21. Joel
Chapter twenty-one
Joel
My buzzing phone blends with the hum of flies seeking shade on Jeremy’s porch. In the space of forty-eight hours, my entire life collapsed. Every hour, more messages pile up, first from Tracey and then from our friends, and finally from my employees when I don’t show up for work.
Everything I’ve spent a decade building is collapsing, and I can’t bring myself to care. Aliens could invade Earth right now, and I wouldn’t get out of bed. Jeremy’s bed, to be precise.
It’s a surprisingly comfortable mattress.
His tiny one-bedroom unit looks somehow bigger from this angle.
More homey too. Our high school graduation photo decorates the wall at the foot of the bed, the picture with us beaming and holding our certificates while Mom, Dad, and the cousins squeeze in around us.
My brother placed it right where he can see it every morning when he wakes up.
I don’t know if I even have any family photos.
Well, I only have the suitcase I packed right now and my work tools. Suppose I’ll need to go through the garage at some point. If I have any photos left, they’ll be there, where Tracey put them “out of the way.” Maybe the garage caught on fire and burned all my stuff.
Wouldn’t be surprised at this point.
I lie on my back, staring at the peeling ceiling and listening to my upset stomach gurgle until the urge drives me out of bed.
With a groan, I stumble to the bathroom, tripping on my heavy work boots piled in the middle of the room.
Did I leave them there? Tracey would’ve scolded me big time for that.
My bodily functions explode in the toilet, my guts protesting the upending of a nice, upper-class life. That’s the dream, right? Fiancé, suburban home with a double garage, talking about kids in the future while building an emergency fund and a sparkling social life.
Somebody said that’s the ideal life, but try as I might, I can’t remember who. Seemed important at the time.
As I sit on the porcelain throne, I examine the bathroom.
Barely nine feet square, I have to keep my knees up to avoid hitting the vanity.
A tiny upright storage cabinet sits in the opposite corner beside a shower cubicle so small I bet my brother’s dick pokes out through the curtain when he washes.
The idea makes me snort.
My ex asked me about my brother’s cock size. Feels like a lifetime ago.
When I finish, I clean the bathroom on autopilot. Scrub the porcelain, wipe the vanity and polish a year’s worth of grime out of the drain ring. Don’t want Jeremy yelling at me about messing up his sweet little bathroom . . . except Jeremy’s not that kind of person.
I can’t tell if he’s the abnormal one for being so laid back, or if it’s the opposite. What if most people don’t scream about shaved whiskers left on the sink, or mud on the tiles?
Surely that’s not the case. Jeremy’s just too relaxed. It’s weird for anyone to be that easy going. But a little voice whispers in the back of my mind: Maisy, our shared omega all those years ago, was easy-going.
Which leads me right back to questioning the woman I just broke up with.
I loved her, but she fucked me over.
My arms itch and a dirty sensation squirms through me.
Not simply because she brought unknown men into our home and shared her body with them, but also for all the things she took from me, things I can’t even put into words yet.
I did everything in my power to please her, to change to suit her needs. Was I not enough?
No. She was never the woman I thought she was.
And I ignored all the warning signs because I was so desperate not to destroy another relationship.
My fear blinded me to the fact we didn’t have anything real at all, just a power play I let myself get tangled in.
Everything was always on her terms, her preferences, her expectations.
Piece by piece, I got dismantled into a robot.
Even my alpha spirit ended up in the doghouse.
Anger rises to choke my throat. How could I be so fucking stupid?
I scoff under my breath, swiping a rag over the mirror to break up my reflection. These realizations don’t lessen the pain burning in my soul.
Now everything’s slipped from my hand. My plans for the future, the way I imagined children filling the rooms in our house one day, even the future vacations we might’ve taken together.
Without that picture, I don’t know who I am anymore.
Did Maisy feel like this when I broke her heart?
I never cheated, but I was an immature turd who laughed at her dreams. If so, maybe this pain is well deserved.
If I could go back, I’d never trample on another person like that.
I’d also undo my wasted time with Tracey, if I could. But I can’t take any of it back.
Karma is a bitch, as they say.
Once the bathroom smells less like leaf litter and more like citrus breeze, I wash up to my elbows and wander to the kitchen.
Food lives here. If I open cupboard doors and chop things with a knife, a meal will form on the bench.
But honestly, even thinking about it is too much effort.
A few pieces of fruit sit in a repurposed takeaway box.
I dip my hand in and pull out whatever my fingers close around like a human claw machine. Just as soulless.
Maybe life is a giant claw machine. You think you’re pulling the controls, but then your prize drops into the pile and you realize it was all one big scam.
I eat the claimed kiwi fruit, getting halfway through before noticing I’m chewing fuzzy skin as well.
I stare at the chomped piece, the way my teeth marks plunge through the brown layer into the green heart.
No point trying to peel it now, and it’s not like I can taste anything. I throw the rest in my maw and chew.
My phone vibrates on the bench, rattling to one side. I drag it closer and press my thumb on the scanner before jerking away quickly as if the data within could jump out and bite me. Speaking realistically, it can. Twenty-five missed calls from Tracey, and nearly as many messages.
I glance around, looking for my suitcase.
Probably should find a place to stow it, since I’ll be here for .
. . a while. The idea stings. Crashing at Jeremy’s place isn’t fair on him, not when it’s so cramped here.
I’ll need to look for a house. Contact my employees to make sure the jobs get done without me.
And find my suitcase.
I amble through the room, looking for the big honking case that should be here.
When I don’t find it, I step outside, planning to check in my van.
Instead, I trip right over my case and crash down on the tiny porch, smashing my brother’s ridiculous gnome as I land.
My wrists flare with pain and my left shoulder aches.
“Fuck,” I mutter, sprawled over the abandoned bag.
Guess I unlocked the door and left the damn thing here when I arrived.
And Jeremy hasn’t been home to ask what it’s doing here.
Where is Jeremy? I don’t think I’ve seen him for a few days, but I can’t be sure how much time has passed since I arrived.
Did he say he was going away? His text message said something, but I’m not going near that phone again.
Not today. Maybe tomorrow I can stomach what’s on there.
Probably not tomorrow either.
By the time I’ve picked gnome guts out of my palm and got myself upright, I can’t even recall why I was looking for my suitcase.
I haul the stupid thing inside before brushing ceramic pieces over the edge of the porch.
The red-hatted ornament’s head survived the sudden death sentence, and the face above the white beard seems to glare at me.
You’re not the only one, little guy. At least he’s no longer giving guests the finger.
I pop the head back down on top of the spare key and shut the door.
Alone again with the oppressive heat, I hunt for the climate control remote. When the grill wheezes to life, I climb back into the bed and pull a sheet over me.
Sweat trickles in my arm pits and between my thighs, but the sheet soon absorbs it, leaving me with a strange sensation of cooled skin and boiling intestines. Trapped between burning and freezing. Sounds familiar.
I close my eyes.
I’m tired of being awake. Tired of caring. Maybe when I wake up, the nightmare will be over. But my heart tells me that’s impossible.
Most of all, I wish Jeremy was here.
I’m too fucking tired to think anymore, so I tug the sheet over my head and huddle in darkness. What’s the point anyway, when I’m simply getting what I deserve?