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Thursday is slightly more bearable than the rest of the week has been. I’m still thinking about Gunnar as much as ever, but I’m less angry and more concerned with how he’s holding up. I’m also finding it harder to justify putting off speaking with him.
By Friday I make up my mind and open the last text from him.
Gunnar: Joce, please. Just talk to me. Please?
I hold my breath and type a response.
Me: What would you say?
It takes less than a minute for the reply.
Gunnar: Let me tell you face to face
Gunnar:You can yell at me all you want
Gunnar:I need to see you. Please?
This is it. The crossroads of giving us another try or telling him we’re through. I take a breath and type out my response.
Me:8 tonight. My place. Don’t be late
I spend the rest of the day trying not to obsess about him, or how the conversation will go. I completely fail at both and am all but useless at work. It probably would have been best if I’d left early, but there aren’t any distractions at home, and that would have been worse. I force myself to finish the contract I’m working on and then walk back to my loft, hoping the brisk air will clear my head and calm my nerves. In a last-ditch effort to delay the inevitable, I stop and grab something to eat, and by the time I enter the lobby, Gunnar is waiting. He looks tired and pale, and utterly gorgeous. The ache in my chest threatens to overwhelm me. I want to walk right up to him and throw my arms around him, press my nose into his neck and breathe him in, feel his strong arms holding me close. I don’t do any of that, though. “Hi.” It’s all I trust myself to say.
“Hi.” He watches me warily, like I’m going to lash out at him, and I feel slightly guilty about it. I press the call button, and we wait in uncomfortable silence for what feels like an eternity before the elevator chimes and the doors open. I step in first and wait for Gunnar to follow, then slide my keycard into the slot and press the button for my floor. The ride up is just as silent, and equally painful, and when the doors finally open, I breathe a sigh of relief. I drop my laptop bag on the table and wave at the living room. “Have a seat. I’m going to change.” Without waiting for a reply, I hurry up the stairs. This conversation requires comfortable clothes. It’s going to be draining, and god only knows how long it will take.
I strip and toss my suit on the bed, pulling on sweats and a T-shirt, and when I come back downstairs I purposely go into the kitchen and give Dracona her dinner, and turn on the kettle. I really want a drink, but ultimately, alcohol will only make things more emotional and messy.
Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I walk back into the living room. “Do you want something to drink?” Gunnar shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. I sigh, sit on the opposite side of the couch, and look directly at him. “Okay, I’m listening.”
45
Gunnar
Jocelinsitsattheother end of the couch, and though I’m disappointed he’s keeping his distance, at least we’re on the same piece of furniture. Truthfully, I hadn’t expected anything more. I’dhoped, but the chance that Jocelin would see me and everything would be alright had been too low to acknowledge. So, scary as it is, I take a deep breath and lay everything bare for him. He deserves at least that much from me. “Joce, I fucked up. Not that you don’t know that already. But I promise you, that wasn’t my intent. Bjorn getting stabbed brought up a lot of memories of my mom’s murder. I kept flashing back, reliving it.” My heart pounds in my chest just thinking about it. “I was stuck in my head and it kept getting harder and harder to find my way out. I scared you so badly when I lost my shit and punched my car window, shouting at you when you were only trying to help.” Closing my eyes, I take a breath and chew the inside of my cheek, using the sting to fight back tears. “The look on your face… Joce, I never want to see that pain in your eyes again. Especially because of me.” Opening my eyes, I gaze into his. “I knew if I didn’t get myself under control, I was going to do or say something I couldn’t take back. I thought if I stayed, I’d fuck things up completely. Instead, I fucked them up by leaving. The bottom line is it hurt you.Ihurt you.” I clench my jaw, trying to keep my emotions under control. “That’s the last thing I meant to do, and I can’t tell you how truly sorry I am.” I wait for any reaction, but Jocelin just watches me, saying nothing. Fair enough. I deserve that. “I know I scared you.” He stares at me, anger flaring in his beautiful brown eyes, and my hope fades. I’ve hurt him too much. He’s not going to forgive me. And really, why should he? But I have to try. “How can I fix this?” My eyes swim with tears, but I keep my voice level. “Please, tell me how to fix this. The thought of not being with you, of never having you in my life, never—” My voice cracks, and I dig my fingers into my thighs, using the pain to keep myself focused. “I’m a dumbass. And what I did hurt you. I was already hurting you.” I’m not sure what else to say. “I’m just so sorry.”
Several emotions flit across Jocelin’s face before he shakes his head. “Don’t.”
“Joce, I…”
He holds up a hand. “Please. I don’t want to hear you apologize again, Gunnar. I really don’t.” My stomach sinks. I’ve done too much damage. “Because I’m the one who should apologize.”
My head snaps up. “What? Why?”
“Because I was an insensitive prick. I was so caught up in how hurt I was that I lost track of how much you were hurting. And how much you needed me to be there for you, and I wasn’t. I let you down.”
I shake my head. “No, you didn’t.”
“I absolutely did. I know you had past trauma. And yes, you got help, and by the time we got to know each other you were doing really well. But then you went through a horrible triggering event and lost your way. And what did I do? I got upset and let my feelings silence my better judgment. Did you take off and not tell anyone? Yes. And for the record, please don’t do that again. Absolutely take off if you need to, but please tell me first, so I don’t worry. Or better yet, let me help.”
My chest feels full, and my stomach swoops ridiculously because he’s talking about a future. Our future.
“Because that’s what love is, Gunnar. It’s letting the people who love you the most help you when you’re hurting the worst. It’s trusting them to help you shoulder the burden or take it from you when you can’t manage anymore. If you can’t rely on the people who love you when times are the bleakest, then what’s the point?”
He said love, notloved, and I’m clinging to that like a life raft. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I should have talked to you and let you help me figure things out. Because when you love someone, you should let them in, not push them away.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, Jocelin’s eyes lock on mine, and for the first time tonight, I feel true hope. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I love you.” I stand up and walk to his end of the couch, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet. “You said you’re the person who loves me the most. Well, I love you. And every word you said is true. I shut you out. I shut everyone out.” Taking a deep breath, I keep going. “If it makes any difference, I’m getting help. I’m seeing my therapist again, and we’re working through everything. All of it.” I swallow thickly, and when Jocelin doesn’t pull his hands away, I hold on tighter. “It’s slow going, and I’ve only been to two sessions, but it’s helping. I’m a dumbass for waiting so long to call Cass.” I snort. “She said as much.” I hold his beautiful gaze and resist the urge to lean in and kiss him. “I’m so very sorry I hurt you, Joce. It’s a lot to ask, but let me prove I won’t do it again. Let me try to make it up to you. You’re everything to me, and the thought of never waking up next to you again, of never seeing you smile at me the way you used to—” My voice breaks again, and the tears spill down my cheeks unchecked. I try again, but my voice comes out in a whisper. “I miss you so much.”
