tyson
Shawn tossed the yearbook onto the loveseat. “I hate to say, ‘I told you so’, but I told you so.”
I was hurting from areas I had no idea possessed pain receptors. Even my soul ached. “I’m not looking to get a fucking lecture,” I complained. “I’m here for advice.”
“I already told you. The cowgirl said she’s madder’n fuck and doesn’t want to ever see you again.”
I pressed the heels of my palms against my temples. “She won’t answer my calls, or texts. I’ve been by her house twice. I just need to explain everything to her.”
“What the fuck are you going to tell her?” he asked. “That you picked her out of the crowd, so you could fantasize about drilling your high school spank bank queen?”
I stood up and shot him a glare. “Fuck you.”
“It’s true.”
I turned toward the kitchen. “You’re an asshole.”
“Truth’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
I spun around. “Who the fuck are you to tell me how to fix a broken relationship, anyway? You bang chicks like you’re turning yourself in on Monday to start a life-long prison sentence.”
“But I tell ‘em the truth,” he said. “How many times do I have to remind you of that?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and flexed my biceps in anger. “What the fuck are you saying? That I should have told her she reminded me of Garber on the day I met her?”
“If you didn’t want this to happen, yeah.” He looked me up and down, and then shook his head. “Either that, or you never should have told her you loved her.”
“But I do love her.”
He twisted his mouth to the side and stood. “I’d say you fucked up, then. Big time.”
That was my fear. That I’d fucked up big time. Her likeness to Garber seemed so insignificant when the relationship started. Now? It seemed like I’d been a liar and a creep.
I gave him a look. “If you wouldn’t have said anything that night about the naughty fucking librarian, I could have talked my way out of this.”
“You fuckin’ prick!” He puffed his chest. “Don’t you try to spin this and make it my fault. If you had told her the truth from jump street, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You made the decision to do what you did. Be a fuckin’ man and own it.”
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right.
At the time I met Jo, I had no intention of ever falling in love. My plan was to have sex with her and walk away. How was I to know walking away wouldn’t be an option?
I sat down. “My whole body aches.”
“From what? Flexin’ your fuckin’ muscles at me? You’re lucky I like you, asshole. I ought to whip your ass.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I complained. “I need to fix this.”
He exhaled a breath through his teeth and shook his head. “Just find another chick to screw, you’ll be fine in no time.”
“You don’t get it, do you? There are no other chicks to screw. I’m done. It’s Jo, or it’s no one.”
He shrugged. “Looks like you’re going to be single, bro.”
“I can’t live without her,” I stated. “I’ve got to fix this.”
Since my father’s death, there’d been very little I cared about. My car, my memories of him, and his home. Since meeting Jo, she was all I cared about. In her absence, there was nothing else in my life that mattered.
I’d shared things with her that I hadn’t shared with anyone. I’d confided things in her I’d spend a lifetime concealing. Having her in my life caused me to admit that I was living life on a collision course with no one other than myself.
Before meeting her, I was my own worst enemy. Through her actions and innocence, she proved to me that I could trust a woman. In trusting her, I realized what a crucial part a woman plays in a man living a rich and rewarding life.
With her came a comfort that I never knew existed. In her presence, I could be me without fear of repercussion. She was kind, caring, and considerate of all those she encountered. She gave while taking nothing. I loved her easily and unconditionally. In return, she loved me equally.
Until I betrayed her trust.
I tilted my head toward the ceiling and covered my face with my hands. “Fuuuuuck!”
33
Jo
My broken soul lay at my feet. Shattered into a thousand pieces, my heart was littered along the sidewalk that led from the driveway to my parent’s front door. My trust in mankind had been cast into the Texas wind, leaving me incapable of placing so much as an ounce of faith in anyone I encountered in the future.
The little of me that remained intact came to rest at my mother’s side on the front room couch. She raked her fingertips through my hair. “Whenever you feel like talking, Josephine.”
I felt so foolish for believing that Tyson was interested in me. To think, for one moment, that it was possible showed my vulnerability when it came to mankind in general.
I exhaled an unsteady breath. “I. Hurt. So. Bad.”
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she said. “But you’ve got to tell me what happened.”
“He...”
“…lied.”
She held my head against her chest. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Hoping to find some resemblance of comfort, I pressed the side of my face against her bosom and listened to her heartbeat.
Ba-boom.
Ba-boom.
Ba-boom.
I wanted the pain to stop. My heart to heal. My soul to somehow return to its rightful place. How something that once felt so right could suddenly cripple me into a state of paralysis was hard to believe.
Nonetheless, I was incapable of something as simple as speaking.
Hoping the words came with the passing of time, I watched through the window for the next half hour as the Saturday evening sun fell against the horizon. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing sleep would come soon, during which time the day would pass.
The front door swung open. I looked up. Dressed in his normal work clothes, my father was coming in from a hard day of work in the fields.
He scanned the room and then fixed his eyes on me. “Where’s Tyson?”
“At home,” I murmured.
Upon realizing I was being held in my mother’s arms, he shifted his focus from me to her. “What going on, Jackie?”
“She and Tyson had a fight.”
“It wasn’t a fight,” I said. “We’re done. It’s over.”
“What do you mean it’s over?” His eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It sure as hell does,” he snarled.
“Daddy, it’s over,” I explained. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” He put his hands on his hips and gave me a look. “If you two got in a spat, that’s none of my damned business. You’ll have a few hundred of them before you realize they’re not worth havin’. Until then, learn to like the way they taste.”
He folded his arms over his broad chest and lowered his chin. “If he did something to hurt you, that’s a different story. I need to know which it is, so I’ll know whether to go in my bedroom and get my gun or go in the kitchen and make a sandwich.”
“John!” my mother gasped.
“Well, it’s the damned truth,” he said. “If they had a tiff, it’s not your or my business, Jackie. She needs to realize the world outside of her little bubble isn’t all butterflies, bubblegum and backgammon.”
I couldn’t believe what he’d said. My day had been horrible, and I didn’t need it to get any worse. “Don’t talk about me like I’m in the other room. I’m right here, Daddy.”
“Based on the fact you’ve said nothing,” he huffed. “I’m going to make a sandwich.”
After he left the room, I looked at my mother. “What’s his problem?”
“I’m sure part of it is that he likes Tyson,” she whispered. “I’m sure he’d just l
ike to see you two work things out.”
I sighed. “This isn’t something we’re going to be able to work out.”
“Like I said, dear. When you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.”
Enough time had passed that I was ready to talk about it, as long as I didn’t have to talk to my father. He’d already expressed his belief that I was incapable of dealing with life outside my bubble of butterflies and bubblegum.
I drew a breath and leaned against the arm of the couch. “I was looking in one of his yearbooks and I found a passage written by a friend. He made a comment about Tyson being ‘sweet’ on someone. I assumed it was a student, but when I looked her up in the book, I found out it was the librarian. And, she looks just like me. Just like me. Glasses, hair, clothes, everything.”
She looked at me as if she expected me to continue. When I didn’t, she cleared her throat and placed her hand on my knee. “Sweetheart is that what you’re upset about?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” I asked. “He’s with me because I look like her. His friend even said one night that I was the ‘sexy librarian’. I had no idea at the time what he was talking about. It all makes sense now. It makes me sick to think about it.”
“If he was sweet on the librarian when he was in school, he must have thought she was pretty. The fact you look like her could be coincidental—”
“It’s not coincidental.”
“Maybe it’s not. Tyson would have to answer that, dear.”
“I’m not willing to talk to him about it.”
“Do you think you might be overreacting?” she asked.
I straightened my posture. “Oh, so, you think I’m living in a bubble of bubblegum and unicorns, too?”
“Sweetheart, when your father and I were in high school, he told me I looked like Audrey Hepburn. He said my lips were better than hers, but he compared me to her. He even called me ‘Audrey’ sometimes.” She smiled. “I saw it as a compliment.?”
I sighed. “That’s not the same.”
“The hell it’s not!” my father bellowed from the kitchen.
I turned around. “Daddy! This is a private conversation!”
Carrying a plate with a half-eaten sandwich in it, he stepped through the threshold of the door and paused.
“No,” he said. “It’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You’re my daughter,” he said in a stern tone. “It’s my responsibility to tell you when I see that you’re making a mistake. That’s what parents do. And, right now, you’re making a mistake.”
“You’re a man,” I complained. “Of course, you’re going to see it his way.”
He sat on the loveseat and set his plate on the end table. “He had the hots for the high school librarian. Fifteen years later, he met you. You guys dated for a few months and you fell in love. You found out you look like the librarian. Maybe he has a thing for pretty girls with big butts and black glasses, who knows?”
“John. Wallace. Watson!” my mother screeched.
He glared. “What?”
She forced a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe you, sometimes. How could you say such a thing? She doesn’t have a big butt.”
His glare lingered for a moment, and then he looked away. “Sometimes I feel like a man can’t win. It seems women never understand when a compliment is given. Everything’s an insult.”
I’d heard enough. I was exhausted, my muscles ached, my eyes were swollen, and I needed some rest.
“I need to sleep on it.” I stood. “I’m going to my room.”
“Your room is filled with your mother’s crap.”
“I’m going in there anyway.”
“One question before you go,” he said.
“What?” I huffed.
“Do you trust him?”
Before I responded, he corrected himself. “Did you trust him before this happened?”
I hated to admit it, but I did. Wholeheartedly. I nodded. “Yes, I did.”
“If you trusted him, you’re either gullible as hell or he’s a trustworthy man. While you’re laying in that mess of a bedroom tonight, why don’t you ask yourself which one it is.” He reached for his sandwich. “Goodnight, Kidd-o.”
34
Tyson
In my mind, the solution was simple.
Provide a detailed description of everything, stopping along the way to apologize any time Jo’s eyebrows raised in wonder. Knowing neither life – nor women – were that easy, I opted to heed the shared advice of my brutally honest best friend and an orange-haired shopping mall jewelry clerk.
Just in case.
I drew a breath, paused, and then pressed the doorbell.
The door opened. John’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
I gazed beyond him. From what I could see, the room was empty. “What do you mean?” I whispered.
“She’s as stubborn as a mule, operatin’ on about two hours sleep, and nuttier than a squirrel turd when it comes to understandin’ men. Hell, the day’s damned near shot to hell, and she’s still wearin’ the pajamas her mother gave her.” He nodded toward my hand. “Those flowers might not hurt matters, though.”
“Can I come in?”
He stepped to the side. “Sorry. I haven’t got my wits about me this afternoon. It was a long night.”
Jo stepped into the doorway that led into the living room. Wearing a pair of green and red plaid pajamas that were three sizes too small, she looked like utter hell. She glanced at the flowers I held, and then looked at me.
“What are you doing here?”
“Five minutes,” I said. “That’s all I want. Five minutes to explain. When I get done, you can either let me join you for dinner, or ask me to leave.”
She twisted her wild hair into a bun and nodded toward the loveseat. “Okay.”
John gestured to the couch. “Mind if I—”
“Yes, I do,” she said, stepping aside as she spoke. “Go help Mother, please.”
“Fine.” He reached for the vase of flowers I held. “May I?”
I doubted Jo would accept them. I gave him a nod of appreciation. “Sure.”
Flowers in hand, he stomped in Jo’s direction, pausing as he reached her. “Man’s got taste,” he said, eyeing the flowers. “It’s not every day you see an arrangement with hyacinth, jasmine, and lilies. A simpleton would have brought roses.”
Jo’s eyes followed the vase of flowers as he walked past her. After he was gone, she sat at the couch and fixed her eyes on the floor between us.
I sat across the room from her. “I saw Miss Garber as beautiful, because she was beautiful. Anyone that met her would agree. Every boy in school had a crush on her. It just so happened that you read one of many comments that were written in a yearbook that I made no effort to hide from you, because I have nothing to hide from you.” I cleared my throat. “For the sake of clarification, she and I never shared one physical moment together.”
Her pursed lips parted slightly. “Okay…”
“The similarities you share with Miss Garber are merely coincidental. Did I think you looked like her when I met you? Absolutely. Is that why we’re together? Absolutely not. At first, I thought you’d be like every other girl in my life. We’d hang out for a while, we’d have sex, and then we’d go our separate ways. That was my modus operandi. That is, until you.”
“From the moment my father died until the moment I realized I loved you, all I’ve done is exist. After realizing I loved you, I opened my eyes to the world around me and began living life for the first time. I now have an unobstructed view of the world, of you, and of our future. I want different things out of life since realizing I love you.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“A different job. A new pair of boots. Sunday dinners. Marriage. An opportunity to prove to my children that a relationship can last a lifetime. I guess when you get right down to it, I want to start living a life that I’m sharing with yo
u.”
She pulled a strand of hair from her bun and began twisting it around her finger. “When did you realize you loved me?”
“Remember when I said we needed to begin and end with a kiss?”
She smiled. “I do.”
“It was then,” I said. “At that exact minute, I think.”
Her gaze fell to her feet. After a moment, she looked up. “I’m sorry about what happened. I think I may have overreacted when I saw that stuff in your yearbook.”
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t one hundred percent truthful with you from the start,” I replied. “Am I forgiven?”
She stopped twisting her hair. “Am I?”
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
“So are you.” She stood and opened her arms. “Let’s start over.”
I stepped in her direction. “With a kiss.”
We met in the middle of the room and embraced in a kiss. I closed my eyes and inhaled her sweet scent. My mind, as it did every time I kissed her, escaped me. When I held her in my arms, I had no comprehension of the passing of time or my surroundings.
Before I was satisfied that the kiss should end, a flicker of light began to flash repeatedly beyond my closed eyelids. Wondering if I, too, was becoming nuttier than a squirrel turd, I opened my eyes.
Behind Jo, just inside the doorframe, a weathered hand was flipping the light switch on and off at a rapid rate. I broke our embrace and grinned.
She opened her eyes.
The lights continued to flicker on and off.
Jo sighed. “Daddy, stop it.”
“We need to eat before the food’s cold,” John said. “You two can swap spit when we’re done.”
I gave Jo a quick peck and turned toward the kitchen. As we reached John, he stepped aside and allowed Jo to walk past. He then raised his hand to my shoulder. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay,” she said.
He patted me on the back. “You did good, Son.”
The Fed Sex Man: Hot Contemporary Romance Page 21