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“Alex?”
My body recognized the voice before my brain did, my blood running cold as every muscle locked up.
“Fuck, it’s really you. What are you doing in the city?” Jarred’s voice, my ex’s voice, hadn’t changed much since I’d last heard it, but there was something just different enough in his tone that I could turn around and face him. Shame? Regret? I couldn’t place it.
“Jarred,” I responded, panic clawing its way up my throat and threatening to close off my airways. Memories of our horrid past barreled through my mind, a series of flashes filled with fear and hurt and tears. My eyes darted toward the restaurant, wanting nothing more than Ethan to walk back out the door. I made to step that direction, but Jarred stepped in my path.
“You haven’t returned any of my calls,” he said, and where there would normally be accusation or anger, there was a pleading sense of desperation in his tone that gave me pause.
“Why would I?” I asked, looking up at him. He was definitely more fit than the last time I’d seen him in person, but being a star running back in the NFL would do that to a man I guess.
“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t owe me anything.”
My brain felt broken, so taken aback by the sight of him here.
“What are you doing here?” I managed to ask.
“Vacation,” he said. “Boys' trip before pre-season starts.”
I nodded, nerves tangling in my stomach as the moment stretched uncomfortably between us.
“This is bad,” he said. “I had no idea I’d run into you, but I’ve been trying to reach you forever, so maybe it’s fate.”
I took a step back, and he quickly raised his hands.
“Not fate, fate,” he said, then cringed. “Look, I’m sorry.”
I gaped at him.
“I know. Sorry doesn’t cover it. What I did to you when we were in our relationship—”
“What the hell is happening right now?” I asked, seriously so confused a headache formed at the base of my skull. Or that could just be the panic.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” he said. “You have to know that.”
Yeah, I knew it. I also hadn’t played one of his messages because fuck that.
“Anyway, I promised myself if I ever saw you again, spoke to you again, I’d tell you.”
“Tell me what, Jarred? We’re no longer in each other’s lives. At all. There’s no need—”
“There is a need,” he cut me off. “I know I never actually hit you, but I did some damage. I know that now. I was an asshole.”
“You were an abusive prick who gaslit me and then cheated on me.”
“Fuck,” he said, loosing a long breath. “I know. I mean, I didn’t know. I didn’t realize…fuck. This is going all wrong.”
“It always does.” I shook my head. God, I wished Ella and Nora were here. Wished Ethan would come back. Someone I trusted to tether me back to the real world.
“I know. It took me getting my ass handed to me before I realized how fucked up I was,” he said. “Getting drafted into the NFL was good for me in more ways than just my career. I went into therapy and uncovered some deep shit. And that’s not an excuse for the way I treated you, but I need you to know I’m really, truly sorry for it all.”
I felt like the sidewalk had fallen out from under me and I had to shake my head to clear my mind of the shock. “Wait, what?”
“I’m sorry for being an abusive toxic boyfriend, fiancé, whatever. I’m sorry for every single thing I did to you.”
My lips parted open, only a wisp of air escaping them. In all the times I’d pictured…no feared running into him again, this was never one of the scenarios that ran through my mind.
“I’m with someone,” I said, the words coming out slowly like my brain couldn’t really articulate what was happening. Fuck, I needed to get a grip.
I took a deep breath, and focused on my surroundings, using the sounds of the busy city streets to ground me.
“That’s great,” he said. “I’m not trying to win you back or anything,” he said. “Not that you’re not worth it,” he hurried to add. “I mean, you are. You were. The best.” He cringed again, and the sight of him so torn up brought a laugh to my lips.
“Sorry,” I said, reeling it in. “I’ve just never seen you so…”
“Human?” he filled in for me.
“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “So, therapy? It’s working for you?”
Some tension left his shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “It’s intense, and it’s harder work than running drills in a hundred-and-ten-degree weather, but it’s good. I’m learning things about myself I never knew. Bad things. Good things. In between things.” He shrugged. “I know an apology is pointless, but I really am sorry.”
