Chapter 23
After work the next day, Felix knocked on Jo’s door and was greeted by a string of curse words.
“Hang on!” she yelled. “Shit-damn-it-fuck.”
“Take your time!” he responded with a laugh. When she wrenched the door open, a tantalizing aroma of garlic, onion, and roasted chicken hit him square in the face. His mouth watered.
Jo was pink-cheeked, barefoot, and wearing a lavender tank top and cobalt blue scrub pants. Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot, the baby hairs around her forehead sticking up. She was devastatingly adorable.
She didn’t move from the doorway. “Can you go get me a quart of milk? Mine boiled over.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Whole milk, please. Door’ll be unlocked.”
With that, the door closed in his face, and Felix fell a little bit more in love with Jo. “Text me if you need anything else,” he called, then he traipsed down the stairs along the wall of her building.
Smiling to himself the entire time, he picked up some milk at the nearest store and soon returned to her apartment. He knocked again as he let himself in, holding up the milk in triumph. Jo whirled around from her spot at the stove, gratitude evident on her face.
“Have we done the ‘hero’s calling’ joke to death yet?” he asked. “Or may I still say it?”
“You saved dinner,” she said. She took the carton and popped up on her toes to peck his cheek. “You can make any joke you want.”
“It smells wonderful,” he said as she poured milk into a measuring cup next to the stove. “How can I help?”
Jo laughed—a sarcastic “ha!”—and plopped a hunk of butter into a wide pan. “Gorgeous, do you see the size of this kitchen? It barely holds one person. You can keep Merry company.” She waved vaguely in the direction of the couch, where Merry was stretched out on his favorite orange blanket. “It’ll just be a few more minutes. The sauce comes together fast as long as I don’t get ambitious and heat the milk on the stove first.”
Felix rolled up his sleeves as he joined Merry on the couch. The cat stirred and glared at him, tail flicking. Felix apologized for the disruption. He caught Jo grinning at them as she stuck the milk carton in the fridge. Merry’s eyes drifted closed again, the feline equivalent of forgiveness. Felix scritched him behind the ears until he purred.
True to her word, Jo had dinner on the table in short order: pasta primavera with chicken in a creamy, garlicky sauce; toasted focaccia drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar; spinach salad; and Felix’s favorite pinot grigio. Felix also spotted a tray of fresh brownies on the kitchen counter. He busied himself with opening the wine and pouring them each a glass while Jo dished up pasta and salad.
“Here’s to the successful launch of Monsters and Mythology night,” Felix said, raising his glass. “And to the amazing people who made it happen.”
“Cheers,” Jo said and clinked her glass against his.
They sipped their wine and dug into the exceptional food. Felix groaned at the first bite, making Jo giggle and blush. They talked about her day, including her lunch break with Vanessa. Apparently, her co-worker couldn’t stop talking about how much fun she’d had at Leni’s table. Felix had been pretty focused on his own game, but he hadn’t been able to ignore the other group’s raucous laughter that frequently drowned him out. He wasn’t that kind of GM; he didn’t inspire such reactions from his players that way Jo and Leni did. He’d even caught a couple of people glancing over at Leni’s table enviously when that laughter erupted over and over again. Disappointing patrons like that really bothered him, but luckily, he wouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer.
“How was your meeting with Warren?” Jo asked as she refilled their wine.
“It went great,” he replied. “He’s convinced that MnM night will be the perfect talking point when he speaks to the county’s budget committee in September. He invited me to join him at that meeting.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jo interjected. “That reminds me. Vanessa said she took some pictures last night. Can I have her email them to you? For the newsletter or the committee or whatever?”
“Absolutely. That’s brilliant,” Felix said, helping himself to more salad. “Warren also wants to expand to two nights a week instead of one.”
Jo grimaced. Not the reaction he expected. “I wouldn’t do that. You’ll just split the attendance. And if the games don’t look well-attended, fewer and fewer people will keep showing up. You need to—” She cut herself off and shrank back. “Sorry, you didn’t ask what I thought.”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze, but the apprehension he could read on her face twisted his stomach. Don’t do this to me, Jo.
“You know I value your opinions about MnM,” he said softly. “Please continue. What do we need to do?”
She still hesitated. Felix held in a sigh and waited for her to be ready. She nibbled at her bread before responding. “It might be worth suggesting to Warren that you build up a core group of regulars first, see who shows up again after the first week or two. Last night went really well, but there are bound to be people who won’t come back.”
Felix pictured those jealous, dissatisfied players at his table again. Hopefully his piss-poor GMing hadn’t ruined MnM for them completely.
“There may be a couple of people,” Jo continued, “who commit to coming every week. But in my experience, most SWOP players show up once or twice a month. Try not to change anything until you know what to expect each week. Besides, GMing once a week is hard enough. Trust me, you don’t want to prep multiple games a week.”
She made excellent points. She had to know that, didn’t she? Felix reached across the table, palm up. Jo set down her fork and took his hand. “Thank you, Jo. I’m sure you’re right. I’ll pass that along to Warren.”
A relieved smile flickered over her lips. She gave his hand a quick squeeze and returned to her meal. They ate in silence for a moment before Felix spoke up again. “I had another meeting today.”
“With who?”
“Vanessa’s dad, Greg.”
She cocked her head. “I’m surprised Vanessa didn’t mention that.”
“It all happened rather quickly,” Felix said. “He emailed me, and when I called him to set up a meeting, we ended up talking things over right then. He wants to sign on as a weekly GM for us.”
“Fantastic!” she cried.
“It is,” he said. He paused before continuing, weighing the best approach for what came next. “Jo, would you consider GMing weekly too?”
Jo’s brow knit together. “Why?”
“I know you said no the night we met because you wanted a break from MnM. But you’ve been so happy these last couple of weeks, both at Indi-Con and helping with the launch. I wanted to ask again in case you changed your mind.”
“But why do you need me to GM at all?” she asked with a shrug. “Like I said, you aren’t going to have two dozen people every week. You and Greg will have it covered. You don’t need me.”
Felix’s mouth went dry. He licked his lips, which didn’t help since his tongue felt like sandpaper. He took a swallow of wine, but even that was dry. “Warren and I agreed that I would take on more of an organizer role for game night. I won’t be GMing anymore.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I’m sorry he made you change roles. That sucks. Is it okay if I think about it first?”
Shit, she misunderstood him. He couldn’t blame her; his phrasing was pretty damn cagey. He took another stab at it. “He didn’t make me change roles, Jo. It was my idea. I… I don’t particularly like GMing, and I’m aware it’s not my strong suit. It does our patrons, and the program, a disservice to have me run a bad game every week.”
“Felix, what are you talking about?” Jo’s breath quickened, and his chest went tight. She shook her head vehemently. “Maybe you need a bit more practice, but you’re not a bad GM. And you like running combat—you told me so.”
“I do like combat, but the things I like aren’t conducive to running a compelling, fast-paced game,” Felix explained. “No one wants to sit around and watch me strategize about monster attacks. Especially not when Leni is right there, acting out a sword fight between a rogue and a pirate and making people wish they were at her table instead of mine. My games aren’t fun the way yours and Leni’s are.”
Her round eyes widened, offended on his behalf. “Yes, they—”
“Jo, it’s okay,” he said gently, holding up a hand to stop her. “I’m not upset about this. I don’t need you to reassure me, though it’s very kind of you to try.”
She deflated, slouching against her chair. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, cari?o.” He took her hand across the table once more and offered her a soft smile. “I’m relieved, honestly. I didn’t become a librarian to play games with the public. It’s been fucking exhausting doing all of this advertising and talking up MnM when I’m not even really that much of a fan.” He laughed lightly but stopped abruptly at the shock on Jo’s face.
Shit. What the fuck did he say it like that for? Shit, shit, shit.
Jo balled her hand into a fist around the napkin in her lap, fighting the panic that was rising up the back of her throat. The blood pounding in her ears drowned out everything except that wretched voice inside her.
This is it, Jo. You pushed him into MnM too hard. He tried it, and he hates it. Just like Jeremy.
She started to pull away from Felix, but he held onto her.
“Jo—”
“You could have told me that you hated MnM this whole time,” she breathed, unable to control the tremble in her voice.
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then maybe you’d better tell me again.”
Felix took a deep breath and pushed his hand through his hair. “I like playing MnM with you. And I love watching you play and GM. You know that. But without you, it’s not the same. I don’t like MnM nearly as much if you’re not there. That’s all I meant.”
Some small corner of Jo’s heart stirred at those words. There was something sweet about that sentiment—that her presence made MnM worthwhile to him. Except… it didn’t quite add up. Hot tears burned the backs of her eyes. “But I was there.”
Felix leaned forward, pushing his half-eaten plate out of the way to rest on his forearms. “Cari?o, what do you mean?”
“I was there, Felix!” she yelled, wrenching her hand out of his. “These last two weeks. At the library, at your house, at the goddamn college. I was there the whole time, and it was ‘fucking exhausting’ for you.”
She shoved away from the table. Merry streaked past, retreating into the bedroom. Jo desperately wanted to follow him, to hide under the bed and not come out until morning. Instead, she stalked into the living room. Felix’s chair scraped back, and his footsteps followed her.
“I’m not explaining myself well tonight, Jo. I’m sorry,” he said. He stood several feet away from her, his arms held away from his sides in a posture of surrender.
Jo swiped a tear off her cheek and crossed her arms. She didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid that the vitriol running through her head would come pouring out of her mouth if she dared to say another word. Felix—patient, gentle, loving Felix—didn’t deserve such vicious words. At least Jo had the presence of mind to realize that.
“Let me try again,” Felix said with forced calm. “Enjoying MnM with you as a hobby isn’t the same as making it my entire job. I wanted to do what I could for the library—for a lot of reasons. Now that the program is launched, I’m taking a step back from MnM itself and focusing on game night more programmatically. I hope we can continue to play MnM together, Jo, at conventions and such. I like us as Grax and Veena, and I want to support you in something that you love so much.”
He almost had her. She knew it wasn’t fair to expect Felix to center his whole life, or even his whole job, around a silly roleplaying game. He still wanted to play with her, and isn’t that all she really wanted?
But then he’d said those last few words. Words that rang in her ears, so similar to ones from years ago.
Sure, baby, I’ll play a game with you. You know I’ll always support you in the things you love.
And then, mere weeks later—I don’t get it, and I never will. Have fun with your friends, just leave me the hell out of it.
How long would it take for Felix to follow the same path Jeremy did? If she was lucky, maybe she’d get the rest of the summer. But then MnM night would end, and Felix would be relieved, like he was relieved about being off the hook for GMing.
“Jo?” Felix took a tentative step toward her, concern etched in every line on his face.
She stepped away, maintaining the distance between them. In the back of her mind, she registered the hurt in Felix’s dark, warm eyes. She shut it out. “You’ll support me? I’ve heard that line before, Felix.”
Something in him seemed to snap at her icy tone. His calm vanished. Sorrow and concern transformed before her eyes into anger. Not directed at her, but anger all the same.
“From who, Jo?” he demanded, flinging his arms out wide. “Who fed you that line? Some douchebag who got off on making you roleplay for him? On making you be someone you’re not?” His hands slammed against his chest. “I’m not that guy, Jo. I’m not him!”
His words cut deep, and her hackles went up. “You didn’t know Jeremy. He wasn’t like that at the beginning. He was just as understanding and supportive as you. He—” Her voice was cut off by a new wave of tears. “He loved me too, Felix.”
“Fuck,” he spat. He shoved the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Jo, I’ve been trying not to bring him up, but we have to talk about this. I can’t keep doing this.” Felix collapsed onto the couch, forearms braced on his thighs. “Will you sit with me, cari?o? Please?”
He wanted to talk. Jo could do that. She could talk. Talking meant getting things out in the open, clearing the air, setting boundaries. All those necessary, healthy things Aida always encouraged. Jo dried her cheeks and sat next to Felix.
He sighed, dropping his head into his hands and clutching his hair. “How long were you and Jeremy together?”
“Almost ten years.”
He swore again, then raised his head and regarded her with red-rimmed eyes. She expected to see pity there. Pity she could handle; she’d gotten it before. Instead, she saw only tenderness and love. Softly, he said, “I think he fucked up your expectations of what a relationship should be.”
A searing spike of rage lit up her entire body. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
“No, of c—”
“I know he fucked me up. I know he did. But I don’t know any other way to be in a relationship.” Jo pushed herself off the couch and paced, fury and indignation fueling a need to move. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could shield herself from the past, from the too-honest way Felix was looking at her, from the storm of emotions whirling through her like a goddamn tornado. “Before Jeremy, I didn’t really date. He’s all I ever had until I met you. So I’m sorry I’m like this, okay? This is all I know how to be. You deserve better, Felix. I’m trying to be better for you, but it’s so hard. It’s so fuck—”
Her throat closed around her words. The trickle of her tears became a torrent, so insistent it dropped her to her knees. Felix dove for her, not quite catching her before she collapsed. Loud, ugly sobs racked her body as she curled in on herself, throwing her glasses down so she could cover her face with her hands. He dragged her into his lap, stroking her hair and whispering her name as she cried and cried and cried. She cried until her temples pounded and her nose was clogged with snot. Until Felix was crying too.
When her tears finally subsided, he grasped her hand in both of his and kissed it. He touched the back of it to his cheek, scratchy stubble and salty tears running across her skin.
“You made yourself small for him, Jo,” he said. “I don’t know the half of what he put you through, but I know that much. I don’t need you to be ‘better.’ I just want you to be you, the real you, not a shadow of yourself.” He sniffed and cradled her hand against his chest. Jo could feel his heart racing. “If… if it’s too hard for you to be yourself around me, maybe you shouldn’t be around me.”
She jolted off his lap, kneeling in front of him and pressing her palm into his chest. Her heart was racing faster than his now, cracking down the middle, even as her mind refused to accept the implication of his words. Her eyes darted over his face, trying to read his expression. He just looked sad.
“Felix, what are you saying?”
“Cari?o mío, I love you so much.” Tears lined his eyes, matting his long, beautiful eyelashes. “But I haven’t forgotten what you told me during the tornado. Coming to Ashville was your chance to learn who you are on your own. I’ve fucked that up for you, and maybe I moved us along too fast. If I’m not good for you because you’re struggling to fit into some kind of girlfriend box you think you need to fit into for me, I—” He swallowed and blinked back tears. “I don’t know if we should be together.”
Jo dug her fingers into his shirt to pull him toward her. She cupped his cheek and touched their foreheads together. “That’s all very noble of you, gorgeous, but you don’t get to decide what’s good for me and what’s not.”
“I know I don’t.” He shifted, planting his feet on either side of her, knees bent upward to cage her in, keep her close. His trembling hands splayed on her shoulders. “I misspoke. This is a decision we need to make together.”
“I know my decision,” Jo said without a second thought.
Felix shook his head, his forehead rolling against hers. “Jo, please. I’m asking you to think about this. Really think about it. Don’t answer now, but… do you honestly believe you can be yourself around me and that I’ll love you no matter what?”
Jo pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out the yes on the tip of her tongue.
Are you sure about that, Jo?whispered the voice slithering through her mind—the voice that was her. A small, mean part of her that she could never seem to silence. Jo’s blood ran cold as doubt followed in its wake.
“I need to be honest with you,” Felix continued. His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “Sometimes I feel like you expect the worst of me. Sometimes you can’t even look at me. And then when you do, I see this trepidation in your eyes. Like I’m the enemy, like you’re waiting for me to be cruel to you, and it hurts.” His voice broke. “It hurts to keep reminding you that you don’t have to apologize for being you. I can’t second-guess everything I say and constantly reassure you that I’m not trying to hurt you. I never, ever want to hurt you, and I don’t know if you truly believe that, deep down.”
Jo was crying again. She pulled away from Felix so she could look him in the eye. She’d never seen him so miserable. Her cracked heart splintered and shattered into pieces. This was all her fault, and she was desperate to make it better. To shower him with kisses and shout words of love from the rooftops. To hold him and dry his tears and echo back the wonderful things he always said to her.
Except none of that would actually make it better. He had told her what he needed for that: he needed her to think about it. To figure out if there was a way forward without them repeatedly hurting one another. To be certain.
Okay, then. That’s what she would do. For Felix. For herself. For them.
“I’m sorry, gorgeous,” she said simply. “I didn’t know I made you feel like that.”
He leaned into her hand on his cheek, and she scrubbed at his stubble with her thumb. “That’s why I’m telling you. I know you don’t want to hurt me either.”
“I don’t, I promise.” Jo kissed his forehead. “This is why you want us each to decide, isn’t it? Because I’m not the only one who’s struggling. We’re both hurting each other, and maybe hurting ourselves.”
“Yeah. Will you think about it?” Felix’s teary eyes landed on hers, more serious than she’d ever seen him.
In the silence that followed his question, the full weight of what they were about to do seemed settle over both of them, threatening to crush them. Jo pushed through it, forcing out a single word.
“Yes.”
Felix exhaled a slow breath, as if he’d been holding it in. “Maybe we shouldn’t see each other for a while. So we can decide on our own what we want.”
Well, that sounded like the worst fucking idea ever. Which probably meant it was the correct one. “For how long?”
“As long as it takes,” he said. “Whoever is ready first will reach out. Then, with no rush, no expectations on timing, whenever the other person is ready, they’ll respond. And we’ll get together. And talk.” He spoke haltingly, as if he were making up the rules for this breakup or hiatus or whatever the hell it was on the spot. What he was saying made sense, though, and Jo didn’t have any better ideas.
“‘As long as it takes’ is kind of a scary thought.”
“It scares me too,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to rush this. For either of our sakes.”
“I know. I get it.” She wrapped her arms around Felix and buried her face in his chest, leaving tearstains on his shirt. “I’m really going to miss you, gorgeous.”
Felix embraced her, with his arms and his legs. “I’m going to miss you too, cari?o.” He rocked them back and forth, balancing on his hips, which took the kind of core strength that Jo could only dream about. Jesus, thinking about Felix’s abs right now was making this a thousand times worse.
“Can we start tomorrow?” she asked, not bothering to keep the desperation out of her voice. “I don’t want to let go of you yet.”
She expected Felix to argue, maybe spout some bullshit about clean breaks, but all he said was, “Okay.”
They stayed on the floor until their muscles cramped up. Slowly, reluctantly, they unwound themselves and helped one another to their feet. Neither of them was in the mood to finish the dinner she’d made, so she shoved the leftovers in the fridge to deal with later. Without discussing it, they drifted into the bedroom. Jo changed into pajamas, and Felix stripped down to his boxer briefs and undershirt.
They climbed into bed together, despite the early hour, and wrapped themselves in each other’s arms again. They didn’t have sex. They didn’t let their hands wander. They didn’t even kiss. They only held each other close, silent and still. And slept.
In the morning, Felix put his pants on, and Jo saw him to the door. She didn’t make him coffee or blow him a kiss and wish him a good day at work. He didn’t say goodbye to Merry or sweep Jo off her feet just to hear her laugh. Instead, she held the door open for him as he wordlessly walked out. At the bottom of the stairs, he looked back, and they exchanged hollow smiles. She shut the door.
Jo managed to hold herself together until she walked into the kitchen. The tray of brownies she’d made sat there on the counter, untouched. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to cut them. She sank to the floor and stared at the wall, silent tears sliding down her face. Her alarm went off in the bedroom, and she let it chime until Merry complained. She went through the motions of feeding him and cleaning his box and then finally picked up her phone.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she tapped a couple of icons and held the phone to her ear. It rang a few times before the call was answered.
“Babe?” came the half-awake voice on the other end. “What’s up? You okay?”
“Aida.” Sobs finally overwhelmed her. She could barely get the words out. “I need you to get on a plane.”