Chapter 18 Hestia
HESTIA
It wasn’t until I reached Denver on the smaller plane that I had officially cried myself out.
Every time I thought it was under control, something would echo through my mind – Lottie’s cool stare as she told me I just wasn’t choosing this, that I was lying to myself.
Or the raw, unfiltered pain in Jesse’s face as he realized I wasn’t choosing him either, that I was about to walk away from us with no knowing when or if I could return.
Even knowing that he loved me, needed me.
Gritting my teeth to it as I settled into my seat for the much longer leg back to London, headphones on, I’d almost made it when one of Jesse’s favourite tracks began playing.
After weeks of country music slowly trickling through my playlists, my music app was now suggesting more – and this one, ‘Something in the Orange’, was one Jesse had played many times in his truck.
It hit me like a brick to the chest as a sudden onslaught of vivid detail washed over me.
All of the times leading up to now when I’d felt the love he’d just declared, in his touch, the way he kissed me like it was something he needed.
I realized I knew it, recognized the feeling so easily, because it was everything I needed too.
And for the sake of Cal, someone I knew now had never even come close to meaning anything like Jesse to me – for a business I’d run away from in the first place, unable to bear the thought of working alongside his chaos – I’d just thrown away the one person that I’d ever really, truly fallen in love with.
Curling myself into the window, I covered myself with the blanket and sobbed in silence, only stopping as exhaustion took over long after we’d taken off. An uneasy, dream-laced sleep followed as I crossed the ocean that now lay between us.
Arriving back in London among the grey skies, the soft patter of rain on the train windows as we sped from west to east, I felt numb.
Everything felt small and enclosed, from the heavy clouds overhead to the narrow roads and tiny cars – not a Ford pick-up truck in sight.
The sheer volume of people crowded onto the tube was suddenly claustrophobic, their glances at my clothes – my cowboy boots, Wranglers edged with rodeo dust, and cowboy hat on my lap – making me feel as though I’d landed from another planet.
Sighing, I buried myself in opening some of the messages that’d come through since I’d landed. There were four from Lottie. My heart fluttered at the thought of her at home right now, maybe even prepping coffee or having breakfast with Jesse.
I miss you already.
I’m sorry if I was harsh before. I just thought, somehow, you might just stay for good. I know it’s stupid but I thought my Hallmark movie life might just extend to you too.
I love you, Hes. Call me when you’re home xxx
Cole asked me to tell you that he got Jesse home after you left. He didn’t ride. x
My eyes filled instantly, this time through relief.
The darker thoughts that’d edged in, the ones that tortured me in the black silence between sleep and numb reality, had been lined with the possibility of him riding.
That somehow he’d forced his way back past Cole and got back on the bull, not caring whether he made it through or not.
I shivered at the thought, the ramifications of any element of carelessness on a killing machine like those bulls.
Taking a breath, I opened a message from Diane telling me that Cal had just been released home and was being looked after by Becca. She was offering me the spare room at her place, a few tube stops up from mine and Cal’s, just in case I preferred.
Her offer was kind and meant in good faith, but I couldn’t kick the feeling it left me with; the inference that I might somehow get in the way of Cal and his new relationship, in the flat we co-owned.
All of my belongings were still there – the old spare bedroom had morphed into my bedroom when we’d ended our relationship months ago.
As the tube hurtled through central London, that feeling grew, overtaking the sadness below it until it turned, curdling to anger.
I knew it was partly aimed at myself, but a big fat chunk of it was for Cal.
For barely being able to act like a functioning adult and step up when I needed him, as a business partner if nothing else.
More than that, even as I tried to temper the feeling with empathy, knowing very well how it felt to have your mental health on the edge, I couldn’t quite reconcile this experience with what had happened before.
Last time he’d ended up in hospital, after deliberately overdosing himself on God knows what, he’d been in for two weeks. Now he was out within forty-eight hours?
Finally dragging my case off at my stop, the rain seeping through every fibre of my clothes, I walked through familiar streets as a stranger.
I almost knocked as I reached our navy blue door, then paused with my hand poised above the original Edwardian brass handle and pulled out my key instead.
This was still half my place, Becca or not.
Inside, it was quiet, and as I reasoned he might still be resting or asleep, I left my case at the bottom of the steep stairs ahead, planning to come back for it later.
With a sad smile, I realized only someone like Cole or Jesse would be able to lift it without dragging on the noisy wooden steps, even if they could fit up the narrow staircase.
Pausing halfway up, catching what sounded like a brief animal noise, I frowned. Cal couldn’t keep a fucking cactus alive, I puzzled, resuming my steps up, bracing myself to be introduced to some kind of pet, one that would inevitably end up being donated to a friend.
The living room door at the top was closed, and I used my body weight to push against it, remembering how much extra effort the heavy fire door hinge needed.
As it swung open, my eyes fell on anarchy. Food wrappers, pizza boxes, cans and glasses strewn across every surface, and in the corner, the TV on but silent, a grainy porno playing out the story of two women clearly having a much better time than me.
Blissfully unaware of my presence, like a horny mirage on the sofa opposite, was Cal, complete with a blonde woman sitting on his face, making the same noise I’d heard on the stairs as she pumped his dick in her hand.
I was temporarily stunned. Clearly, his imagined sickbed was nothing more than a fucking figment of Diane’s imagination. It was a few seconds before I gathered myself, the first inklings of rage bubbling up through my tiredness.
I formed a fist, letting the door rest against my boot. I figured it was only polite to knock.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ I yelled as I banged on it once, then again. I watched with grim satisfaction as the blonde half screamed, abandoning Cal’s cock to cover her chest, leaping back as he scrambled, wide-eyed, to figure out what the hell was going on.
‘This what the hospital prescribed, then?’ I asked, not bothering to look away as the woman ran into his bedroom, Cal pointlessly covering his lap with a cushion. ‘I had no idea eating someone out was medicinal.’
‘Jesus fucking Christ, Hestia,’ he panted, ruddy exertion across his cheeks as he ran his hands through his dark hair. Any hint of a sickly, pallid hospital complexion had clearly magically disappeared between the woman’s legs.
‘Feeling better, then?’ I asked, folding my arms. When he just gaped at me, I shook my head, not bothering to hide my disgust. ‘So did you lie to your mum about being ill? Or is she in on whatever this fucked-up hoarder-sex chaos is?’
‘What? Neither,’ he finally replied, getting up and promptly forgetting the cushion, sending him scrambling.
‘Oh Cal, for fuck’s sake, I’ve seen your dick more times than I ever care to remember,’ I sighed, suddenly exhausted. ‘Now, which one is it? You better start talking really fucking quickly before I call her and ask.’
I pulled out my phone, tapping the screen with the tips of my nails as his eyes widened in horror.
‘I can absolutely explain,’ he began, stopping as the woman emerged from his room. Other than the hair, her look was eerily similar to mine – or what mine had been before I’d left London.
‘You never did have much imagination, did you, Cal?’ I mused, rolling my eyes as she stared. ‘I take it you’re Becca,’ I added, too exasperated to even attempt niceties.
‘Yeah, and who the hell are you?’ she snapped, folding her arms as Cal groaned.
‘No one. You should go,’ he said, at the same moment that I snarled, ‘I’m the one who picked out the sofa you were just fucking on. The one paying half the fucking mortgage.’
There was a pause, her eyes sliding to his.
‘Just let me put some clothes on,’ Cal said, holding up his hands to me as he glanced back at Becca. ‘I can’t do this naked.’
‘That ship sailed a while ago,’ I retorted, rolling my eyes.
She glared at me. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re trying to do, but you can’t just walk back in here. It took him ages to get over you. We’re together now.’
I couldn’t help it as a laugh bubbled up at the thought of wanting him – this. I gazed around the miserable turmoil I’d lived in with him for years, blanking it out with more hours in the studio and local bars than I’d realized.
‘Honey, he’s all yours,’ I replied, an uncomfortable jolt as I heard Jesse’s voice in the words. ‘Cal, I’m going to the studio. If you can keep your dick in your pants long enough, meet me down there. We need to talk.’
‘Fuck – Hestia, wait,’ he yelled from his room; our room, once.
‘No, don’t think I will,’ I called back, turning in the doorway to face the stairs, Becca’s glare still on my face.
‘Best of luck,’ I added, not waiting for a response as I walked back down the stairs and grabbed my bag.
I pulled it outside as Cal’s footsteps thundered down the stairs behind me, cut off as I slammed the front door shut.
I pulled out my phone again, preparing to call Diane. Instead I saw another message from Lottie.