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I call James as soon as I’m at my car. “I’m taking the mission,” I tell him. He shouts with joy, but calms down fast when he hears the resignation in my voice.
“What’s happening, bud?” he asks.
“I’m coming over,” I tell him, not recognizing my own voice. I’m in such a void right now. It’s terrible.
“Okay, I’ll have the light on and a cold beer waiting,” he says.
I hang up the phone, climb into my car, and start the long drive to James’s place. I don’t realize until I’m nearly there I still haven’t contacted the actual man who needs an answer. I don’t know what that means, then again I don’t know what the hell anything means right now.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jasmine
I’m positively miserable. Hunter turned down the job. He shouldn’t have done that. He was so torn up about it, and I hate that he had to make that decision. I’ve refused to allow him to come back. He can still change his mind. Mark told me the mission doesn’t begin for two more days. He could get back on. I figure if I don’t let him in, he might not blow up a career he obviously loves.
He’s done so much for me already. I don’t want him to make any more sacrifices. Sure, we talked about living our dreams, but he was really torn up about the FBI. I’m well aware I’m a class five hurricane and have ripped up his entire life. I’m trying to do the right thing. But doing the right thing feels like utter hell.
Knowing he’s in Miami, that he’s so close to me, but not with me, kills me. Ember’s been trying to keep me positive and happy, but we’re both aware that all of my smiles are fake, and I’m eating five times the ice cream I normally eat; my normal amount is ten times as much as most normal people. My pants are a little tight so I might’ve found that five pounds the doctor was worried about. Who knew ice cream was the answer? Well, probably every American in the world.
It’s good that we’re apart. We both need to process our emotions, figure out exactly what we want. If we live in our bubble forever, how will we know if we made the right decisions? Damn, this is tough. I see Hunter’s hurt in his messages left for me, in the texts he sends. It kills me not to respond. I have to do this for both of us. Ember’s not as strong as I am, she keeps him informed that I’m fine.
I won’t admit it, but I’m glad she’s talking to him and assuring him I’m fine. I don’t want him to be worried. I want him happy and healthy. I want him with me because he can’t live without me. I don’t want him to stay because he’s obligated. If I’m honest, I know he loves me and he’s here for me, but I don’t want him giving up his dreams for me. Love shouldn’t take a person down, it should lift them higher.
This time apart is good for both of us. We’ve never truly been tested. The problem with being apart is I’m questioning my path in life, questioning what I should be doing next. I’m so lost and unsure of myself lately. I don’t like this one little bit. From the time I was about five years old I’ve always known what I wanted, and I’ve gone after every single thing, eventually mastering it.
Right now, though, the future seems to be getting further out of my reach, looming behind a thick curtain of fog I can’t see my way through. This is scarier than anything else.
I keep trying to convince myself that our time apart is good. It’s definitely a time for soul searching. I also tell myself not to cry, that everything will be okay in the end. We’ll either get back together... or we won’t. Either way we’ll both be fine. It doesn’t matter how many times I preach this to myself, though, it hurts when I think of the possibility of never lying in his arms again. That isn’t a viable option. It would be like losing one of my limbs.
“Hey, what are you sitting there pouting about?” Ember asks as she sits across from me.
“I miss Hunter,” I admit. There’s no use lying.
“Then tell him to come over. You know he’s waiting,” she says for the thousandth time.
“We need this time apart,” I say, as I have again and again.
“Hunter brought you more certainty than anything else while he was here. Of course, you’re going to go through some ups and downs, but I don’t think you need more time apart. I think what you need is to be together,” she insists.
“He has to fight his own demons. And being apart is good for people. It lets you know if you’re truly meant to be together or not.”
“Jazz, the two of you have a connection unlike anything I’ve seen before, and I’ve been around some great matches. Quit torturing both of you.”
I sigh. “I have to admit we have an unspoken understanding between us. We have this connection I can’t deny. But if that connection can’t stand up to time apart, what does it really mean?”
“It means you’re a stubborn fool,” she tells me, and I laugh. “Jazz, you guys are partners, not only in work, but in love. You can reach your dreams together.”
I nod, knowing she’s right, but still too stubborn to do anything about it. Days pass as I find minimal solace in self-discovery moments. I immerse myself in activities that would normally bring me joy, seeking out new experiences and exploring life, determining what I want to do next. I take lots of walks, and speak to strangers, hearing their stories and trying to figure out how it seems everyone but me has it together.
The more time that passes, the more frustrated Hunter grows. He’s come by the condo... but I haven’t let him in. I don’t know why. I’m trying to convince myself it’s because we need time. I’m starting to wonder if I’m testing him. Neither of us have truly been put to the test. Besides getting shot at, we haven’t experienced true adversity. Some might think having bullets whizzing past you is a test on its own, but that was our job, not our relationship. We’ll get it worked out, though... or we’ll move on. There really are no other options.
Hunter
The days of separation from Jasmine weigh heavily on me. I’ve questioned everything about my life. Did I make the right decision quitting the FBI? I still believe that was the right choice. It doesn’t matter now, though, because it’s done. I’d have to start all over again, and that’s something I don’t want to do. I’m not thinking much about the job anyway. All I seem to think about is the woman I want to hold.
During my forced solitude, I’ve thrown myself into distractions, desperate to find clarity. I’ve been running a lot through the city, allowing the rhythmic pounding of my footsteps on pavement to drown out the doubts echoing in my mind. Am I good enough for Jasmine? Maybe she’s telling me I’m not.
I hate these doubts. We love each other. That’s all that should matter. But, it’s not. People expect so much more than love to make a relationship last. They want to know what a person can give them. It doesn’t have to be money. But a partner is looking for more: comfort, help, children. The list goes on and on. What do I truly have to give to Jasmine? I can name a million things she gives me. I’ve always been confident and hate so much that I’m shaken right now.
