Chapter 22 #2
“How are you, JJ?” he asks, tapping his finger on the table mindlessly.
“You called me here, Nash.”
“Humor me. How’re things? Have you talked to the Senator?”
“Why do you hate him?”
He scoffs, looking at me in disbelief. “Are you kidding? He treats you like shit.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does, and you can’t argue otherwise.”
“He—”
“What does he do that’s good? What makes him such a great husband?”
“He’s just busy with work.”
“Too busy for his husband,” he comments. “Meaning maybe he shouldn’t have gotten married.” I just stare at him, confused why he’s going off about this when he called me here for something important. “Remember that time you brought a date to his restaurant just to get his attention?”
I remember that all too well, actually. I think about it often. Too often.
“Did you call me here just to complain about my marriage?”
“No, I have something to tell you.”
“Well, what is it? Because I’m not going to sit here and let you talk shit about my husband the entire time.”
“Maybe if I do it enough, you’ll divorce his ass.”
Bea comes back with our coffees, putting a cup in front of each of us. “Food will be out soon. I heated up your muffin the way you like, with extra butter.”
“Thanks, Bea,” Nash says with a kind smile, and she leaves us alone once again.
Nash puts two sugars in his coffee and one cream. He picks it up to take a small sip, but I can see it’s still steaming. I let mine sit—I’ll drink it black, and it’s obviously too hot.
“I didn’t come here to talk about you, JJ, but now that you’re in front of me, I can see something is going on.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. And we promised each other a long time ago—me, you, and Hollis—that we wouldn’t let each other go through anything alone. So, you can sit here and tell me what’s going on with you, or you can leave—without me telling you what’s going on with me.”
Fuck.
He knows just how to get to me. Fucking cops. Fucking big brothers. Just… fuck!
It’s not that I don’t want to talk to Nash about this. If there’s anyone I can talk to about this mess, it’s him. I just don’t like talking about it at all, because deep down, I know he’s right. And I hate admitting that I’m wrong about something… that I’m failing.
“Fine,” I say, letting out a sigh. “Franklin called about a week ago, saying he was coming by to check on me.”
“Check on you, like…”
“I don’t know. Like I need a babysitter, I guess?
And I have no idea what this is about because I haven’t done a damn thing that would warrant that sort of response.
I’d just gone to see him, and he ignored the hell out of me, and now suddenly, he wants to come here to make sure everything is good? ”
“But…” Nash says, picking up his coffee and pinning me with a stare that says I better keep going or he won’t be happy.
“But I have been seeing someone. Sort of.”
“Who is he?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. You said you’re seeing him, not that he was a hookup.”
My brother has never judged me for anything I’ve done.
He may not like Franklin, and he points out his flaws and how ridiculous my marriage is every chance he gets, but if I choose to stay with Franklin, ultimately, he’ll support me.
He’ll stay by my side no matter what. Because he’s right.
We did make that promise to each other all those years ago, that we would never let the other deal with something alone.
Through hell or high water, we will be there for each other.
Which is why I know all he wants is for me to be happy, and if that means dealing with the devil I know, he’ll accept it.
Nash knows about every aspect of my relationship.
He knows both Franklin and I hook up with other people, which is just another thing Nash doesn’t understand about my marriage.
Honestly, I don’t get it either. Why are we doing it?
Why not either figure things out and sleep together… or let go, and do what we want?
“He’s just some guy I met at a bar a few weeks ago.”
“But you’ve seen him more than once?”
“Yes.”
“It’s serious?”
“It can’t be serious, Nash. I’m married,” I just about growl, my frustration getting the best of me.
“Okay, here’s the food, guys.” Bea puts a plate down in front of Nash. It’s the biggest muffin I’ve ever seen, taking up almost half the plate.
There’s another plate put down in front of me, with a sandwich cut in half from corner to corner.
“You let me know what you think about this sandwich, JJ, okay?”
“Anything for you, Bea.” I smile up at her, and she shakes her head with a smile.
She’s a pretty woman. Dark hair, light brown eyes. She has a wedding ring on, but I’ve never heard her talk about her partner.
“Shout if you need me.” She walks off to go back behind the counter and do what she needs to do.
“He’s just a guy,” I say, picking up my sandwich and taking a bite. It could use some salt, but it’s pretty good. Spinach, tomatoes, some kind of cheese, all mixed into a scrambled egg between toast.
“Just a guy,” Nash says as he stabs a piece of the muffin with his fork. “Were you with him when I called?”
“What? No.”
“Liar,” he says.
“I’m not lying.”
“Like fuck you aren’t. Not only can I tell because you’re my brother, but I’ve been a cop more than half my life, JJ. You are lying.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. My loyalty is with Franklin.”
“What the fuck,” he says with a huff. “Why? He sure as fuck isn’t loyal to you. And how can you claim loyalty when you’re fucking someone else?”
“Because it doesn’t matter,” I say the words slowly.
“Doesn’t matter so much that you’ve been with him more than once and spent the night, which I know is something you do not do.
Franklin doesn’t act like your husband. Where is he?
Do you even know what he’s doing?” He scoffs, taking another bite, then his tone changes, turning softer.
“Getting a divorce doesn’t make you a failure, JJ.
It makes you stronger. Going through that isn’t easy.
But you deserve to be happy. Don’t stay with him because you think you can fix this.
It’s been fourteen years. Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel.
It’s not your fault. It’s his, and I know you know that. ”
I sigh, putting down my sandwich because now, I’m not hungry. I’ll have to eat it though. I don’t want to offend Bea, and it is good. Plus, I could use something in my stomach.
“Why am I here, Nash?” I ask, not having any fight in me anymore. The last thing I want to do is talk about Franklin. My life revolves around him, and quite frankly, I’m sick of it.
Nash wipes his hands on the paper napkin, then pins me with a firm stare.
“I got a job.”
“No shit. You’ve been working the same job for years.”
“No, a new one.” He clears his throat. “In New York.”
Well… fuck.
My stomach drops.
“New York? Are you serious?”
He nods once, still holding my gaze.
“What’s in New York?” I ask, trying to hide the emotion clogging my throat.
“I need a change. I’m tired of this city. I’ll be going to Homicide. Specifically, working on unsolved cases. I could do a lot of good there. This undercover shit? I’m tired of it. It’s too much. I’m not getting any younger, and I need something different. I just…”
His words trail off. I hear him but I don’t hear him at the same time. I’m too caught up in my own shit now. He’s my brother and I love him. I want him to be happy, whatever that means… but he’s leaving me like everyone else.
I sit in my truck and stare at the cafe building. I should go home and sleep. Maybe stop and grab a bunch of water or Gatorade, but I can’t seem to move. I’m just so… fucking empty.
My phone dings, and I glance at it.
The notification tells me it’s a text from Miles, so I grab my phone from the cup holder and unlock it.
Miles:
Just making sure you’re okay. I have such a headache.
I treated him like shit this morning… again.
I left him.
Again.
Yet he keeps coming back.
He hasn’t left me. Not like everyone else.
Why?
I don’t answer him; I just drive to his house.