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The answer isn’t one I want, and I refrain from letting my anger take control. “For what it’s worth…” I grab my bag, sighing at the whole conversation that just took place. “He’s a fool for leaving you. He wasn’t strong. If he truly wanted those things with you, he would have made it happen.” I shake my head, wondering how anyone who loves someone the way she’s describing, could just leave.
But she doesn’t answer me, and I take that as my cue to leave.
The ride home is quiet, thanks to Paulie reading my mood, but the talk with my mother keeps swirling around and around in my head. I went in for answers, but I came back out with more questions.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“I write best when I am either falling in love or falling apart.”
-Rudy Francisco
Warren
Life is funny. Not in that “ha ha this is comedy gold” funny, but in the “isn’t that ironic” kind of way. As I stare at the large portrait of CT, the one I’ve spent every spare hour working on, I wonder if all of it will be worth it someday.
Don’t get me wrong, I would never give up art. It’s a part of me, part of my soul.
But without the woman who makes my heart beat stronger… I find myself wondering if any of it is worth it.
I shake my head at the ridiculous thoughts. This is poetry gold; I really should sit down and write these thoughts out.
I’ve been avoiding having a serious conversation with her, keeping things light. And the only time we see each other is briefly at work and briefly when she stops by after work. She never stays the night and I bite my tongue when I want to ask. But I feel something coming, some bullshit is churning in my gut, making me want to puke when I think about it. About us.
She’s done a lot to mitigate the damage Jasper and her mother made. As far as I know though, her mom is still trying to push this.
Jane called me last night and told me a little about what her mom said, something about how Jane would someday leave me for work. I wanted to argue, wanted to say we were stronger than that, but lately, it hasn’t felt that way.
I’m a fucking hypocrite though. I’ve been working more than she has.
But I haven’t put others’ needs ahead of hers, haven’t let anyone control us… except her mother.
Fuck.
I run a hand over my head, stress eating me alive.
“Whoa,” a voice interrupts my inner ramblings and I turn in surprise, finding CT in the doorway is even more surprising. “Holy…” He steps toward the drawing of him and whistles. “Damn. I look good.” He smirks.
I chuckle at the comment and shrug. “Eh, you’re alright.”
“Fuck off.” He slugs my shoulder and glances around the rest of the room. It’s not the only work that’s gotten done lately and I still have the originals of Jane and my mother, ready to go. “Dude. You’ve… improved.”
I laugh outright, tension easing out of my shoulders. “Since trees and mountain drawings in sixth grade? I fucking hope so.” I turn to him. “How’d you get in here?”
“Door was open. No one answered when I knocked but I texted Derek to let him know I was coming and he said to let myself in.” He motions over his shoulder with a thumb and I follow him out of the room, we go into the kitchen where I grab two beers and offer him one. “Thanks.” He takes a swallow.
I follow suit and ask, “What brings you to town?”
“Gotta couple horses I’m looking at this weekend, figured I’d stop by first before they were in the trailer.”
“You navigated a trailer downtown?”
He cocks a brow. “I’m a fucking pro at driving my rig. Don’t doubt me.”
I raise a hand. “Never would, Mighty Trailer Navigator.”
“Fuck off. Again.” He takes another sip of beer as the front door slams closed.
“Honey, I’m home!” Derek and Archer round the corner into the kitchen and we all exchange greetings. Derek rubs CT’s head good-naturedly and gives him a hug. “Fuck, it’s almost as good as hugging Graham.” Then, to be a fucking creep, he whispers. “Almost.”
