The sound of the door slamming behind Jax ricocheted through Rome’s apartment.
I almost screamed. He infuriated me so much that I wanted to text Rome to come home and screw me in his bed where Jax wouldn’t. I trudged back to my apartment so tired of following rules and fitting myself into the stupid box I imagined my father must have somehow psychologically built for me.
When I opened the door to our apartment and saw Katie sitting to the left on the living room couch with wine in both her hands, I sighed.
“I figured we could start with the wine and move to something stronger if needed.”
I closed the door behind me and leaned into it. “How’d you know I’d be home?”
“After I stiletto stomped his ass and insinuated that you were sleeping with Rome, I figured he would be heading next door. When I didn’t hear a fight break out, I was pretty disappointed.”
I scoffed.
“What? Like Rome and Jax fighting wouldn’t be epic?” She waved off her question. “Anyway, Rome texted me that you might be back and you might not. I figured Jax is a dick and you’d be back.”
I grabbed a glass from her and joined her on the couch. “I just want him to tell me why he continues to go. What is it they could possibly be discussing after all these years when they never had anything to discuss before?”
“Nothing, Brey,” she replied casually as she took the remote and started surfing through channels. “We’ve gone over this again and again. People are just fucked in the head when they lead a cushy life and get thrown into a fucked-up situation. Maybe he has guilt, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just psychotic. Who cares? It doesn’t matter.”
I slumped into the couch, knowing I needed one of her reality checks. “Tell me why it doesn’t matter again?”
“Because he should have bucked the hell up and chose you. He should have told you why he was going or stopped fucking going. He did neither. Instead, he left you high and dry. So, fuck him.”
I gulped my wine. “Ugh. You are right. I know you are so right.”
She stopped channel surfing and turned to smile at me. “I know I am, but you are too damn nice, and you love too damn hard to listen to me. So, I’ll say this only once, and I’ll never repeat it again.”
I squinted a little at her, wondering what my best friend could possibly say that she hadn’t said in all these years.
“Shit.” She looked disgusted with herself as she launched off the couch. “I need something stronger than wine if I am going to say this.”
“Should I have something stronger too?” My question sounded meek.
She jumped up on the counter to dig in the cabinets and grabbed the long lost Macallan that I hadn’t touched in weeks. After hopping down and pouring four shots, she looked up at me. Her dark eyes held no humor and were all business when she said, “Come drink up. You’re going to need it.”
I hesitated, not sure I needed to hear what she was going to say.
Katie was my best friend, the one who’d always stuck by my side. Her compass needle pointed directly to making me happy and the other end of the needle was the total bitch who protected that happiness.
If she was going to say something I couldn’t handle, I needed more than two shots of liquor.
I downed the first one with her without saying another word.
She nodded at the next two shots and we downed those also.
I breathed out the burn of it and let it travel down into my stomach. I sighed. “Maybe another?”
She nodded and poured, “God, I hate this whiskey, you know that?”
Her admission surprised me. “You always used to drink it with me.”
“I drank it with you because every time you brought it out, I knew something was wrong. It’s like the punishment drink.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth. “Maybe.”
“Remember when you told me your dad drank only this?” She held up the bottle.
I nodded.
“It’s some real circle-of-angry life shit to drink it too, when you’re mad at the world.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I get lost sometimes and it … I don’t know … it helps bring me back and get even more lost at the same time.”
Her brow furrowed as if she didn’t understand.
“We all deal with our pasts differently, Katie. For example, you blaze through life like this is it and shit just happens to everyone for no reason. Someone could run over me with a car tomorrow and you’d probably shrug your shoulders, agree that it sucks, give me a kick-ass funeral and move on. You don’t dwell. At. All.”
Katie looked a little wide-eyed, like she didn’t exactly enjoy my perception of her. “I dwell sometimes.”
I laughed at the fact that she didn’t deny she’d move on quickly from my death. “You’ve been in countless relationships, and I don’t even keep track of them anymore because you’re never hurt when they end or happy when they begin.”
“Well …” She shrugged like my neglect as a friend didn’t matter. “I don’t care about those relationships. They provide me something and I provide them something. When they want more or less, we end it. There’s no reason to dwell on them. Quite frankly, there’s no reason to dwell on a lot of shit.”
I sighed because I hated that she put herself in those relationships. Most men she was with had money and were old enough to be her father, but it wasn’t my place to judge her when I dealt with my demons in a way she didn’t necessarily approve of. “It’s what I love about you. You know that. But it’s also what people hate about you.”
She shrugged. “Whatever you say, honey. I’m still not sure what this has to do with the bottle of whiskey I’m holding.”
I sighed. “My dad controlled everything in my family. I was too young to drink and he never let my mom touch the liquor cabinet. When I think of him locked up, not able to drink, and me free, completely able to drink his favorite whiskey whenever I want, I get a sick sort of pleasure from it. Then, I’m indulging in it and the smell brings back these awful memories and I get angry. So angry.”
Katie waited, letting me work it all out.
I continued. “I start to lose myself in it. I drink and lose control, you know … whatever. But he always had the control. It was his to lose, not mine. So, even in that way, I’m happy about it.”
Katie was nodding and smirking a little. “You’re even more fucked up than me.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s so rude.”
“Whatev.” She nodded to the next shot. “Bottoms up, you sick bitch.”
I downed the shot and winced.
“Okay, we are done now, for real.” She shuddered, trying to shake off the burn. “Hopefully, what I have to say, you will just forget tomorrow, anyway.”
“Ha, probably not after this type of build up.” I hiccupped a little.
“He’s a dick, always has been and always will be. That’s my main point, always, okay?”
“Okay?” I dragged out the syllables, trying to figure out what she was trying to say before she said it.
“And he’s probably psychotic or sociopathic or something.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I’m not kidding you, Brey.” She shoved away from the counter and went to turn off the TV to busy herself. “Have you ever watched the way he stares at people. Like he’s reading them, calculating them. It’s fucking creepy.”
I shrugged. I knew exactly what she meant, except I thought it was hot.
“Okay, fine. We all know he’s hot, so the way he studies you can be too, but it’s still creepy. Especially considering that every time he does it, he knows exactly what to say to get what he wants from you. He reads everyone right.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Not us.”
She fist pumped in the air, probably because she was pretty much drunk at this point. “Damn right, not us.” Then she winced. “Kinda.”
“What do you mean ‘kinda’?” I walked over to the couch where she stood and plopped down into it when she did.
“Well, he pretty much reads me right all the time.”
“No, he doesn’t!” I retorted. “You snap at him every time he says something to you.”
She sighed and slumped into the couch. “That’s the thing. I think he meets me toe-to-toe on purpose. He lets me snap at him, but never really takes the bait. I see him testing me, making sure I’m still ready to bite his head off because of what he did to you, and he likes it.”
I scrunched up my face, confused.
“It sounds stupid, I know, which is why I’ll never repeat this, but I know I’m right. He’s testing me to make sure I’m being your best friend and busting his balls still. And it kinda makes me not hate him.”
I felt my eyes widen.
She must have seen them too. “Only a little! I only don’t hate him a little!”
“What?” I practically yelled.
“I know.” She put her hands up to her face. “I still think you should boot his ass out of your life but …”
“But what?”
Her hands fell to her lap and her eyes bored into mine. “Maybe you should boot him after you give him a shot to make it right.”
I didn’t realize how much her opinion of Jax really meant until that moment. She was the last one on the seesaw with me, shifting toward not giving him another chance. My world that had been so stable, so level and smooth, shifted. I gripped the armrest of the couch as if trying to find my balance.
“You can’t be serious,” I wheezed.
Katie never looked apologetic, so when I saw that exact look in her eye, I almost screamed. “You told me this whole time he wasn’t worth anything!”
“He’s not,” she placated softly.
Katie didn’t use a soft voice or try to calm anyone. That only made the world shift under me more.
“Oh, shut up,” I blurted before my hand flew over my face as her eyes bulged. “Oh, my gosh. I didn’t mean …”
She cut me off. “Yes, you did.” Her accusation came out with a smile.
“Katie, no I didn’t. That’s so rude. You’re my best friend and I don’t ever want you to not …”
“Exactly.” She poked her finger into my shoulder. “I’m your best friend and you’re mine. You can be rude to me, Brey. God knows you aren’t rude to anyone else.”
I rolled my eyes a little. “I think the alcohol is getting to me because I sort of want to call you a few names at this point too.”
Katie sunk into the couch and started laughing. I chuckled a little. “Let’s be honest, okay? Just fuck Jax’s brains out and see what happens. Maybe it’ll work it out, maybe it won’t. Either way, you’ll get answers.”
I elbowed her. “I don’t just want to hook up with him. I need closure or answers or I don’t know.”
She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “But you do totally want to hook up with him along with all those things, right?”
“Ugh.” I put my face into my hands. “I want to screw him so bad.”
She cackled when I finally admitted it.
I let her have the laugh while I looked up at the ceiling, trying to squelch the desire I had to call him right then and find a way to be with him. I wanted his hands on me again. I wanted his lips grazing my neck. I wanted the taste of mint … and him.
I shuddered thinking about it.
I didn’t feel centered without him and that scared me.
Katie nudged me. “Tell me what’s going on.”
So, I told her. I told her everything from the summer I loved him until now. I told her how he walked away tonight and how I didn’t know if I could do what he asked.
“Can I just sleep with him and try to figure it out?”
Clearing her throat and reaching for more wine, she said, “I doubt it.”
I winced a little. “I know.”
“No. You don’t know. You’re stronger than you think, girl. I don’t doubt that you can handle it. I know you can. I doubt that you can walk away without caring. You can’t detach from your emotions like that. Most people can’t.”
I nodded. “So, how do I avoid caring? Teach me.”
She laughed again, her colorful hair swaying with her shaking her head. “Brey, you can’t learn that. I’m detached because it’s all I’ve ever known. It’s also what I want. My detachment is my survival. Your love is yours. You love. I don’t. And it’s okay to love. It’s why we balance each other so well.”
“What?” I whispered.
“You only got to where you are because you loved your momma so much. You and your dad would have killed each other much earlier if it hadn’t been for that love. When she passed, you shifted your love to the Stonewoods. Now, you love all of us.”
I cocked my head. “Huh. I think we’ve had way too much to drink because you’re kind of making sense.”
“I know, right? I’m a fucking genius psychologist when I’ve had enough whiskey.”
The night regressed into nonsense after that.
The next morning, my phone went off like a siren, so loud and jarring I wasn’t sure which direction it was coming from. When I shot out of bed to turn it off, my whole body swayed in excruciating pain.
Hungover didn’t begin to describe what I felt.
I swiped the screen automatically, just needing the sound to stop. “Hello?” I croaked.
“You’re not outside,” Jax said matter-of-factly.
“What?” I tried to play catch-up.
“Are you asleep?” He sounded surprised and a little disgusted.
“I was,” I retorted back, wincing because I should have been whispering. Any sound louder than a whisper wasn’t helping.
“Well, let’s go. I don’t have all day.”
Did he sound pissy or was it just me?
“I can’t go today, Jax.”
“We go every Monday, Whitfield.”
“Not today,” I stated with finality.
“Why?” He breathed the question with an edge.
“Because I don’t feel up to it.” I didn’t owe him an explanation. He ran with me. Half the time we ran, we didn’t talk anyway. I never called him to run either. He just showed up. It was my time that he invaded and pushed himself into like everything else in my life.
“Is this about last night?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Hmm.” He waited a beat. “Then humor me.”
I sighed. The way he said those two words all the time, like we didn’t have all the history in the world to worry about. Like our feelings weren’t involved and this was just another day.
He thought I could handle it all and anything together. Like I should just listen to him because he knew best.
No part of me wanted to admit that maybe he did know best, or maybe he knew me as well as I knew myself.
So, I hung up on him and threw on a sports bra and yoga pants.
I piled my wavy hair into a messy bun and started to tie my shoes. Katie popped up from the couch. “What in the actual fuck are you doing?” she croaked.
“Going for a run, apparently,” I said more to my shoes than her.
“What?” She shook her head like her own voice was too loud for her. Then she whispered, “I seriously feel like a boulder rolled over me. Indiana Jones’s boulder.” She groaned and threw her arm over her face as she plopped back down on the couch. “You are a masochist, you know that?”
I didn’t reply because she was more right about that now than ever before.
The sun blinded me when I stepped outside. The hot, humid air reminded me that summer in the Midwest packed a punch every single day. Winter would come and steal most of the year. So of course, summer had to make a mark.
Today, it made the mark of pure, unforgiving heat.
Instead of talking to him and trying to figure out what the hell we were doing, I started my jog immediately.
I thought I heard him sigh before he fell into step behind me like always.
Each step I took at first, felt like a hammer to the head.
The feeling reminded me of a time not too long ago when I’d drink way more than I should have without anyone around.
I ran harder, wanting to feel physical pain rather than the emotional pain I was in because of him and my father.
All because of them.
I pushed harder as I corrected myself. It wasn’t just because of them. I was unhappy with myself.
Unhappy with my life.
How had I gotten there?
Katie was right. I loved my friends, but what else did I love?
I avoided everything that I could get attached to. I let my room go unpainted and undecorated, avoiding anything of meaning for years.
I avoided relationships by attaching myself to Rome.
I sidestepped attention by dressing plainly and falling back into the shadows.
I’d succeeded in making myself unhappy. It was me. Not him. Not my father.
Not anyone else.
I ran to try to escape myself, hating that I’d somehow built something all on my own that I couldn’t stand. I had the control, and maybe I’d always had the control, to make my life better, but I couldn’t see past the misery I’d inflicted on myself to do something about it.
When I tried to push myself even harder, I was jerked back by him, grabbing my elbow and bringing me to a halt.
“Whitfield, slow the fuck down or you’ll end up …”
Before he could finish, I bent over and vomited all over the sidewalk.
