28 Aubie #2
Speaking of cops, I wonder if Maxwell has had any luck looking into Ethan Lennox. “Have you heard from Ethan?”
Jimi frowns at me. “Okay, weird segue, but what brought that on?”
I shrug. “We haven’t really talked since the night you stayed over. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Well, thanks for asking, but no, I haven’t heard from Ethan and yes, I’m fine.”
“Good. On both counts.” Hopefully he never hears from him again, though knowing Ethan’s track record, I wouldn’t put money on it.
It’s been my experience that predators don’t recognize the word “no.” I just hope Maxwell is able to build a case against him before he has a chance to do any more damage.
I’ll do my part by ensuring Jimi doesn’t feel the need to lapse back into old habits.
I recall what Ryan said about his partner Mason and addiction. It takes all forms.
Thinking about that brings me back to Cutter and what he said about beating his own addiction. It seems every thought I have leads back to him. I swear the man is currently occupying at least half my brain cells.
“…right?” Jimi asks.
I blink; has he been talking to me? “I’m sorry, what?”
He grins. “Babe, you got it bad.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I have to admit, I never thought I’d see the day,” he continues.
I shake my head and concentrate on my smoothie, though it’s hard to ignore Jimi’s snarky expression. “What the hell is your problem?” I finally snap.
He chuckles. “Okay, okay. You don’t want to talk about it, fine, but know you’re breaking my heart. I thought I was the pillow you cry on.”
“Nobody’s doing any crying.”
“So there’s nothing going on you want to talk to your ol’ fuckbuddy Jimi about?”
I snort. “Why would there be?”
He nods like he’s going to let it go, but his acceptance lasts about thirty seconds. “Sorry, I’m not buying it. Why were you at the hospital with Cutter?”
“The man was stabbed in our parking lot.”
“Uh huh, I get that part. But you went with him to the hospital.”
“I was making sure he didn’t bleed out.”
“So why did you stay?”
“I–”
I got nothing. No matter how many times I ask myself that same question, I keep getting the same answer.
I don’t know.
Jimi gives me a knowing smirk. “Like I said, you got it bad.”
I want to deny it. I want to tell him he’s full of shit.
But I can’t.
I guess my face reflects that, because Jimi reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It’s okay. We’ve all been there. Even the mighty Aubie can be caught.”
I meet his eyes. “But I can’t–”
I can’t tell him why what I’m feeling is wrong in so many ways. Can’t tell him all my sordid history. He’s one of my closest friends, someone whose company I enjoy. One of the few people I allow myself to relax around. He would look at me differently if he knew what I’d done.
So why did I tell Cutter? Why did I feel like, of all the people in my life, he was the one I could trust with that truth? A truth I’ve never shared with anyone before. That’s a lot of ammunition to give to someone who claims to hate you.
That alone should be enough to warrant a full-on freak out. But that’s not what’s bothering me the most. It was his reaction to it. It wasn’t disgust or pity I saw in his eyes. It was sympathy, and that’s something entirely different.
Something I’ve craved with every beat of my aching heart.
Something that will be the death of me as surely as my own guilt.
Because that look in his eyes that stood my world up on its end?
I want to see it again.
And I know that’s not possible.
He took his little walk on the wild side with me. Maybe even enjoyed himself a little. But one thing a near death experience will do is make you question your life decisions, and I’m sure he sees me as one of his worst.
The best thing I can do for both of us is to chalk this all up to a pleasant experience and move on.
Yeah, I told him I’d visit him in the hospital, but what would be the point?
I helped him last night and he thanked me.
Obligation complete. Daryl said it best–Cutter has had his share of problems. He doesn’t need me adding to them.
“It’s a bad idea,” I tell Jimi.
“Says who?” he asks. “Listen, in all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you show enough interest in another person to want seconds.”
I give him a half smile. “I do with you all the time.”
He waves my protest aside. “That’s different. We’re friends with benefits. And I know where all your bodies are buried.”
Not all of them.
“Cutter and I…we come from different worlds. It would never work.”
He snorts. “And you’re suddenly an expert in what would work in a relationship?
” I side-eye him, but he ignores it. “Okay, when you first told me about you and him, I’ll admit, I was surprised.
I mean, the guy is an Everest. But there’s one thing I know about you.
You like a challenge. And when I looked at it that way, it made sense.
The fact that you went back for more tells me there’s something worth exploring there. ”
“And what if he doesn’t see it the same way?”
“You’ll never know unless you take a chance,” he offers. “Ask him.”
“Ask him what?”
“How he feels about you.”
Part of me balks at that idea. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because…what if he tells me to go to hell?”
“Seriously?” he laughs. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Glad you find this so amusing,” I mutter.
“The Aubie I know wouldn’t let a little thing like rejection stop him. If you like the guy–and there’s nothing wrong with admitting that–then go for it. A hundred percent.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“And you never will until you try.”
I’ve never given Jimi enough credit for being a good friend.
Yeah he’s as big of a slut as I am and got himself involved with a piece of shit like Ethan, but he’s also a smart guy who now and then hits on a nugget of wisdom that actually resonates with me.
I guess that’s why, an hour after he leaves, I find myself standing outside Cutter’s room at the hospital with “what the hell am I doing here?” playing on a loop inside my brain.
Suck it up, Aubie.
I take a deep breath and knock softly on the door before pushing it open.
The room is dim, the shades pulled shut. There are fewer machines blinking beside the bed, where Cutter appears to be asleep. I stand in the doorway for a minute, trying to talk myself out of bothering him, when he stirs and opens his eyes.
I guess I should have brought a peace offering, something to break the ice and explain my presence in case he didn’t mean it when he said I could visit. Instead all I have is my quick wit and a hopeful smile.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” I say as I step into the room and push the door shut.
His color has improved and he looks more alert, despite having just woke up. “I wasn’t sleeping,” he assures me. “Just trying not to die of boredom. I’m not a fan of hospitals.”
“That makes two of us.” I round the bed and lower myself into the chair next to it. “Have you seen the doctor today?” seems like a safe place to start, though it smacks of small talk.
“Yeah, he came in right before lunch. Shined a light in my eyes and checked my pulse before telling me I’m right on schedule, whatever that means.
” He shifts in the bed and grimaces. “I’m trying not to use the morphine pump so much, but every now and then I’ll get hit with a twinge I can’t roll with.
If I pass out, don’t take it to mean I find you boring. ”
I smirk. “Do you…find me boring?”
“You’re a lot of things, Aubie, but boring isn’t one of them.”
I try not to preen at that. “Do you need anything? I mean, if it’s something from a store, I can go get it. Sorry, I don’t how to get to your house, though I’d do it if you asked me.”
He doesn’t say anything for several minutes, just stares at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out. The words that finally come out of his mouth leave me speechless.
“I’m beginning to think I misjudged you, and for that, I’m sorry.”
Not the direction I pictured this conversation going.