Chapter 75
Seventy-Five
T erry’s death by cocaine overdose dominates the news. Sportscasters discuss rampant cocaine abuse among MLB players. Calls for drug testing resume. Various general managers and players weigh in on how player drug use has affected performance and cost them games and pennants.
I’m utterly drained, a gaping maw of grief left in the wake of my sobs. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I massage my forehead as a headache threatens.
Butch’s hand strokes my back, and I meet his tender gaze. “I’m going home for the funeral.”
He wraps his arms around me for the hundredth time this week. “Want me to come with you? I will in a heartbeat.”
My whispered “no” is muffled by his soft cotton T-shirt, and I sink into the familiar scent and reassurance of his stable presence.
“You sure?”
I angle my face toward his. “Yeah. I just need— want —to be there, and I’m overdue for a visit with my parents anyway.”
“I understand, although…”
“What? ”
“It sounds trivial in light of everything, but it would be nice to meet your parents before our wedding day.”
He’s not wrong. It’s weird that he hasn’t…but this isn’t the right time. I can’t face the collision course of Terry’s funeral, my past, and parental interaction with the stress of introducing my fiancé around too.
If I’m honest, Butch seeing behind the curtain of my fucked-up home life holds zero appeal. It’s safer if he meets them out in the wild—for our wedding in Virginia—instead of in their natural habitat where alcohol and Valium and infidelity and bitter unhappiness prevail.
I book a flight, rental car, and hotel for the following day.
It might be shitty, but I don’t let my parents know.
I don’t want to field questions or deal with my folks until after the funeral.
Next I call Kendra, and we decide where to meet the morning of the service.
I graciously accept her invitation to stay with her afterward for as long as needed.
As I pack, a growing current thrums through my veins, gaining volume and speed. A lingering question. A small sliver of light that will not be snuffed. A tiny, reawakened voice.
Mick and Remy.
I know they’ll be at the funeral. They’re among Terry’s closest friends.
And I’m not sure how I feel about seeing them.
But by the electricity sparking my cells, it’s got unfinished business written all over it.
And the guilt hits me like a hammer. I’m engaged.
Why do I have questions? What does this mean?
What’s going to happen when I see my dynamic duo?
It escalates my heart rate enough that I sit on the bed and put my head between my knees.
Butch jogs up the stairs and finds me in this position. “Are you okay?”
Fuck.
My pulse pounds in my ears. I need to get a hold of myself. “Yeah,” I whisper. “Just…” Just what? Thinking about my ex-boyfriends? Ex-lovers?
The mattress dips as my husband-to-be sits beside me, one of his huge hands rubbing up and down my spine in a soothing gesture. “What’s wrong?”
This is the moment of truth, isn’t it? The moment I tell him about my past, and he either shuns me or continues loving me.
I have to tell him, don’t I? Otherwise, it’s like lying…or at least, keeping something important from him. I promised never to do that again.
The pounding of my heart amps up again as I sit upright and rub my knuckles over my chest, avoiding his gaze. “Can I talk to you about something you might find difficult?”
“You know you can tell me anything, Jacqui.”
I reach for his hand, and he squeezes it against mine. It’s comforting, and I’m in blind faith mode. “There will be old friends…and ex-boyfriends,” I say slowly, “at the funeral.”
He makes a humming noise.
“I’m a little stressed about it, I think because one particular relationship was…non-traditional…and ended badly.”
“Non-traditional?” he questions.
My heartbeat escalates to battering ram status and I force out a breath. “I loved two guys, who were best friends, and they loved me too.”
He freezes, eyes darting away as he takes a minute that I desperately try not to fill with nervous chatter. “Sounds messy. And like a recipe for disaster.”
“It had some messy moments,” I admit. “Until we…” I can’t say it.
Butch squeezes my hand reassuringly, urging me on, reminding me that he’s my rock. God, I love him. It’s this thought I cling to as more words spill. “Please keep an open mind when I say this.”
He nods .
“We all decided to share each other and our love.” I venture a glance at my fiancé and his eyebrows raise, but there’s no condemnation. Yet.
His expression turns puzzled as he probably tries not to think about the physical equation. “I’d ask how that all worked out except you’re here, engaged to me, and not there, so…”
A humorless laugh escapes. “Pretty much. It went surprisingly alright at first. Then it blew up spectacularly.”
“Do you still have feelings for these guys? Are you having second thoughts about us?” There’s tension in his voice.
“No!” I turn to Butch, cup his jaw and press my lips to his. “No,” I reiterate.
He pulls back, green eyes blazing with intensity. “Then you changed your mind and want my domineering presence by your side as I stare those motherfuckers down?”
My loud laughter erupts. “Not necessary, Mr. Possessive and All Mine. There’s a little unfinished business, and I’m just…I haven’t thought about any of this in years.” The result of so many blessings, chiefly the man sitting next to me. “Happily so,” I add.
Butch sighs, sounding frustrated. “What kind of unfinished business?”
Remy. A pang pulses through me. “The kind where there was no goodbye of any sort with one of them, during which he met and married someone. I was hurt and angry for a long time about how he treated me. I’m wondering if seeing him will lead to a confrontation.”
“I don’t like it.”
I stroke Butch’s hair where it curls at the nape then let my fingers travel down his thick muscular neck. “It might not happen. I’m there to pay respects to Terry and his family. I’m not trying to worry you.”
“What about the other idiot? ”
Mick. Another pang. “He gave me a proper break-up, if there is such a thing.” Boy, did he. A part of that still zings.
His gaze fastens on me. “I guess it’s safe to assume these guys are morons for letting you go.”
“True statement.” I smile at him, forcing all my love and adoration into my expression.
“You’re going to keep that rock on your left hand the whole time, right?”
I nod, grinning now.
“Tell the world you’re engaged to the best man you’ve ever known?”
More nodding.
He cups my face. “Say you’re mine, Sundance. Only mine.”
“I’m all yours, Lumberjack. Only yours. There’s no question about it.”
“I still don’t like it, but I trust you…and I trust us.”
As he kisses me, I fully absorb these words I needed to hear and tuck them inside my heart for safekeeping.
Butch takes me to the airport. After opening my door at the curb in the departures drop-off area, he sets my suitcase beside me on the sidewalk. His hand threads through mine. “I hate that you’re going alone.”
“I’m fine…I promise. I love you.”
He cradles my face and my hair whips in the wind. “I love you, baby. Call me so I know you arrived safely.”
We share a fierce kiss, our bodies pressing against each other, then I take my bag and disappear through the automatic glass doors.
Ninety minutes later, I’m in the air, my thoughts swirling.
It’s been five years since I’ve seen Mick or Remy. My best friends. My lovers. The men who left a gaping hole—one that’s been hard to repair—in my heart.
I’m not na?ve enough to believe that what we shared could last forever, especially with the complications of our... unusual relationship.
But god, I miss them.
Shifting in my airline seat to gaze out the tiny oval window, patches of landscape blink through the clouds as this titanium contraption hurtles across the earth, California drawing me to my native shores.
Even though I’ve moved on, the nagging feeling something tangible is missing lingers, like the soldier who experiences a phantom limb after an amputation.
Maybe a part of my heart will always be missing because it will always be theirs. Or perhaps seeing them will heal this fissure and make it whole again.
Inhaling a fortifying breath, I settle against the headrest.
Endeavoring to open the box we shut all those years ago may very well be a fool’s errand, but with my wedding on the horizon...I need to close that box once and for all.
My gorgeous engagement ring snags my attention, and I press it to my lips, reminding myself of Butch’s essence. His strength is my strength, and even through this symbol, it infiltrates me, soothes me, grounds me.
I read, doze, and allow thoughts to come and go like summer insects.
When the aircraft touches down in San Francisco, I deboard and make my way to the rental car company. A short while later, I’m driving toward the Pacific, needing to see, smell, and inhale the coastline I’ve missed so terribly.
I’m out of the vehicle at the first opportunity, and every cell in my body jerks awake and alert, gulping the ocean air and reminding me viscerally of where I am.
California.
Home .
A huff of surprise leaves my lips. I stand before the majestic sea as realization dawns. No matter where I go, where I rest my head at night, California is in my bones, my blood, my DNA. It will always be home along with whatever state I currently reside.
“Did you get in okay?”
Butch’s deep voice is a salve after a long day of travel. I cradle the hotel phone, curled on my side in the middle of a massive king-size bed. “I did, baby.”
“I’ve got a surprise for you when you get home.”
My heart performs a little flip. “Really? What is it?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”
I know. He’s like a fucking vault when it comes to secrets. Something I love about him. “A girl can try.”
“Don’t bother to guess.”
My mind whirs, then slows. I’m exhausted—and if I’m honest, anxious. There’s no energy to mentally sift through a list of presents I could want. “I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
“I’m too tired to argue.” I stretch my legs, joints cracking in my ankles.
“Just how I like my women...pliant.”
I bark out a laugh. “ Pliant my ass.”
“I like a pliant ass too.”
“Well, that’s true. You are an ass man.” A loud yawn escapes.
“Get some sleep, Sundance. I’m sure tomorrow will be tough. What time is the funeral?”
“Midmorning.”
He pauses. “I should be with you.”
God no. Potent images of Mick and Remy flash unbidden in my mind.
“That would be like coming to my high school reunion, a total drag. No one cares about the plus-one. You’re just the guy everyone is morbidly curious about because they’re nosy and want to know if I wound up with a hot guy or some balding loser. ” And I need to do this alone.
“Which one am I?”
“If you have to ask...” My lips curve into a smile.
“Ouch.”
“I’ll call you later tonight, hot guy.”
“And then you better get your pliant ass back home.”
“Soon, baby. Soon.”