21. Jewel
Chapter twenty-one
Jewel
Tears cloud my vision as I rush back to the clinic. It’s closed now, but I have my own key, and it’s a lot closer than my apartment. My heart is cracking open, too full to hold all the emotion. I need to be alone before the first tears fall.
With a thud, I crash through the door into my room, barely making it to the chair at my desk before collapsing into it.
Rivers of tears run down my cheeks, separating into multiple tracks before dripping off my chin and into my hands.
Scrunching up a bunch of tissues from the box on my desk, I dab furiously to stem the flow.
This hurts far worse than when we said goodbye in Southampton, or when I finally deleted his name from my contacts. But back then, I didn’t fear for his safety like I do now. Each breath is pulled from my chest as if it were my last, and panic takes hold of my lungs and squeezes.
The thought that Will could just be gone as quickly as my father had been taken from me never even entered my head.
Why would it? He’s physically fit and strong, in the prime of his life.
And normally, that would be enough for most men.
But not Will, who walks toward danger like regular folk walk to the shops.
“Jewel?”
“Aaahhh.” I jump up, banging my knee on the table. “Fuck.”
“Are you all right?” Cara asks, rushing to my side as I double over and flop back into the chair. My hand, filled with sodden tissue, goes to my chest.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I stutter, rubbing my knee while still trying to manage the remnants of my ugly crying jag.
“Sorry. But I thought you left to meet Will.” She spins my chair with me in it to face her. Her brow creases with concern. “What happened?”
“I did meet him. And we talked.” My breath hitches. The tears may have dried, but my fragile emotions are still hovering on the surface like a freshly healed wound that, with the lightest bump, would bleed freely again. Will could leave a permanent scar on my heart.
“Will told me he wanted to be with me, and I told him I needed time and left.”
Cara’s expression urges me to go on without her having to say a word. That’s the kind of friend she is, giving me the space to unload at my own pace.
“He didn’t call because he and his team were stuck somewhere with no way of communicating.”
Guilt at not having waited long enough for him sits like a rock in the pit of my stomach. But I can’t unpack that right now when I’m sinking into a chasm of despair with the knowledge that his work is super dangerous.
“He was shot. And s-stabbed.” My thoughts become words that tumble out of my mouth in no logical sequence, not even formed into sentences. But I can’t stop the flow.
If Cara’s mouth wasn’t wide open, she’d probably have questions that I’ve got no answers to. Or worse, she’d be asking me why I ran away.
“Hey, take a breath,” she says, and her calm tone goes a long way to soothe the worst of my fever-pitched distress.
The deep breath shuddering in and out of my body is another step toward me regaining my composure.
“Good. Now let’s start from the beginning.” She pulls the small stool beside my desk closer and sits. “Go on.”
I take her through my conversation with Will, and for once, she doesn’t mention my habit of self-sabotaging every relationship. It probably wouldn’t even be something she hasn’t said before anyway, because this is what I do.
A pattern of behavior that only Will has managed to break in the past. The only man who supported me while showing me I had the strength to move beyond the lowest point in my life.
Who gave me the fortitude to handle the practicalities of packing up my family home.
And then, in his arms, chased away the loneliness that threatened to swamp me with the overwhelming sadness of loss.
At some point during my retelling, the tears dry, and I sit up taller in my seat.
Cara’s brow furrows. “What happens now? He’s giving you time, but what do you plan on doing with that?”
That’s the problem, I don’t know. If I’m going to be with Will, I need to be clear about what that means. And if I’m going to walk away, I need to know that one, six, or twelve months down the line, I won’t regret my decision. Cara is still waiting for my response.
“I’m not sure. But I need to seriously consider everything first. Tonight, I’m going to work it out in my head, then I’ll go see him tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you going on a second date with Henry tonight?” Cara asks.
“Oh my God … I forgot.” My hand covers my open mouth, stifling a groan.
Was it really only ten days ago that I reluctantly agreed to that date?
It completely slipped my mind, usurped by a torrent of emotions over Will’s return.
What a mess.
“I’m such a bitch,” I burst out so loudly that Cara jumps back. “I’m going on a date with one man while I’m in love with another.”
Both of us sit stunned with our jaws hinged open and eyes nearly popping out of our heads. I slap a hand over my mouth before any more truths fly out. It’s impossible to know who’s more surprised by the revelation, me or my friend.
“I’ve no idea where that came from.” The words are muffled through my fingers.
“It sounds like you might have already made your choice with Will.”
“No, I haven’t. That’s my heart, not my head saying that. I need to reconcile those internal voices before I make a decision.” Again, thoughts of Will stepping into danger ping around in my head. “But what I do know with absolute certainty is that Henry isn’t the man for me.”
Settling for the safe option will never be the right choice for me. And beside Will, Henry fades into the background. I fold my arms onto my desk and drop my head onto them.
“Should I go on the date with Henry to let him down? Or cancel?” Indecision knots my stomach. I didn’t want this date in the first place, and I want it even less now. But Henry doesn’t deserve to be caught up in this mess.
“Go on the date with Henry.”
That’s not what I expected her to say. I sit up straight and stare at my friend for a moment. “Really? You think I should.”
“Yes. If nothing else, it might bring you clarity. Do you want to continue dating people like Henry, the quiet, safe options, or Will, the wildcard who lights you up like you’re a Christmas tree?”
“I just don’t want to get hurt again. You know what a mess I was when Will disappeared. What if next time he doesn’t come back when I expect him? I’ll now be imagining he’s lying hurt somewhere. Or worse.” A shuddering sigh slips out of my mouth.
She leans forward, placing a hand on each of my arms, and gives me a little shake. “You, my friend, are stronger than you think.” She releases her hold and then stands.
She spins on her sneaker and strolls to the door. “Call me tomorrow morning and tell me how it goes.”
Cara is being overly optimistic about my ability to make a decision about Will and me that quickly. But I appreciate her confidence.