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I am alone.
Something inside of me breaks, like a levee opening and every single tear I had dammed up inside of me is let loose. My breath shudders and my chest aches as I cry. The fibers of these jeans hold the remnants of a past I don’t want to deal with.
After all of these years, why have these jeans resurfaced now?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Go to Him
I STAND AT the back of the club just beyond the melee, but I can still see him. Even if I couldn’t, I would still know it’s him. The familiar sound of a Fender seeps through my skin and buries itself into my veins. It’s like a rush of drugs bringing me to life. I can feel something awaken inside of me, like the beating of wings trying to push through.
I remember everything in the span of a second, as if my life is flashing before my eyes. It’s Jack in the snow, his grip on my leg, the beach and the stage, the two of us together. Always together.
Not only do I see it, but I feel everything.
I shouldn’t be here, I know this. But when do I ever do as I’m told?
I’m chasing after something I can’t have, and it’s torture. What I want is to dip my toe into the darkness, but hold onto the light, and I know it’s impossible to have both.
I feel like a ghost lately, going through the motions of my life.
But right now, I feel tangible, a solid object in a sea of people.
I watch him walk the stage, sweat dripping down his forehead, his mouth close to the microphone. It’s that smile, those eyes, and that voice, that puts me under a spell.
I know I shouldn’t be here, but something inside of me will always be drawn to him. Finding the jeans was like a sign that maybe it was time I saw him. I will never be able to wash him out of my system. There’s no shower that could wipe me clean of him.
My heart thrums with each beat, an eclectic current shocking me back to life.
The song ends and Jack stands on the stage, wiping the sweat from his face with the bottom of his shirt, causing the level of female screams to escalate. His shirt clings to his chest and his jeans sit low on his waist. He looks worn and tired, as if he hasn’t been sleeping. I know how hard the road is on the body and the mind. I don’t think Jack has stopped since we left each other that night in the club. He’s working himself to death.
I wonder if he still thinks of me.
I wonder how many women he’s fucked since me.
Does he see me when he’s with them?
Someone bumps into me and I hear my name. Before I can see who it is, I turn around and exit the club.
“WHERE HAVE YOU been?” Cash asks as soon as I come in the door.
He’s sitting in the dark living room; only the light from the TV illuminates his face. He looks tired and sad. I hate that I am the cause of it.
I don’t want to lie to him, but I don’t want to tell him the truth either.
I walk past him and put my purse on the table. I kick off my shoes as I watch him.
“You went to see him, didn’t you?” he asks in a calm voice. Maybe he can smell the club on me, or maybe he can sense the shift in me, but either way, he knows.
“Yes,” I answer him truthfully.
Cash sighs heavily. He crosses his ankle over his thigh and drops his head in his hands. I wish I could be the person to comfort him instead of the one who causes his pain.
“What’s happening to us?” he asks.
I move to the side of his chair and he lets me run my hands through his hair. I wanted for a moment to be the one to take care of him instead of the other way around. My fingers linger in his hair and he leans into my touch. I feel this ache in my heart for him, a deep crack that just keeps getting bigger and bigger.
He pulls me down into his lap and rests his head against my chest. I can feel his body sigh as if my closeness gives him the air he needs to breathe. He doesn’t seem angry, in fact, he seems calm, as if he expected this from me. I don’t know which is worse.
