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He gets behind the wheel, still annoyingly quiet.
“Is this why you don’t do relationships?” I ask. “Your communication skills deteriorate with time?”
He blinks slowly, then reaches to turn the key. He shifts the truck into reverse, backs out, and starts driving without another word.
I unfold my arms just so I can fold them again with annoyance. “This is great. Good talk, Jesse.”
“You’re acting like I didn’t warn you about all of this,” he says quietly after we’ve been driving a while.
“What?”
“I tried to tell you. I’m not… ready. It’s why I didn’t want you to think this was going to be something real. It’s just sex. Can’t it just be that? Sex between friends because we’re both attracted to each other. I don’t want complicated.”
I chew the inside of my mouth. Several things pop into my head. I want to say all of them, but I run them through my mental crazy checker and decide all I can do is keep my mouth shut. I can’t complain because he’s completely right. He warned me. He tried so many different ways to tell me there are no strings. And here I am, proving I am totally and utterly unable to do “no strings”.
So much time has passed that the moment is gone, but I speak anyway. “Yeah. Complicated is overrated.”
He side-eyes me, but says nothing.
30
JESSE
Andi is curled up on the couch in the living room with a paperback. It’s something by Terry Pratchet, but I can’t read the title from where I am in the kitchen.
“Beer?” I ask.
She lifts her eyes from the book. “Is this kind of like your code for when you want to get feisty? You offer me alcohol?”
I hang my head, shake it, and then close the fridge. I walk over and set two beers down in front of her and two in front of me. “This isn’t easy for me.” I take a spot on the couch adjacent to the big one where she’s laying. Her head is facing me and she has changed into a white shirt with no bra and pajama bottoms. It’s… highly distracting.
“It’s hard because of her? Because of Sarah?” She sets the book down and rolls to her side and props a few pillows under her head so she can look my way.
I recognize the cover now. It’s The Carpet People, by Terry Pratchet. Good choice. When I’m not injured, I make my way through a metric shit-ton of books. Playing in the NHL is short bursts of high intensity fun punctuated by a lot of traveling and boring periods of waiting. Reading books has always been my preferred method of passing the time. About two seasons ago, I think I made my way through the entire Terry Pratchet collection.
“Jesse?” Andi asks. “You’re doing that thing you do when she comes up. It’s like you go somewhere behind your eyes. Jesse’s body is there, but you go somewhere else.”
“Yeah.” I don’t bother arguing. “I made a few promises to myself after Sarah. When I promise myself something, I take it very seriously.”
She sits up, folding her legs beneath her. “Are those promises also secrets?”
I open my mouth to say yes. But there’s really no reason I can’t tell her, is there? Maybe it’s uncomfortable, but maybe it would help her understand, too.
I take a steadying breath and sink a little deeper into the chair, folding my arms over myself. “I swore I wouldn’t open up again like I did with her. Letting people in… it just gives them access to all your vulnerable parts. It lets them hurt you.”
Andi’s mouth turns down at the corners. I can see her sympathy is almost overwhelming, even though I feel like I barely said anything worth saying. “I get that,” she says.
“You get it?” I laugh with disbelief. “For some reason, I thought you were going to launch into a debate about why I have the wrong idea. Or you’d tell me to open up with you because you’ll be different.”
“Well that wouldn’t really make sense. I think you open up with someone when you feel ready. If you don’t feel ready to open up, then it’s not time. Right?”
I study her. Does she know what she’s doing? Does she know how hard it is for me not to spill everything on my mind every time I’m around her? She can’t possibly.
I nod carefully. “Right.”
“And I’m sorry somebody made you feel that way.” She says the words with so much care that I know she isn’t just bullshitting me. She really feels that sorrow for me. I have to admit it’s touching–if I was the kind of guy who got touched by shit like that, I mean.
“Come here,” Andi says, smiling suddenly. “Come to Mama. Cuddle me up.”
