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Sundays are always one of my off days. The library is closed to the public, so it doesn’t usually bother me to stay at the bar late on Saturday nights because I know I can sleep in. Yet, for some reason, I wake up just after seven and can’t fall back asleep. My mind is racing still trying to make sense of what happened last night.
I’m so mad at Jay for how he treated me, but somehow I made it through the entire confrontation with him without shrinking away. I’m not afraid of him like I am with others.
Am I stronger than I thought? Or, is he just an outlier?
My wrist is throbbing as I pull on my favorite green athletic leggings and matching sports bra, needing the distraction that my runs normally bring. I’ve been running since the first attack happened. The one that changed my life forever.
My therapist suggested it as a coping mechanism to feel more in control of my physical body. It didn’t fix me, but the habit became a hobby, and now I average about four miles a day if I can.
I drag myself outside and sit down on the porch steps to put my shoes on, needing the cool morning air to wake me up a little more, when I see the familiar faded blue truck and its sleeping occupant parked on the curb. The initial spark of joy is quickly replaced by confusion.
Before I can think better of it, I stomp down the sidewalk and bang on his passenger-side window. He startles, reaching to his waistband reflexively before noticing me. He takes a deep breath, wiping the sleep from his face.
It takes all my willpower to maintain my level of annoyance and not to feel guilty for scaring him. I also don’t want to analyze how he almost pulled his gun on me.
He leans over, unlocking his passenger door so I can open it. And, I do, flinging it open wide. “Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t sleep at the motel. I was too worried about you. I thought if I came here I could at least get a few hours of sleep knowing you were close by.” He looks tired, dejected even. I don’t understand the hot and cold behavior, I can’t make sense of it.
“But… Why? I don’t understand what’s going on. Wanting to be near me one minute and then ignoring me another. Is it a game to you? Why are you doing this to me?”
“It’s not a game. I promise. It’s… complicated.” He hangs his head, staring at his steering wheel like it will swallow him whole, and I hate how it makes me feel.
I want to comfort him, to help him through whatever is causing him so much turmoil, but I can’t. For my peace of mind, I need to choose myself first.
“I want you to leave me alone. Don’t come back here. Don’t pretend to be my friend. I need you to leave,” I say with as much strength as I can, feeling feeble on the inside. Especially when he looks at me with his sad eyes, I can’t stop the moisture that gathers in my own.
I’ve never been a strong-willed person, I cry easily. I feel everything whether I want to or not. My therapist said I’m an empath. My best friend calls me sappy.
I hardly know Jay, but I feel like I know his emotions. Sadness, regret, helplessness. All emotions that have dictated my life. All I can do is give him a choice. Let his life be dictated by his reasons or make a new path. So, whether he deserves it or not, I give him one more chance, but on my terms.
“I’m going inside now. If you want to explain yourself, you can come in, but only if you give me the truth. If not, leave and don’t come back.” After closing his door, I turn, walking back up the sidewalk, up the steps, and onto the porch.
Taking a deep breath, I open my front door and walk through it before I check to see Jay’s decision. He’s still sitting in his truck, tapping his thumb on the top of the steering wheel.
Standing in the threshold of my home, it feels like a pivotal point in my life is taking place. Yet, I’m not the one in control of it. How did I let this happen?
How can he have so much significance in my life already?
My hand is on the door handle and about to push it closed, shutting him out forever when I hear the heavy truck door creak open.
He moves slowly toward my house like he’s dragging resistance behind him, not quite sure of his decision. Whatever the reason, I don’t want him to regret this. I stand in the doorway, blocking his path, waiting for him to change his mind.
“Once you walk through this door. Only the truth,” I remind him, stepping back to let him through if he chooses. I hold my breath until he does, my heart pounding against my rib cage.
Chapter Fifteen
Jesse
The first real choice I ever got to make in life was to join the Army, but from then on they made most of my choices for me. I got to throw my hat in the ring every once in a while, give preferences, and make small decisions, but for the most part, let the military control my life. It was easy, until now.
There have always been risks in my career. Judgment calls that I’ve needed to make. None of them amount to the risk that I’m taking now.
I have a responsibility to the United States to keep their secrets. I made an oath to obey and protect. That’s why I’m here, in New Hope. So, how can I risk it? This operation, my career…
How can I risk a relationship with the only person who’s ever been like a brother to me?
Walking through this door means potentially blowing up the only family I have. When Nathan finds out that I’ve been lying to his sister, or maybe worse, that I’m interested in his sister and lying to her at the same time, he’s going to give his loyalty to his real family. Her.
