Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Johannes
After my win in France, I spend a week with my parents in Dortmund.
My dad has a lifelong fear of flying, so they don’t make it to many races, and even the closer ones are too much for them as they get older, but they are still the most supportive parents I could ask for and leaving them again was hard.
It’s a short trip across the border to Zandvoort in the Netherlands.
Harper flew in last night, so we’re getting dinner together in an hour, just the two of us, which will be nice.
I love our extended group of friends but it’s rare we get to spend time like this anymore. That makes it feel extra special.
I’m about to head out to meet him when my phone rings.
‘Hey, so I know it’s meant to be just us two going for dinner tonight, but…
’ I wait for him to say that Kian’s flown in early, rather than meeting us in Italy for Monza next week, or that Elijah’s gatecrashing the evening.
I sigh, though I’ve already accepted the inevitable.
‘But, I just had a meeting with Jackson and, man, he’s bummed out right now.
I think he’s really starting to panic about being announced as team principal. ’
Wait … what? Is he cancelling on me to spend the evening with my ex? This is what happens when you keep secrets.
‘We can go out another time, no big deal,’ I say.
I’ll stay in and game with Nils. No big deal.
‘No, don’t be silly. He’s just going to come with us for dinner.’
That’ll be a fuck no from me.
What the fuck is he playing at?
‘Does he, uh, know that he’s crashing a dinner out with me?’
‘Yeah, of course. He needs this right now, Jo. I know you don’t really know him very well, but he’s a good guy. He and Kian have become good friends over the years. Ki’s worried about him.’
I almost snort out a laugh at that. Don’t know him very well? Like I haven’t seen every inch of that man’s body! Like I don’t see through the charm to the asshole beneath.
‘Sounds like you should take him out and you and I can catch up another time,’ I say.
‘Come on, Jo. Please?’ Harper says.
Fuck my life.
This might actually kill me.
‘Right, sure, fine.’
‘Thanks, Jo! He needs this.’ I need it like a hole in my head, but what else can I say?
‘See you there,’ I say tightly before ending the call.
I look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m wearing one of my tightest pairs of black jeans with a midnight-blue vest and sheer black shirt over it.
I was going for an easy, casual vibe and I don’t want to change to appease Jackson, but I feel very exposed and vulnerable right now.
I want to pull on my comfiest hoodie and sweats to protect myself from him.
But fuck him, right? Fuck him.
‘Are you okay?’ Nils asks when I go out into the lounge where he’s setting up his game console. ‘You look a little grey.’ I feel a lot grey, like I could be sick if I think too deeply about how tonight is going to go.
‘Just tired, and I’m not very hungry, which isn’t great as I’m meeting Harper and Jackson for dinner.’
‘Jackson Calder?’ Nils’s crystal-blue eyes almost bulge out of his head as he springs forward, half a bowl of popcorn spilling over the sides and onto the armchair and floor.
‘Yeah. Harper invited him because he’s sad or something.’ I’m impressed by how nonchalant I sound.
‘And you’re, um, all right with that?’ The way he eyes me makes me feel even more sick. He knows. He knows. Fuck, he knows.
But wouldn’t he have said something before now if he knew? If he’d put the pieces together before today, I’d never have heard the end of it from him.
I shrug, not at all convinced I’d be able to squeak out any more words.
‘Do you … need an out?’ He offers me a small smile before his eyes flit back to the screen.
Holy shit. Nils definitely knows about me and Jackson. He’s never offered me an out before, because why would he? I’m not the kind of person who does things they don’t want to do. Even my agent knows to pick his battles.
How long has he known? How did he figure it out? Why hasn’t he said anything till now? But the way he’s handled it gives both of us plausible deniability and I respect him a thousand times more right now.
‘All good, man, but thanks.’ I slip on my trainers and make a hasty exit.
The restaurant is a thirty-minute walk. I’d planned to get a taxi, but I need the walk. I need some time to clear my head and mentally prepare myself for the evening ahead. Just a casual dinner with my best friend and his new boss, the man Harper has no idea is my ex.
Your standard Wednesday evening.
The walk does nothing to help me. As I get closer to the restaurant, I feel sicker and sicker. I stand frozen in the doorway. Harper and Jackson sit at a small round table, three beers already waiting, both laughing at something I can’t hear.
It’s hard to fucking watch. I hate Jackson so much.
I despise the way he treated me, the way he strung me along.
I despise how he made me feel about myself.
He knew how I felt about him and he used it to take, take, take and give back crumbs in return.
He was my first love, and he acted like that love was worth nothing.
He made me doubt that I have anything to offer besides my body.
He made me afraid to love again for fear it would be thrown back in my face.
Resentment coils in my stomach and I feel bitter acid rising up my throat. I have to swallow hard to control it. I haven’t even made it to the table and I feel like I could throw up. How will I endure this?
I can’t stop thinking about how many times he stood me up. Or pretended to barely know me at a party. I know exactly how many times he made excuses not to meet my parents because I counted. Twelve times. We were together almost three years, and he treated me like a dirty little secret.
And now he expects me to sit down for dinner with him and my best friend and act like he didn’t break my heart? I swallow hard. I’ll never be able to drink that beer if I can’t settle my stomach.
As I watch him through the window, the only thought running through my head is that Caleb would never, never, treat me that way.
Instead of engaging in a secret relationship conducted behind everyone’s backs, Caleb explained honestly and openly why he can’t take the risk.
I understand and I agree – his position is more vulnerable than mine – and I see him struggle to stick to his principles every time our eyes meet or our ankles touch. And it only makes me admire him more.
There’s really no comparison between Jackson and Caleb, and it makes my blood boil that I’m being manipulated into attending this dinner.
What would happen if I went in there and told Harper everything?
I allow myself to enjoy that thought for a second, but it’s not fair for me to put my friend in that position with the new principal of his team.
Nothing else for it, I think, and square my shoulders then reach for the door of the restaurant when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
It’s a message from Caleb.
What you up to tonight? My head is hurting from reviewing tape and working on the conclusion to my thesis. Fancy an evening run?
I’m in no mood – nor outfit – for a run right now, but I do fancy getting the fuck out of here. I text back.
Do you have a company car right now?
Yeah why?
Thankful that he’s fast on the reply, I quickly shoot back to him.
Could you come grab me from this address?
I send a pin to him a few doors down, and with one final look through the window at the two of them sipping beer at the table, I get the fuck out of there.
I pace the pavement as I consider what I’m going to tell Harper as to why I’m not going to show, never mind how I’m going to explain to Caleb why I’ve asked him to come and get me.
I’ve already received three messages from Harper asking where I am and how long I’m going to be, and then eight messages that consist solely of a series of question marks.
I start typing but then delete the message and start again. I delete that too, and before I can start a third attempt, Caleb pulls up beside me and rolls down the window.
‘Get in,’ he says.
I do, and he pulls away immediately.
‘You don’t look like you’re dressed for a run, so what’s the plan?’
I don’t have one. I can’t even begin to think of one. ‘I don’t know. Can we just drive?’
I let out a long, slow breath. I run through every nightmare scenario that could have happened if Caleb’s text had arrived just a few seconds later.
It’s not fair that Harper’s caught in the middle.
It’s not fair that I can’t talk about this with anyone.
It’s not fair that Jackson gets to move on, seemingly untouched by our break-up.
It’s the stress of the job that’s been getting him down, not dumping me.
He was in there laughing and joking – completely unbothered by the prospect of spending an evening with me, while I was frozen to the spot, desperately swallowing down acidic bile at just the sight of him.
The motion of the car moving through stop-start traffic isn’t helping my stomach.
I can’t be sick in the car in front of Caleb. That would be truly awful for both of us.
I bend forwards and drop my head between my legs to stop the anxious waves of nausea that keep hitting me.
It’s not an easy position to maintain for a man over six-foot tall, but it’s worth it when the churning in my stomach starts to ease.
When I can finally sit upright again, Caleb’s pulling into a parking spot next to the beach.
I’m out of the car before Caleb has even fully put it into park. I rip off my socks and shoes and jog along the beach a little way, enjoying the cool breeze of an early September sunset.
I face the sea and scream out my pain and frustration, scaring a flock of birds. When I feel hollow and empty, I drop to the sand, roll onto my back and close my eyes.
Caleb collapses beside me. I open my eyes to see him placing my socks and shoes by his side, then carefully removing his own.
Eventually, I am able to catch my breath and sit up.
‘What’s going on, Jo?’ he asks gently.
Where do I even start?
‘I just … it’s been an evening. I was about to walk in there and have dinner with my ex but I couldn’t. I couldn’t go in.’
There. That doesn’t give too much away.
‘Oh. Wow. Yeah. That’s a lot.’
My hands are still shaking a little as I brush sand off my shirt.
‘Then you texted and I panicked and ran away. I’m over him, but like, fuck, he seriously messed me up.’
Caleb brushes sand off my back, and the motion is soothing.
‘It’s why I overreacted when you … you know … the other night. In my apartment. In London.’ As if there could be any other night.
His sand-brushing turns into gentle circles on my back, and I feel my body letting go of the hurt.
I relax into his touch and then his arms are around me and he’s holding me and for the first time since I answered the phone to Harper, my breathing feels steady, my heart stops racing, and my brain stills.
It doesn’t fix any of my problems, but it does make me feel less strung out.
Caleb doesn’t push any harder for information and I’m grateful, because there aren’t any words for this fucked-up situation.
He’s the most calming person in the world, I think, as I feel his peaceful energy sink into my bones.
We sit there like that, watching the moon rise and the sky turn a deep shade of purple, until the air bites at my skin through my sheer shirt.
I shiver and Caleb unzips his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like, I realise. Love. Not the stomach-churning uncertainty and self-doubt that Jackson convinced me was the thrill of a forbidden affair. It’s perfect contentment in the arms of another while the world and its problems rage around you.