Beautiful Disaster (Not Strong Enough #2)

1. Chapter 1

Jinx

I know it’s coming. There’s a heaviness to it, weighing down your soul. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been through this, but it happens so much that I feel it before it happens. I should be used to the numbness by now.

Her quickly getting dressed while frowning tells me all I need to know. Still, I brace for her words, quickly building walls brick by brick, but I’m not fast enough. My gut whooshes, unable to breathe until realization hits like a sledgehammer.

It feels like it’s coming out of left field, but that’s only me being in denial.

Be real, Jinx. It’s coming from home plate, so it’s not a total surprise. Or shouldn’t be. And that’s the extent of my knowledge of baseball. Or any sport, for that matter.

Well, shit.

Another girlfriend bites the dust.

Someone should make that into a song. I would if I had any musical talent whatsoever.

I lie in bed naked and sweaty from sex as Gwen puts on her bra, the used condom lying on the floor by her feet, taunting me, our sex quickly replaced by tension. Tangled blonde waves spill forward when she snags her underwear from the floor.

“You know, you’re such an asshole,” she says too calmly, pulling up her panties.

It’s taking all I have not to weep like a fucking baby right now. A hardened life from years of abuse doesn’t protect you from a broken heart, apparently.

I rub my fingers, covered in tattoos. I wish I’d never gotten them—a reminder of all I suffered. They seemed cool at the time. Hurt like a sonofabitch. All my efforts to get over my past vanish every time I look at them.

“Jinx!” she snaps, pulling me back to the present.

I close my eyes and sigh. “Look, babe, I’m sorry, okay?”

I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for. Gwen’s always mad at me over various shit. I keep fucking up somehow.

“You’re always fucking sorry. I’ve put up with your ass for six months now. I forgive you, over and over, but still, you never change. It’s boring, Jinx. I’m fucking bored.”

Ouch.

Is she mad because I said something blunt or offensive? Probably. Before, I’d come to terms with how I am as a person, but now? I keep losing people I care about because I can’t keep my fucking yap shut. I can’t help myself sometimes. I’m not sure I even know how to be delicate and soft.

As I look back on what we said to each other, I don’t think I said anything that would piss her off enough to dump me. Not this time.

She’s leaving you, Jinx. Of course, you fucked up.

It’s not all my fault. I wasn’t exactly raised by loving parents.

I’ve spent almost two years in therapy, having to reflect deeply.

It was painful as fuck, and I hated every moment of it.

I itched from it. I’ve made a lot of good strides, but I guess it’s not enough.

Doc said it’s a coping mechanism or whatever—hurt others before they hurt me.

Maybe, but I don’t see it. It’s not like I’m intentionally trying to hurt people. I don’t want her to leave me. Right?

“It’s not that you’re a bad person, Jinx. We just keep having the same argument. Nothing gets resolved. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living like that.”

While I love the ladies, they need gentleness I didn’t expect. That’s just not me, and I fucking tried. Maybe that’s what she’s angry about. Maybe she just needs a good hug. I reach my arms out to her. “Come here. If you want to snuggle, I’ll snuggle.”

Gwen’s pretty green eyes narrow as she zips up her jeans.

“Jesus, it’s not just about your fucking lack of affection.

I get why you aren’t. You’re smart as fuck, Jinx, but not where it matters.

” She pulls her fitted T-shirt over her head.

“And you don’t have to speak every single word that filters through that stubborn head of yours.

Tact, Jinx. You need fucking tact, and you have zero amount of it. ”

My brain tries to recall again what I said to set her off, finally, but I’m drawing blanks. Something tells me if I ask, she’ll get even saltier.

I reach out for her again and wiggle my fingers. “Come on, babe. You know I care about you. You also know the trauma I’ve gone through. It’s no secret. I’ll go back to see my therapist. I promise.”

She rests her hands on her hips. “No, Jinx. I’m done.

I shouldn’t have to keep fighting with you about this.

” She sits on the edge of the bed and places her hand on my face, sighing.

“Look, I get what you’ve been through. That shit…

I can’t even fucking imagine. But I need love and kindness.

I need someone who’s emotionally intelligent and available.

Someone I can connect with. I feel like such an asshole for dumping you because of everything you went through, but I have to think about me, too. ”

And there go my fucking eyes. Dammit. It’s fucking triggering. I fall to my knees from the backhand to my face. “Stop fucking crying!” Tito grits. “Fucking baby.” He grips my hair and yanks my head up. “Open up and choke on my cock. That’s the only time I want to see tears.”

I take her hand and play with her fingers. “I guess that’s fair.” It’s not, though. I’m tired of being dumped. It makes me feel unwanted and unloved. No one seems to like me. Or they do, but get fucking sick of me. My ego has been taking a fucking beating for the past couple of years.

“You know what you need?” she asks, wiping away an annoying stray tear. I want to pull away. Burn with it. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.

I shake my head.

“You need a man. I know you were forced to sleep with countless men when you were a kid. I still shudder at the thought of what they did to you. But I think you’ll be able to relate to them better.

You don’t even have to have sex with him.

Not just any man. A man who won’t put up with your shit but won’t leave you for it either. ”

I chuckle humorlessly. “It’s not gonna happen.”

When I started dating women, I thought it’d be easier and less complicated.

How wrong I was. They’re complex and emotionally evolved.

My stupid brain struggles to relate to them on a deeper level.

I see things. I process things differently, analyzing and figuring out what’s going on—all except when it comes to me and my life, like I’m blind or something.

It’s not that I have anything against men, per se.

While I was forced to be a hooker, I thought I was straight.

According to my therapist, she thinks I’ve pushed myself to date women just to avoid men.

I guess that’s possible. While I can have sex with the ladies, I struggle to bond with them.

Or anyone, for that matter. It’s fucking lonely.

It’s like I’m doing something that intentionally hurts me, but I can’t seem to fix it.

Gwen brushes her fingers through my hair.

“You’re so amazing in so many ways. You’re in college, preparing for a job that’s so rewarding, which impresses the hell out of me, especially after what you’ve been through.

You do great work on the ranch here and take care of the gazillion animals.

But you’re emotionally stunted. That just doesn’t work for me any longer.

I tried. I really did. I’m sorry, Jinx.”

“Yeah, me too. Thanks for not beating me up too badly, though my ego is kind of bruised.” I give her a small smile so she won’t feel so bad, but I’m fucking tearing up inside.

She laughs and kisses my forehead. “You’ll be okay.” Then she stands, grabs her jacket, and waves. “See ya around, Jinx.”

“Bye.”

As soon as the door closes, I pull the covers over my head, still smelling her perfume and sex.

My eyes leak a little more, but I finally manage to shove it aside, get up, and wash my bedding to erase all traces of Gwen. Then I climb back into bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

The next morning, I take Waffle out for a gallop on the property. She has a ridiculous name, but Aleks insists on naming all the animals after anything sugary. Even the ranch is named ‘Sugar-Sweet Ranch.’ It makes him happy, and that’s all that matters.

My horse, gifted to me by Julien, is a beautiful Palomino with a tan hide and blonde mane. She’s gorgeous and the sweetest horse.

After we moved here, we all learned how to ride horses. I mean, I guess it’s the smart thing to do if you want to raise them.

It’s funny how I used to hate the outdoors or any sort of exercise. Now, I love it. I can’t imagine living in a city ever again.

When I’m on her back, pushing her as fast as she can go through the meadow of dead flowers and grass, I feel fucking free and light.

My head clears of all the crap cluttering my brain.

It’s one of the few things that brings me joy.

That’s Julien’s doing. He pushes us hard to find our happiness.

To not succumb to the fear, loneliness, pain, and even worse, fall into apathy. He’s adamant about it.

When I reach my destination, I hop off Waffle and tie her reins loosely around a tree branch.

I sit on a boulder and look out over the rushing waters of the river that lines our property and the mountains behind it.

This is my favorite spot, especially in late spring, when the surrounding meadow blooms, dotting the long grass like a painting.

But we’re in early November, and it’s cold.

The first snow is expected next weekend.

Aleks, Julien, and I love winter and snow. We never had either, having lived in LA all our lives. It’s so green in the spring and summer, too. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

Durango is quiet. Peaceful. It stills my chaotic mind. But not today.

We’ve lived here for about two and a half years. In that time, I’ve dated more than twenty women. All of them ended in failure, and it was all my fault. Every single time. It had to be. Why else would I fail so fucking epically? Even I’m smart enough to see the patterns.