31. Stay #2
“That was long overdue.” I roll my neck over my shoulders, sighing as it cracks. I’ve released an unholy amount of tension, but it’s only made me aware just how much I was carrying. “I can’t wait to never see them again.”
“Don’t worry about them.” Simon grips my shoulders, fingers digging into my tight, sore muscles. “They’re not all that fun.”
“Says the guy who’s slept with all three of them.” I shrug out of Simon’s grasp, though the massage feels heavenly. “They must have been fun enough to fuck.”
“If they were fun, I’d still be sleeping with them.” His mouth dips to my ear. “If they were really fun, I’d be sleeping with all three of them at the same time.”
I swat him away. “You’re gross.”
Simon chuckles. “Truly disgusting. Wanna come back to my place? We can soak in the jacuzzi, let our muscles rest.”
“I can’t. Garrett’s picking me up soon.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“He picks you up all the time.”
“He does not pick me up all the time.” Sometimes he’s out of the country. “We live in the same building. It’s purely convenience. There’s absolutely nothing romantic between us.”
Simon’s eyes glide over my face, examining the authenticity of my words, I’d guess, but I’ve gotten fairly good at lying about this. “Really?”
“Just friends.”
“All right,” he whispers, palm curving around my nape as he tows me closer. “Well, your friend is here, looking ultra jealous, which is odd since you’re… just friends.”
My head snaps, finding Garrett hovering in the doorway, keys dangling from the tip of his pointer finger, other hand tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie as he watches us.
Deep crease in his forehead, full lips turned down in a frown, and a highly noticeable tic in his jaw, Garrett Andersen looks nothing like the goofy, sweet man I’ve come to know over the past months.
The sight alone is enough to make my stomach twist and knot.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I toss out, dashing toward Garrett, my smile brightening as I go. “Hey, big guy.”
The crease between his brows doesn’t diminish as he stares down at me, and when he finally whispers, “Hi,” I know well enough that something’s not right.
I grab his elbow and tug him toward his waiting car, desperate for privacy. “I missed you. How was your flight?”
“Fine,” he mumbles, and before I can ask him what’s wrong, he whisks me into my seat and closes the door.
It’s not my imagination that he stalls getting in, pretending to look for the keys he had in his hands a moment ago.
When he finally climbs in, the chill of the outdoors returns, stealing the warmth of his heated car.
The first thing I notice is the empty cupholders. Without asking, Garrett consistently shows up with a cinnamon bun cappuccino. He presses it into my hands, warming them on contact, and touches his lips to mine before he shifts into drive and asks how my day was.
It’s not the lack of coffee that bothers me, but the lack of everything else. Physical contact, fucking eye contact, conversation as we drive in silence, and I don’t know why.
“Is everything okay, Garrett?” I’m dying to hold his hand, but he keeps his glued to the steering wheel, and I miss his fingertip trailing over my thigh. “You seem upset.”
“Fine.” The single word is so low, I barely hear it.
My mind races, searching for something I’ve done wrong in the hours since we’ve talked. Garrett’s never been upset with me before, and the disconnection is heavy and staggering. We’re strangers all over again, tiptoeing around what we really want to say.
Until he opens his mouth.
“You gonna tell him to keep his hands off you, or should I?”
My heart skitters to a stop. “What?”
Garrett’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he keeps his eyes on the road. “I don’t like the way he touches you.”
“Garrett…Simon’s my dance partner. He has to touch me.”
“You know as well as I do he wants to be more than that. I can handle the way he touches you when you’re dancing, but I won’t tolerate him putting his hands all over you the rest of the time, like he thinks you’re his.”
“Okay, back up.” I swivel in my seat, hands braced in front of me. “What are you talking about? I’m not Simon’s. I’m not anybody’s.”
“Right,” Garrett agrees, clipped. “You’re happy being single.”
“Can you fucking look at me?” I snap. “Why are you upset with me?”
“I’m not upset with you,” he lies. “I’m reiterating a point you’ve made a couple of times now.”
“A point I’m not aware of, clearly, so why don’t you enlighten me.” I fold my arms over my chest and wait as he pulls into the parking garage, finding his spot.
“You don’t want to date an athlete. You don’t want to be in a relationship. You’re happy being single and on your own.” He throws each sentence out like it’s etched in stone, tendons flexing in his clenched fists. “You’ve said it three times now.”
“Three times?”
“When Gabby called you my girlfriend at Christmas, when we were at that club the other week, and a couple days ago when you told Carter you didn’t want to be tied down to anyone, that you were happy being on your own.”
My thoughts drift to my last visit with Carter and Hank, where Hank pestered me about letting someone in, finding my person the way Carter found his. But I’d already found my person; I just couldn’t tell them that.
“They were only words,” I promise softly, anger dimming. “I can’t very well say I’m sleeping with my brother’s best friend, can I? Nobody’s supposed to know about us.”
“And when you said to Simon that we were just friends, that our relationship was just convenient…were those only words too?” Though the words are harsh, there’s a vulnerability to him that simmers below the surface, like he’s about to crack wide open.
I don’t want him to break, but I do want him to let me in.
“Garrett,” I coax gently, laying my hand on his cheek. My heart aches when his gaze finds mine, sad, angry, and lost. “Are you jealous?”
His eyes flicker, and there’s that damn bob in his throat again as he looks away.
“I know sometimes you struggle to give your feelings words. I need you to talk to me right now. I’m listening.”
“I-I…I can’t…” His knee starts bouncing, fingers stretching over them before curling back into his palms. He shoves a hand through his hair, knocking his hat off and tugging on those golden waves. “I can’t think. I can’t talk. Fuck. I hate this.”
I take his hand in mine, squeezing gently. “Take a breath. I’m right here. I’ll wait.”
He blinks at me, once, twice, and then the words come rushing out.
“My sisters hate me. They need me, and I’m here, and I’m failing them, just like my dad failed me.
And I can’t…I can’t get a hold of him. And no one is answering their phone, and you…
” His beautiful eyes swim with pain as he looks at me.
“I called you because I-I…I needed you. And you weren’t there.
” The words are jagged, broken fractures that let me peek into this man’s big heart.
I take his face in my hands. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I’m here now. Your sisters love you, Garrett. I promise.” I push his hair off his forehead. “It must be hard when you’re so far apart. You’ll fix it.”
His eyes bore into mine. “What if it can’t be fixed?”
“Everything can be fixed.”
He hangs his head. “I’m not so sure about that.” His voice drops, so low I barely hear his next words. “Especially when you’re not on the same page.” He blows out a defeated breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Or even reading the same damn book.”
Why do I get the distinct feeling this is about more than his sisters?
Before I can ask, he shifts out of my grasp and steps out of the car.
Without a word, he takes my hand, swallowing it in his big one as he pulls me from my seat and leads me to the elevator.
Everything feels hazy and big, confusing and overwhelming.
He’s too quiet, and I don’t know the right words to fill the space, to take away his pain and make everything better and safe.
But I’ll figure it out, and I’ll start by making him a big mug of hot chocolate, like he always does for me.
Except when I prop my door open with my hip and kick my shoes off, Garrett doesn’t follow. He stands in the hallway, hands tucked in his pockets, looking at the floor.
“I’m not going to come in, Jennie.”
“What? Why? I’ll make hot chocolate. We can order in.
Or I can…I think I have the stuff to make spaghetti.
I can make spaghetti for dinner. Just tell me what you want.
” I hate everything about the desperation dripping from my tone, the way it tastes, the way it hurts, makes me feel weak, like I need him.
But I think I do, because I didn’t really find myself until I found him.
His eyes lift to mine, exhaustion stealing their sparkle. “I think…I think I want space.” The soft way he speaks the words, laced with guilt and regret, has my heart hammering against my chest, looking for a way out.
“Space?” My shoulders hunch as I curl into myself. “From me?”
“From this. It’s…I’m…” He rubs his neck, searching for his words. “I can’t think straight right now. I’m overwhelmed, I’m confused, and I’m tired. Fuck, I’m so fucking tired.”
“We can just relax.” I take his hand, tugging him forward. “We can curl up on the couch and—”
“Jennie, no.” Garrett shakes his hand free. His eyes are bloodshot, defeated, and mine begin to sting. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Things are…they’re different. I need some time to think, that’s all.”
A burning sensation crawls up my throat, one I can’t swallow down. “That’s what people always say when it’s easier than good-bye.”
The uncertain way he licks his lips contradicts his shaking head. “I’m not saying that word.”
“I don’t understand.” My chest rises sharply, eyes prickling. “You’re my best friend.”
His gaze holds mine, like he’s searching for any hint of duplicity. There is none. In a couple of short months, this man has become my best friend, my cheerleader, my rock. I don’t know how to handle losing him.
But I can see it, the anguish he wears, the heartache etched in his eyes, making it waver. Only I’m not sure why it’s there.
Until he swallows, thick and slow, and finally speaks his next words.
“It’s not enough for me anymore.”
I stagger backward as the words sink in.
Not enough? But…I’ve always been enough for him.
Tears well in my eyes, ready to spill. My fingers close around my tightening throat, trying to claw away the anxious thoughts, the fear that he’ll leave and take all of me with him even though I’ll be left standing right here, all alone, like I’ve been all my life.
I’ve shown him all of me, and he doesn’t want me.
Garrett’s hands close around my wrists, bringing me into his chest. He dips his face, his chest heaving in time with mine. “You are nothing short of perfect, Jennie.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be leaving.”
His lips part, eyes running over me, even as the elevator dings and springs open. Emily steps off, smiling brightly at us.
“Hey, lovebirds.”
Garrett’s mouth opens, but before he can say anything, his phone rings.
He digs it out of his pocket, and his sister’s name, Alexa, shines on the screen.
He curses under his breath, and when he looks back at me, his eyes swim with so much pain, confusion, heartache, I can’t separate it all.
I don’t want to be the cause of any of it. I want to help him through this.
“Garrett, I—”
His phone rings again, and he swallows. “I have to go. I’m sorry, Jennie.”
I don’t want him to apologize. I want him to stay.
He hesitates before cupping my jaw, thumb sweeping over my lower lip. He brings his mouth to mine in a kiss that feels so much like good-bye, one I’m not ready for, one I don’t want.
His warm hands fall away, leaving me feeling cold and exposed, his stare flooded with regret as it touches my face, like he’s memorizing the way I look.
Garrett brushes a fallen wave off my neck, kisses the tip of my nose, and with one last look, leaves me standing there as he brings his phone to his ear.
When the elevator door closes behind him, I meet Emily’s gaze.
“Hey,” she whispers. “You okay?”
My throat burns and I lick my lips, staring up at the ceiling.
And then it happens. My vision clouds. My nose tingles. No amount of blinking helps. My mouth opens to answer, chin trembling, but instead that first tear falls, followed by the second, and the third, all of them cascading down my cheeks, and Emily soars across the hallway.
She holds my quivering body tight to hers, and my words finally come, broken and shattered, just like me.
“You said he wanted me too.”