CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Chip
The texts started coming in around the nineteenth of December.
Other than a brief birthday greeting last year, two weeks after getting dumped, I hadn’t heard a single word from John.
I never replied to his birthday text back then, and I hadn’t replied to the numerous ones piling up on my cell phone the past few days.
Trust me, I’d fantasized about a reunion a billion times.
I’d role-played, rehearsed, and dreamed about what I’d do or say if I ever saw John again.
The early thoughts were always the joy I’d feel if he came home and begged me to take him back.
Subsequent fantasies bordered on hate and anger that it hadn’t happened.
To this very day, I truly had no idea how I’d react.
The first text read that he wasn’t doing well in Seattle. He didn’t like city life. He missed his former pace in Missile. He claimed he didn’t have friends except the ones that came with his new partner. The messages of misery kept coming two to three times daily.
When the first text arrived, I stared at his name on the alert for several minutes before reading the message.
Perhaps six months ago, I would’ve been over the moon at receiving any type of communication from John.
Things changed. Time had worked its magic.
Even without the arrival of Van, I doubted I would’ve responded.
The decision to ignore him radically changed yesterday.
That message recognized the fact that I wasn’t responding to him.
He wondered why. He asked me to at least listen to him, give him a chance to explain.
With time, he believed I could forgive him.
Sure, I could forgive. But I knew I couldn’t forget.
However, this morning’s text forced me to confront reality.
John announced he was definitely coming back to Missile.
He’d broken up with the man he’d left me for and would be returning to his hometown.
He didn’t exactly say he wanted to be with me again, or planned on visiting me, but I wondered why he was suddenly texting.
I deleted the texts and set my phone on the kitchen counter.
Van was showering. He deserved to know that one of his biggest fears was about to happen.
I’d expected that if this day ever came, I’d be delighted at the news of John’s failure.
But as things turned out, I wasn’t delighted in the least. In fact, I dreaded the possibility of his returning to our childhood town.
“Your dad’s coming home, Pooch,” I whispered, rubbing his ears the way he loved. “I wonder if he’ll want you back?”
“What’d you say?” Van asked, coming out of the bathroom completely naked. “Were you on the phone, stud?”
I ran my eyes over his magnificent body. He was a vision to behold. I couldn’t tell you how he kept his six-pack, or how his chest was so pronounced. We hadn’t worked out since he got to town.
Of course, he’d only been here ten days. A fit person didn’t fall apart physically after that small amount of time. His short time in Missile, and my growing feelings for him, didn’t seem possible. As I continued to study his naked body, I wondered how my love for him had developed so quickly.
“You okay?” he asked, moving toward me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
What had been a developing erection across the room was deflating as he moved toward me; concern registered on his face.
I could lie and tell him all was fine. I could grab his hips and guide his cock to my mouth.
I could also swallow his cock in one slurp, but using sex to avoid telling him the news was not fair.
“Sit here, baby,” I said, patting my lap. He raised his eyebrows seductively and grinned. “Not for that,” I added.
Van didn’t sit on my lap. Instead, he crossed his arms and studied me carefully. “John’s coming back, isn’t he?” he half asked, half stated. I nodded, chewing on my lower lip.
I gestured to the phone. “He’s been texting me,” I revealed. “For three days now.”
I expected Van would speak up about why I hadn’t told him, or how unfair keeping such a thing from him was, but as usual, he went the opposite direction. I should’ve known a perceptive and sensitive soul like him would first make sure I was okay.
“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for my hand.
His free hand ran through my hair like a rake, pausing occasionally to massage the back of my neck. His touch was caring and exactly what I needed. Somehow, he was being the stronger person despite his biggest worry coming to fruition.
“I haven’t responded,” I said. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure how I feel.”
Van held his hand up and then hurried to the bedroom, retrieved a pair of boxers, and came back. He sat on a barstool next to me at the kitchen island. Somehow, him in boxers was impossibly hotter than when he was nude a minute ago.
Those thoughts, and the way my heart fluttered at the sight of him, were the only messages I needed to verify how I felt about him and about us.
John was coming back to Missile. The one thing I’d fantasized about for months.
But today, in a new dawn, my thoughts were about how much I desired Van.
How serious I was about my feelings for him. I wanted him so badly.
“Of course, you don’t know how you feel,” Van acknowledged. “Is Evan coming with him? Are you worried about how hard seeing them together might be for you?”
The next part was what worried me the most. “Evan isn’t coming with John, Van. John isn’t just coming for a visit either. I think he’s returning to Missile to live here.”
Van’s face lost all color as he pulled his hand back. I watched as the news registered. “Oh,” he whispered. “That is different than a visit.”
He stood and made his way to the kitchen window.
Like me, he’d developed a love for the spot that revealed an incredible view of the forest. I called the window the thinking place.
The latest presentation outside being snow-covered branches and icicles hanging from the roof, or an occasional deer family digging for grass under the snow behind the cabin.
I joined him, standing behind him and encircling his waist with my arms. “John coming home changes nothing,” I reassured. “And trust me, he’d never just show up here or at the mercantile.”
He didn’t respond to my declaration. Van was too wise to simply accept that something as monumental as John moving back would be a cakewalk. And then I remembered there was another man involved in this unbelievably coincidental foursome.
“What about Evan?” I inquired. “Do you think he might contact you, too?”
Van hesitated before answering, so I knew the question had crossed his mind as well. “No,” he stated. “He won’t bother.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He turned to face me, his eyes filling with emotion. “I wasn’t good enough for Evan then, and this won’t change that fact.”
My heart ached after he spoke. I wondered if he’d feel differently if Evan reached out and admitted he was wrong to leave him and that he was good enough. I was concerned I was simply a road trip rebound that he could do a U-turn from and race home to his true love?
I touched his cheek, just below a pooling eye. “Then why this?” I inquired, speaking with love and concern.
He placed a hand on my chest. “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, not to mention an insecure child, I’m afraid you’ll change your mind about John when he gets here,” he confessed.
“You’ll see him again, and all the memories of your life together will make you want him back instead of trying with me. ”
“That will not happen,” I argued. “Zero chance.”
“But I’m not from here. I don’t fit in like John does,” he pointed out. “Even Sadie said people think I’m too city and out of touch with small-town values.”
His argument was laced with the words of Sadie Hatfield. “That is one woman’s point of view, Van. One sad, lonely woman who had a plan that didn’t work out for her.”
“But everyone always saw you two together. Why wouldn’t they want the same thing?” he asked. “Maybe things would be easier if I left.”
“For whom?”
“For you,” he gasped, trying to move around me.
I blocked his path and gently pinned him back against the kitchen counter. “That’s not true,” I disagreed. “Trust me, if you leave, I’ll be worse off. Not better.”
Our hands joined between our half-naked bodies. I believed I’d said the words he needed to hear, but I wanted to strengthen my assurances. Van spoke about his insecurities in a way that was quite similar to how John had been in our relationship.
I, on the other hand, stuffed my insecurities down where they could fester and fuck with my psyche. Back then, no matter how hard I tried to be open and reveal my lack of confidence, I just couldn’t do it. Most likely because I hated the idea of appearing weak.
“You should know I’m afraid you’ll leave this town,” I began. “You should also know I don’t think I deserve you.”
Van stared at me quizzically, shaking his head, about to try to hush me, but I placed my finger to his lips so I could continue.
“I also believe you are better than I am. Smarter. Enlightened. Intelligent. College-educated. Cultured. Friendlier. And definitely too good looking to choose a sap like me. You are soooo much better than I am, Van. So much better. And you deserve to be with the absolute best version of someone deserving of you.”
“Are you done? Because that’s a lot,” he stated. “But you need to understand the best person for me would be you. I know, I know. We only met ten days ago,” he added. “So how could any of these feelings be possible?”
“Ask the messenger who sent you my way,” I teased, lifting my hands and gesturing around the cabin. “Maybe someone, something, somewhere, truly wanted us to meet. Do you ever think we both deserve this chance at love again?”
He smiled, apparently accepting the argument that we deserved what we were experiencing. Our love, and any relationship we expected to build together, would be hard fought. That much was evident. I also knew anything worth having would be hard work, no matter what I felt about us being deserving.
“Maybe John just wants to live here again,” Van said. “He grew up here. His wanting to be around family and friends makes sense,” he added, apparently trying to come to terms with his return, perhaps convincing himself John was no threat.
But I wasn’t so sure. John’s texts didn’t exactly say he wanted another chance with me, but he did ask for my forgiveness. Wouldn’t getting my forgiveness mean we’d start over? I was confused. Perhaps as much as Van appeared to be. But I knew in my heart John wasn’t my future.
My desire to gloss over that fact and take a wait-and-see attitude was selfish. I’d vowed that if I were given another shot at a committed relationship, then truth and openness would be a requirement. The decision was obvious.
“I’m not sure, but I think John’s messages mean he wants me back.”
I let the revelation sit right there. I avoided adding any other defense and what my actions might be if John returned, or made declarations of love for Van. What I revealed was the truth, but it had nothing to do with what I wanted when John returned. I had no reason to defend myself.
My limited experience with relationships, having just the one, still allowed me to establish ideas of how most folks would handle a situation like this. I assumed people would protest or carry on about how the other person should feel, but I wasn’t going to try to convince Van who I was.
I desperately needed him to believe I was a good man, like him, who was only human. A man who could be expected to be wise enough to understand I didn’t deserve what my ex did to me.
“I’m going to choose to trust you, Chip,” he declared. “I want to believe you’ll choose me, so I’ll do my very best to deal with what’s possibly coming.”
“And one more thing,” I continued. “I’m insecure as well, and like I said before, I’m afraid Evan will want you back now that John left him.”
“Like I said, not a chance,” he began, diverting his eyes when his phone began ringing from the coffee table. “Hang on a second. Lemme grab that, and then I want to discuss this more.”
Van hurried to the tree stump I used as a coffee table. After picking up the phone, his eyes widened when reading the caller’s ID. Instead of accepting the call, he turned the screen to face me. The screen read Evan.