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I smirk at the confusion, disgust, and annoyance she projects in one word.
“Your parting statement is telling me you can’t trust me.”
I clear my throat, fighting the laugh that wants to choose that moment to come out. Nothing about this is funny. This is the woman who has owned my heart despite ripping it out of my chest and showing it to me all those years ago.
“That’s right. Is ... that amusing to you?”
Of course, she caught that. She has no problem reading that emotion but can’t seem to see the pain I’m currently in and have been in since that day.
“Slightly. You seem to be under the impression that the hurt road belongs solely to you. You have identified it as your own and act as if you’re the only one who has travelled it.” Her expression is one I’m used to seeing. Many a woman have shown me a version of this appalled look, but I press on this time. “Yes. Shocking, right? A man telling a ‘wronged’ woman she’s not the only one who was scared by a certain event. How dare he? Well, it’s my name, sweetheart. It should be expected.”
“You are the most arrogant, self-righteous ...”
Stepping into her personal space, I cover her mouth without covering it.
“Let me stop you there because I’m not finished. Plus, I figure you need to save up the insults, so you don’t have to repeat yourself later.” I’m close enough that I can feel her gasp on my hand. I continue. “You seem to remember our relationship ending with you being left behind. Let’s paint the full picture. Me, sitting with you, telling you how I felt about you, letting you know the first piece of the puzzle of my lifelong dream has been dropped into my lap. In response, you rain on my parade. You tell me you couldn’t take a risk with me. I am then told the life I dreamed of having wasn’t one I could share with the one person who meant ...everythingto me.”
She looks up at me upon hearing the crack in my voice. Tears fill her eyes and I have to look away. Those eyes have haunted me long enough.
“Jaxson ...”
“You were the only one I told what I wanted to do with my life. You were the one who told me that it was possible to even achieve it.You... you were the one who encouraged me to go for it. When I had it within my grasp, you told me it wasn’t your life, and I would have to go it alone.” Out of my periphery, I see a tear run down her cheek. I want to tell her I’ve shed plenty of my own. I don’t. I blink, step towards the door then lean towards her. In a whispered voice, I say, “You sure you’re the one who should have the trust issues?”
I don’t wait for her to respond. Opening my office door, I walk out of it, leaving her with those parting words. As I walk down the hall to the back door, I begin to mutter.
“Now call me whatever the fuck you want to because I’m not going to be around to hear it.”
When the door slams shut behind me, I have every intention of that being exactly what I do. I’m taking this as a sign of me putting all that shit in the past and leaving it there.
Intentions don’t always lead us where we want, but fuck all if we don’t try to still get there.
Chapter 14
Brooklynn
Savannah, GA May 4 –Thursday afternoon
The day before the Anniversary Event Day
I’m growing increasingly irritated with every minute that passes. It’s starting to show in my actions. Every garment of clothing on the rack is yanked with a little more force than the previous one. When I look up, I notice the crease in the salesclerk’s forehead as she watches me. As soon as she sees that I’m aware of her observing me melt down, one of her eyebrows raise. The question is clear. She wants to know if I’m done with my little tantrum. Offering her an apologetic smile, I lift one of the shirts from the rack then move on to one closer to where Journee is standing.
She shifts from side to side as she studies an orange, floral dress. Journee looks up from the dress to my reflection behind her.
“You’re quiet and no longer snatching things. Does that mean you’re ready to talk or is the woman behind the counter going to have to say words to you about the handling of the clothes?”
