Fall (VIP #3)(119)
“It’s a front. I was always corrupted.” And then John broke me by making me believe in forever.
Brenna laughs, but I have the feeling she knows very well that I’m just trying to make it through each minute. “You asked Killian to come home, and now you’re out of one. Where are you staying now?”
Initially, I’d considered going to Hank and Corinne. I’d quickly squashed the idea. I can’t do it. Not again. Call it stupid pride; I don’t care. The idea of telling them that John left me and I have no place to go makes me sick to my stomach. If I’m going to be alone in this world, I have to keep walking on my own two feet.
My fingers tremble as I trace through the condensation beading over the tea bottle, I turn my attention to the traffic we’re crawling through. “Short-term rental. It’s all good.”
Sophie blows a half-hearted raspberry. “A black-light, Pollock-inspired jizz fest? Stella, no.”
Brenna half turns in her seat. “I’m not going to force you, but I have a great place with a lot of room. And I want you to stay with me.”
“Why?” It comes out way too warbled. “You’re John’s friend, his family, really. You don’t need me hanging around like a pall.”
“Jax is my friend,” she agrees. “And I love him like a brother. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be your friend too.”
“I was kind of hoping I’d just go somewhere and lick my wounds in private.”
Sophie touches my knee, her brown eyes wide and pained. “I know what it’s like to feel alone and heartbroken. It blows. But the worst part is not having a shoulder to cry on. Please let us do that. Brenna is right—we like you. It doesn’t have to be about Jax.”
Except it will be. Right now, he’s all I can think about, and it blows. “It would be better for both of us if I just got out of his life completely.”
They’re both silent for a moment, and the sounds of car horns and the general buzz of the city seeps in. I turn away from the window and stare blindly down at my hands. I can’t even enjoy my city; I see him everywhere in it now.
“Do you really believe that?” Brenna asks softly.
My laugh is bitter. “Why shouldn’t I?”
She licks her lips and leans closer. “Jax is going through a rough spot right now. I’m not going to make excuses or try to figure out what he’s thinking. What I do know is that he’s never gotten attached to a woman. He’s never tried before you.”
“I know that.” My fingers clench around the slippery bottle. “I know he tried with me. And it didn’t work …” My voice cracks, and I look away. “Some things don’t work out, no matter how much you want them to.”
Neither of them says anything, and I’m grateful. We’re heading uptown, turning onto Park Avenue, where pretty strips of green grass divide the streets and nannies stroll their charges along sunny sidewalks.
“Stay with me,” Brenna finally says in a gently coaxing voice. “We’ll hang out. We’ll never mention He Who Also Must Not Be Named. We’ll just relax and you can regroup, figure out what you want to do.”
“I don’t know …” I trail off because it does sound nice. I’ve never had true girlfriends. I’ve wanted them, wanted someone to just talk to and let off steam. I filled that void with clients and casual acquaintances. Talking to Mrs. Goldman had been easier; she wasn’t my age, wasn’t looking for close friendship. But now that two nice, funny women are offering something real, I find it hard to give in.
I’ve held myself back for so long, I don’t know how to trust. The only person I truly gave that trust to was John, and look where that ended up? A lump rises in my throat. I don’t want to be broken and afraid to let go anymore. I don’t want to feel alone.
Sophie eyes me with caution, clearly worrying I’ll bolt. “Don’t worry about running into Jax. He’s planning to leave the country anyway …” Her words die an awkward death when Brenna outright hisses at her.
I want to laugh. Laugh until I cry. Because of course he’s leaving. He has that luxury. But my shoulders slump as I rest my head against the seat back. I can’t hate him. John is who he is. He needs his space to get his shit together. And, frankly, so do I.
My smile is probably bitter, but I don’t really care. “All right,” I say to Brenna. “I’ll stay with you.”
Chapter Thirty
John
* * *
“Mr. Blackwood, I can’t tell you how much this means to have you speak today.” Beverly, the woman in charge of the suicide prevention outreach program, gives me a warm smile that I both welcome and shy away from.
I’ve just hosted a casual hour-long talk with fellow survivors, and I am worn out but good, unbelievably good. I did the talk to help erase the stigma of silence, and to show people that they aren’t alone, that even a guy like me, supposedly sitting on the top of the world, has the same hopes and fears. I did it to help others, but in a weird way found that it helped me too. I’m tired, but lighter.
“Please call me Jax. And it was my pleasure.”
Jules accompanied me today, and she arranges another similar meeting for next month while I sign autographs and pose for pictures. I do those things gladly, because it’s clear it gives people joy to be around me. Weird for me personally, but I’ve learned to embrace it.