Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Britton
The more minutes that pass, and the longer I’m away, the guiltier I feel about how I left things between LoneStar and me.
I took the cowardly way out by leaving him a letter instead of dealing with things face-to-face like a grownup.
Several times I’ve picked up my phone, wanting to call him and make things right, but then my heart begins pounding in my chest and my hands get clammy and shaky, causing me to put the phone down.
I know that the more I put this off, the harder it’s going to be in the long run, but my mind and heart are at war with one another.
I’m not sure when doing the right thing became so hard, it’s something I’ve always pushed myself to do.
I think the issue here isn’t only that I lied to him, as if that’s not bad enough, but that I’m not proud of how I conducted myself. Usually, I think about what my parents would do and do the exact opposite, only this time, I am doing precisely what they’d do and it makes me sick to my stomach.
“C’mon, Britton, you can do this.”
Once again, I pull up my favorites list but instead of hitting LoneStar’s name, I choose Jersey’s.
She’s the safer bet. If anyone is aware of if he’s hellbent on making my life a living nightmare, it’d be her.
She’s the only one I trust at the compound to give it to me straight and not pussyfoot around the topic.
When she answers, it’s with a hiss. “Where are you, Britton?”
“Woah, sister. What’s got your panties twisted?” I ask, feeling all sorts of defensive. She’s never, not in all the time we’ve been friends, hissed at me like a scalded cat and I’m not sure how to handle this version of her. “Where’s the fire?”
“Red alert, red alert,” she screeches into the phone. “I don’t know what you left in that letter to LoneStar, but he is on a tear, Britton. Nothing is safe in his warpath. At first, everything was so-so, but the longer it’s been, the more erratic he’s acting.”
My throat drops into my stomach, and the more I swallow, the tighter that ball becomes. “He’s mad, huh?”
“Mad? Mad!” she squawks. “He’s beside himself, Britton. What on earth is going on between you two? He’s walking around like you kicked him in the junk.”
“In hindsight, I kinda did,” I admit, chewing on my bottom lip. “I called to get a lay of the land, to see if you think it’s safe for me to call him and explain things.”
“Explain what?” she asks, her voice still high-pitched. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“We got drunk and had sex,” I rush out, wanting to release that burden.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” she excuses. “Why did you leave like you did if that’s all that happened?”
“That’s not the bad part of what happened,” I continue, speaking low, hoping she doesn’t think less of me once she learns what I did. What I’m doing.”
“Did he… did he force you, Britton?”
“What?” I ask, now copycatting her squeal. “Of course, he didn’t, Jersey. What the hell?”
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “It’s the only thing I could think of that’d cause you to take off like the hounds of hell were chasing you.”
“Jersey, stop jumping to conclusions. We’ve talked about that, lady.
You’re going to get yourself into trouble one day if you keep it up.
No, he didn’t force me, I lied to him and was so damn ashamed of myself that I couldn’t stick around and look at him day in and day out without the guilt swallowing me whole. ”
“But you don’t lie, Britton. You don’t believe in dishonesty, it’s the one thing that gets you riled up.”
“I know!” I shout in exasperation. “It’s why I still can’t look at myself in the mirror. I’m disgusted with myself. I hate the person looking back at me so I steer far away from any I cross.”
“Mirrors?” she confusedly asks. “But they’re everywhere, Britton. You can’t avoid them forever, girl. You’re going to have to face yourself and ask for forgiveness. You aren’t perfect, you’re human, we all make mistakes.”
“Yeah,” I snort, rolling my eyes at myself. “But my mistake is monumental, Jersey. My lie can affect the rest of our lives.”
“When you’re ready to talk about it, Britton, I’m here to listen. Lord knows you’ve done it enough times for me. We’re family, remember?”
“I remember,” I whisper. “I’ll never forget that. You’re my sister, my best friend, the only person I can count on.”
“If you want my opinion, I think you need to call him and talk this out, Britton. Even if he doesn’t forgive you for your infraction, it may give you the peace of mind you need to forgive yourself,” she suggests.
“I know you’re right, Jersey. But every single time I place my finger over his contact, it just hovers, I can’t seem to force myself to press down on it,” I tell her.
“How many times have you told me to buck up and own my shit, Britton?”
“Too many to count,” I state.
“What is it you always say to me, Britton? Stop being an asshole, everyone has one and one is not more unique than another?”
“You sorta butchered that saying, but that’s the gist of it,” I say, laughing.
She giggles, then says, “I may have blundered how you say it, but at least you know what I’m talking about, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, choking up on the tears that refuse to fall. I lick my dry lips and gather my wits before continuing with our conversation. “I get what you’re saying, Jersey.”
“Don’t cry, Britton,” she pleads. “It’ll all be okay.”
“I hope you’re right about that, Jersey. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to show my face at the clubhouse again.”
“You can do this, Britton,” she encourages. “You’re the bravest person I know.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She gives me more credit than I’m due. I’m not brave, it’s a front. One I’ve had since I was little, a disguise I wore to keep myself from losing my marbles. If I hadn’t, I would’ve fallen prey to depression and who knows where things would’ve gone from there.
We end the call and I stand up from the couch and pace the living room.
Giving myself a pep talk, convincing myself that I can do this.
As I continue wearing a path in the carpet, I pull up his name in my contact list and hit the green dial button.
When he answers, I pause, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.
“Britton,” he growls, his husky voice causing shivers to race up and down my spine.
“You mad?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Mad doesn’t even begin to explain what I am,” he declares. “Disappointed tops off the list of things I’m feeling. How could you do that to me? I thought we were friends, Britt. Friends don’t flee, they stick.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” I admit, my rollercoaster emotions strangling me. Up, down, twist, turn, they’re all over the map. I can’t seem to steer them in one direction and it’s eating me up.
“You may have to figure it out,” he decrees. “Especially if–”
I stop him before he has a chance to complete that thought. “Can we not go there until there’s a reason to?” I beg. “I need to face one thing at a time, LoneStar.”
“Come back, Britton,” he orders. “Let’s deal with this together.”
“I’m not ready. I have some soul searching to do,” I confess. “Something about you twists my frame of thinking. Bends it to the point that it’s unrecognizable. I need to know what that is and fix it before we deal with what I did.”
“What you did,” he scoffs, “is lie to my face. But it’s not the worst crime you could have committed, Britton. We can work through it and figure out what freaked you out to the point that you went against everything you morally believe in. Don’t run, Britt. Face your fears and come back to me.”
“Can you give me some more time, LoneStar?”
“How long are we talking here, Britt? Two days, three weeks, several months? The longer you put this off, the harder it’ll be to deal with,” he states, repeating my earlier thoughts nearly verbatim.
“I can’t tell you that because I don’t know,” I answer, being as honest as I can. “But I promise you that I’ll stay in touch, and if things turn out the way we fear it will, I’ll tell you as soon as I find out.”
“Britton,” he sighs. “Your track record proves otherwise, woman. I’m gonna make you a promise that I won’t break. If you do end up finding out you’re carrying my kid, and you try to keep that from me, life as you know it will cease to exist. Don’t test me on this, because you will fail.”
“Don’t threaten me, LoneStar. I don’t do well with threats of that calibre.”
“It’s not a threat, darlin’, it’s a goddamn guarantee,” he reiterates.
“I’ll be in touch,” I avow before hitting the hang up button and tossing my phone on the couch.
I watch it bounce from the force of my throw before flopping back into the cushions and releasing a pent up sigh.
Tossing my arm up across my head and covering my eyes, I mutter, “Dammit.”
His impactful words float through my mind, “your past record proves otherwise”.
I can’t even be mad about him calling me out because what he said rings with truth. I’m a flight risk, but not this time, I won’t let myself. I have to be a big girl and face my fears.
Especially, if there’s a baby to consider because that’ll change everything.