33. Jeb
Chapter thirty-three
Jeb
I think I like Fallon, and I don’t mean as a friend.
I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. Probably nothing. I don’t think I can. I’m sure it’s part of the bro code… don’t catch feelings for the fiancée of the man you accidentally killed.
Maybe it is a good idea that she’s trying to find a guy on a foreign island.
No . It’s not.
Fuck.
I curl up in her bed. The one that smells like lemons and flowers… like her. I’m a fucking moronic idiot for doing this to myself. Highlight and underline that last sentence.
I should’ve seen it coming a mile away. Somehow, platonically helping Fallon has turned into a friendship, but now it’s me wanting to spoon her in this bed.
I fucking suck.
Maybe this is just another punishment for taking Rhett’s life. God plucks the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and dangles her right in front of me, knowing I can’t have her. He makes her wildly magnetic, highly intriguing, and strikingly gorgeous with the most compassion I’ve ever witnessed from anyone.
Is this what Adam felt like with the apple?
Smart enough to know he was supposed to resist but dumb enough not to give a single fuck as he smiled and crunched into the crisp, sweet but slightly tangy apple while the juice dripped from his face?
I’m going to have to find a way to walk away from this whole thing. The new flooring was put in yesterday, and the basement’s more than ready for me to return, but here I am, still at Fallon’s house. I told my parents I was staying because of the cats.
The fucking cats. What a lame excuse. Cats don’t need someone to spend the night with them, but I can’t tell my mom it’s because I feel comfortable at Fallon’s house surrounded by her things. Even without Fallon here, I sleep like a baby. I talk to Rhett’s picture daily. It makes me feel close to him. Just when I think maybe the universe is trying to tell me it’s okay to move forward and be happy, it gives me the wrong woman. The one I shouldn’t want.
I can’t take Rhett’s life and his fiancée. The first one was an accident. The second… Fuck this whole fucking situation.
I scrub my hands over my face, wondering how I can right this wrong. If I give Fallon space and keep my distance, she’ll be left with stupid Shay as her closest friend.
I can’t deny that we’re friends, and I refuse to be another person Fallon loses in her life, especially if it’s because I no longer see only a friend when I look at her. I could see my whole future in her eyes if I let myself get lost.
At this point, I want her to find a boyfriend. Once she gets one, she won’t need me for anything, and I can go back to slowly trying to grow my life in ways that don’t involve her. I might even move to a different state to escape everything here.
My brain’s late-night logic presents only one option: Fallon needs to find a boyfriend so she can ditch me and hang out with him instead. He can try her favorite hobbies, learn what ice cream flavor she chooses for which season, and take her on vacation. He can figure out her new goals in life and help her accomplish them. He can be the one who gets to live rent-free in her mind.
She deserves the world.
At some point, deep in my thoughts, I must have fallen asleep. By morning light, I realize the road trip my mind took last night in the dark isn’t helping anything. Fallon can determine how things play out between us. I’ll continue to be her friend and let things go from there. Eventually, she’ll get a boyfriend, and slowly but surely, I’ll fade into the background. That way, nothing happens fast, and Fallon won’t notice when I become obsolete.
So essentially… my plan hedges on her finding a boyfriend before my self-control dissolves, and I beg to kiss her.
My plan is terrible.
I clean her house and pack my duffle bag before heading to the shop to input supply orders. I’ll stay one more night, basically only to punish myself. But also because my parents think I’m staying here because of the cats, and if I come back home the night before Fallon gets home, they’ll know I’ve been lying all along.
My heart races when my watch buzzes with a notification that Fallon sent a picture message. I pat my hands over the papers on my desk until I find my phone. I’m not interested in inputting station 18’s supply order until I see the picture.
I’ve never been a foot guy, but holy fuck, her feet dipped in the shallow end of a pool have me wondering if I am now. Her toes are painted light pink, like a cotton candy sunset.
I snap a picture of my work boots under the chair at my desk and send it.
Fallon Charlotte McCann
Bet you wish you were here instead.
Yeah, I do.
Fallon Charlotte McCann
Next time.
I take a phone call from my supervisor before I can text back. One problem after another pops up. I drive to Station 80 to look at a loose bracket on one of their paper towel dispensers, wondering why someone couldn’t have just sent me a picture.
Sorry, it got busy at work. I’d have to get a serious tan before I head to an island. Right now, I’d burn to a crisp.
Fallon Charlotte McCann
I saw you in a sleeveless shirt the other day. You’ll be fine.
Did you talk Shay into going to the resort tonight instead of elsewhere?