Jess #2
I nod. “I’m sure. But you’re the man for the job.”
“You think so?” he asks, shaking his head. “Sometimes I’m not so sure.”
“Jarrett, I’ve never met anyone so passionate about giving back to the community, about using their political knowledge for good instead of personal gain. I don’t know if you know this, but most politicians are skeezy little assholes.”
“I can be one of those, too.”
I snort. “No, you can’t.”
“I was to you.”
His words shock me silent, and I look down at the bar on a shrug. “I wasn’t exactly girlfriend of the year either.”
Neither of us have anything to say after that, and for a while, we just sit there and look around the bar, watching college students dance and party like they’ll be forever young.
I’m smiling at a girl hustling a group of guys at the pool table when Jarrett laughs beside me.
I glance over, and he’s still chuckling to himself, but his eyes are on where his hands are wrapped around his glass.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t nothing me,” I say, nudging his elbow. “What are you giggling like a schoolgirl about?”
He cracks his neck, glancing up and beyond the bar before he smirks again. “Just remembering.”
“Remembering?”
He nods toward the back of the bar before arching a brow at me. “That closet, though…”
I frown at first, wondering if I missed something, but when I follow his gaze to the far side of the bar by the bathrooms, all the blood rushes to my face.
The closet.
Halloween.
I was playing games, and he dragged me in there and fucked me senseless to remind me just how much I belonged to him, even when we couldn’t be together.
“Oh, God,” I murmur, burying my face in my hands again as Jarrett lets out a bark of a laugh.
“You have to admit, that was fun.”
“Oh, fun is one word for it,” I say, smiling when my eyes find his.
And maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the low lighting of the bar and the deep bass of the music thumping through me. But in that moment, looking up at Jarrett, I can remember exactly what that night felt like.
I can remember his hands gripping me with enough force to leave bruises.
I can remember his voice husking in my ear.
I can remember the long length of him sliding inside me, the pitch dark of the closet, the hot panting of our moans mixing together in the most sinful dance.
Kade’s face flashes in my mind, and I clear my throat, shaking my head fiercely and closing my eyes tight against the guilt rolling my stomach.
“Uh, I think I should probably get going,” I say.
“Feeling okay?”
“Not really,” I admit.
“Let me drive you home.”
“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head as I stand and wave the bartender over to take my card. “No, no, really, it’s okay.”
“Jess, you shouldn’t drive right now.”
“I can get a cab.”
Jarrett stands then, leveling his warm brown eyes with mine. “Jess, please. I don’t want you getting into a cab by yourself like this. Just let me take you home.”
I swallow, because the fact is, I really don’t want to be in a cab by myself, but I also feel like spending any more time with Jarrett in the state I’m in is far more dangerous than anything a cab driver could do to me.
Still, I nod, conceding.
And after we pay our bills, we’re out the door and in his truck.
***
I knew I was drunk, but I didn’t realize just how drunk I was until the car ride back to my place.
The streetlights blurred as Jarrett drove us downtown, and I had to rest my head against the cool glass of his truck and close my eyes to keep from vomiting. Neither of us spoke a word the entire ride, and by the time he parks below my building, I’m certain throwing up is inevitable.
Jarrett hops out first, jogging around to open my door and help me out of the truck. He hoists my arm up around his neck and secures his around my waist, taking most of my weight as he guides me inside.
“I got you,” he promises.
It feels like a dream, or a movie, or someone else living my life as Jarrett digs for my key fob in my purse and pushes my floor number on the elevator.
I barely remember the ride up or us walking inside, but somehow, my eyelids flutter open and I’m in my bed in my bra and panties with my bathroom trashcan pulled up next to my bedside table.
I groan. “God, I’m such a mess. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Jarrett says from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. When I peek up at him, he’s smiling. “You’ve always been so cute when you’re drunk.”
“It’s going to be real cute when I throw up.”
“I’ll hold your hair back if you need.”
I smile, and then my eyes close again, and I’m not sure how long I lie there, how much time passes before I wake from an almost sleep to Jarrett brushing my hair off my face.
“Hey, can you lean up long enough to take these Advil and drink this glass of water?”
I nod with my eyes still closed, and though it takes all my energy, I manage to swallow the pills and chug almost all the water before I’m settling back down into my pillows.
“That should help in the morning,” Jarrett says.
“Thank you. I already feel better.”
He smiles. “Good.”
Jarrett stands then, adjusting the trashcan closer to the bed just in case before he heads toward the door to see himself out.
Except when he gets there, he stops.
Even through my drunken haze, I can see how white his knuckles are where they grip the door handle, how labored his breathing is as he stands there at the precipice, but doesn’t walk all the way out.
“Jarrett?”
“I got your text that night, you know,” he says suddenly, turning to face me with his nostrils flaring. “When you said you’d always love me.”
I swallow, eyes wide open now, and I scoot myself to sit upright in my bed, clothing the sheets to my chest.
Suddenly, I feel very, very sober.
“You did?”
He nods. “I texted you back, but I take it you had already blocked me, because I kept getting a notification that the text couldn’t be delivered.”
I breathe in.
I breathe out.
In the darkness of my room, the lights from the city are the only thing illuminating where Jarrett’s silhouette is still framed in my doorway.
“What did you say?”
He swallows, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed again. I can see his eyes now, even if faintly, and I can see the pain in them when he whispers, “I said I’d always love you, too.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, and I want to slap myself across the face for the way my heart jolts at his admission.
“And did you mean it?” I ask softly.
He blows out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head, and then he leans in, closer, closer, until his forehead is pressed against mine. His warm hand wraps around the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair.
I suck in a sip of air and hope it’s enough to sustain me, because it’s impossible to breathe now.
“I did,” he whispers, his warm breath washing over my lips. “I still do.”
I can’t hold back the whimper that escapes me then, and I squeeze my eyes shut as Jarrett’s hand squeezes the back of my neck.
“Jarrett, I—”
“I know,” he says, pulling back so suddenly I nearly fall off the bed at the loss of his warmth. He stands just as quickly, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “It’s too late. I know. I fucked up and I lost my chance, and now you’re with Kade.”
I open my mouth to say something, but find I have nothing more to say than what he just did, so I swallow and close my lips once more.
“And I’m happy for you,” he says. “I am. My brother is one hell of a guy, and I know he’ll treat you right.”
Again, I’m speechless. Even with a million thoughts racing in my head, I have nothing to say.
“I’m sorry if I… I shouldn’t have…” He shakes his head, and then with one last glance at me, he nods toward the door. “I’m going to head out. Goodnight, Jess.”
But I just sit there with the sheets clutched to my heart, eyes dry from not blinking, stomach cramping for a completely different reason now.
I think he’s already downstairs and in his truck by the time I finally respond.
“Goodnight.”