Chapter 11
Jesse
I’ve spent three months leading up to this moment and now it’s as if I’m having an out-of-body experience.
My tongue doesn’t want to work properly, and I don’t know what to do with my hands.
The car ride back to Redwood Bay isn’t that long, but it’s currently feeling like eternity the more time I go without being able to think of anything to say.
Part of me knew that Rico would never let me down. But another, very noisy part of my brain was convinced he wasn’t going to show today and that I’d be left out on my ass with no ride and nowhere to live.
The look he gave me when I finally forced myself out into the lobby…I’m still not sure what to make of it, to be honest. He just lit up, not to mention how he then hugged me and when he grabbed my hand and kissed it?
How am I supposed to react to that? Yeah, I guess he was playing up the doting husband role in front of the staff, but it didn’t feel forced or awkward in any way. My heart certainly thought his behavior was genuine.
As did other parts of my body.
I shift in the passenger seat and do my best not to think about that, but it’s hard.
Pun intended. Because how is he even more attractive than I remember?
I was already obsessed with him, so it seems impossible that I would underestimate his hotness, but here we are.
I snatch glimpses of his profile as we head down the highway, admiring his strong jaw and the way his large hands flex around the steering wheel.
I want those hands on me.
Devolving into a feral sex-crazed beast isn’t how I want to start my first day back in the real world, however. So I inhale then exhale slowly, rubbing my fingers against the denim of my jeans, focusing on the rough material to try and ground myself.
All the staff from the clinic warned me time and again how challenging the first few days are going to be, possibly even the first few weeks.
I know this. It’s not my first rodeo, after all.
But I’ve never been more determined to make sobriety stick, therefore I’ve been paying far more attention to all the advice they’ve given me.
Sticking to a routine in a controlled environment where I’m surrounded by support twenty-four seven was always going to be far easier than the chaos of regular life.
But that’s the important difference for me this time around.
I’m not going back to a crappy apartment by myself in a big, noisy city.
I’m not going to be working in a bar with temptation all around.
I’m not going to be butting heads with assholes every day who relish in telling me how worthless I am and maliciously want me to fail so I won’t ever be better than them.
I’m going to be with Rico. I’m going to be staying in cute little Redwood Bay. I’m going to have the chance to breathe and stay true to myself instead of automatically giving into the gremlins that have tormented me for so long.
The center also started me on some medication which I’ve never tried before, and it absolutely takes the edge off the cravings.
Luckily, it’s covered by Rico’s insurance, so I won’t have to pay a crazy amount out of pocket.
But it’s not a magic pill. I’ll still need to exert a lot of will power not to fall back into old destructive habits.
And I don’t even want to think about what will happen when Rico and I inevitably get divorced. But thankfully I won’t have to worry about that for a while.
At least I hope I won’t.
Another glance at my driver. The fact that he’s wearing the silly little bracelet I made for him makes my heart flip-flop. I don’t even think he’s doing it because he feels obligated, either. The way he reacted when he saw it is a memory I’m going to hold onto and cherish.
“So, um, how have you been?” I ask, unable to deal with the awkwardness any longer. Well, I’m feeling awkward. Rico seems okay, but maybe that’s just because he’s concentrating on the road.
“Uh, yeah, good, good,” he says, flicking his gaze my way briefly with a smile.
“The holidays were kind of quiet, except for the time me and the One-Thirteen took a trip down to San Diego for an evening. One of the guys, Sawyer, he’s in this amateur queer performing arts company and they put on a Christmas show.
We went to go watch him dance in heels and he even did a routine on a pole. ”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?” I ask. From what I know about firefighters, I would assume they’d all be kind of macho.
But Rico nods and grins. “We told him we were coming to heckle, but honestly he and everyone else were so good, we couldn’t have possibly teased him like that.”
“Wow,” I say, my eyebrows drawing together as I consider that surprising information.
I genuinely love being on stage. I enjoyed TV acting, but it’s a lot of stopping and starting.
There’s something pure in the relationship you have with your body when learning choreography.
The exhilaration of executing a well-rehearsed group number is its own kind of high.
Unfortunately, most stages come attached to bars, so I doubt that’s going to be something I can consider any time soon, if ever.
But the idea that there are places that offer adult classes—especially in queer spaces—makes me hopeful I could look into doing something for fun one day.
I want to ask how far the drive is to San Diego from here, but that would mean bringing up the subject of me potentially borrowing Rico’s car.
The car I tried to steal within twenty-four hours of him inviting me into his home.
And with my previous DUIs, I’m not sure what that would do to his car insurance.
Yeah, I think I’ll save that conversation for another time.
Rico carries on talking about some of the other stuff he’s been up to, mostly with his colleagues from the firehouse that sound to be actual friends.
That’s a weird concept to me. I’ve always just showed up to work, done whatever I have to do, then gone home again.
When I was little and that meant being on set, I thought those guys were my friends.
Fuck, I thought of them as family for a few years.
But as soon as the show ended and everyone disbanded, I stopped hearing from them all pretty much immediately as they went onto whatever project was calling them next and I just got…
left. Stuck. Once I was no longer an adorable kid, no one seemed to know what to cast me in, so I just started getting into trouble which meant my parents walked away from me and…
Yeah. We’ve talked a lot about my abandonment issues in therapy during my stay at the Sequoia Heights Center.
For the first time in my life, I’m not dismissing them.
It always felt safer and easier to say I didn’t care and tough everything out on my own.
But the truth is that massive insecurity has been crippling me for decades.
If I don’t acknowledge it, I can never work on it.
So I love that for Rico if he’s found a family with the other firefighters.
The more stories he tells, the more I’m feeling like I’m getting to know the gang.
I doubt I’ll ever meet them, of course. That would be too complicated to explain.
But at least Captain Valentine was at our little wedding.
I liked him a lot. If he’s the one in charge of the team, I can see how they’d be good eggs.
I’ve thought about him and Mrs. Bloom a lot while I’ve been away.
As far as I know, they absolutely thought Rico and I were really getting married, and they still showed up and supported him.
Even though they’d never even heard of me before let alone met me.
Even though I was a jobless junkie. Maybe they weren’t aware of that, but we certainly didn’t tell them I was working anywhere and at least Valentine knew about the insurance situation.
They still came. They were still kind and accepting. If this is the type of friendship group Rico has found himself in, I’m so happy for him.
And possibly a little jealous. I might have gotten sober, but I’m still kind of a selfish asshole at heart. Just a bit.
We pull up to Rico’s apartment complex and my skin crawls with awkward nervousness again. Even though my throat is clamping up, I know I need to voice the question I should have asked before we started driving.
Damn, I’m such a coward. I guess rehab can’t fix everything.
“So, um…” I croak as he glides into a parking spot. He kills the ignition then looks expectantly over at me. I can’t put this off any longer, though, so I gird my loins and just spit it out. “Imokaytostayherethen?”
For a moment, he simply blinks at me, and I worry he didn’t understand what I said and is going to make me repeat myself. It was mortifying enough asking once. But then his hand shoots out and grabs mine where I didn’t even realized I’d balled it up against my thigh.
“Jesse, what the hell?” he demands. I flinch and open my mouth to tell him that it’s okay, I have a contact number for a halfway house from the treatment center.
But he barrels on before I can get a word out.
“Of course you’re staying here. I’m so sorry.
It didn’t even occur to me that would be something you’d be uncertain about.
Adam knows you’re here and even sent me some stuff.
This is your home for however long you want, all right?
I mean it. And not just because we need to look like we’re married for insurance purposes.
” He laughs nervously. “You are welcome with open arms. I want you here.”
I press my lips together and look away from him with watery eyes. “Thanks,” I manage to whisper. The relief sweeping through me is dizzying, but also the gratitude toward this incredibly generous man and…
The love.