Page 5 of When There Was You
“Hmm?”
“Do you ever have any regrets…about the three of us?”
He’s quiet, as if curating his response. “Yes. And no. Here’s the thing…if I had to choose between not having you or sharing you with my best friend, there was only one answer.”
I digest his words.
“I never meant to fall in love with you,” he admits. “I resisted it, but I’m not sure I had a choice. From the first hit, I’ve been fucked.”
“That’s why you call me ‘heroin’?”
“Exactly why. Those honey eyes, long hair, body that won’t quit…fucking irresistible. But that was just initially. You’re the whole package, Jax. Your mind, sense of humor, kindness, willingness to go for what you want. Everything about you makes me want to be with you, near you, inside you. And now…I can’t see my life without you in it.” He caresses my forearm, sending a ripple of tiny bumps across my skin.
That’s a confession he’s never made. And I swim in it, reaching up to squeeze the other arm he’s wrapped around me.
“If I hadn’t left, hadn’t shut the door, maybe you wouldn’t have gone there with Remy. I can’t really blame you.” Mick scoffs and it’s tinged with…bitterness? Sarcasm? “I’m sure it’s whathewanted from the very beginning. And because Remy can be a total dog, I didn’t want him to treat you poorly.” He pauses.
“That’s bullshit,” he admits. “I wanted you for myself even knowing I couldn’t expect it, considering…” He trails off. “But I’ve seen firsthand how Remy feels about you…and it’s pretty much howIfeel about you, so I can’t exactly fault the asshole, can I?”
He’s right. If Mick had never left, I never would’ve sought Remy’s arms. I’m about to agree, pushing though the discomfiting tightness in my chest, when he continues.
“If I have to share with someone, it could only work with Remy…because I couldn’t handle this with anyone else. And I can’t imagine choosing this again in my lifetime.”
I exhale a big breath at his admission, even as it creates new questions and underlying tensions. “I know it’s notnormal.” The word tastes bitter on my tongue. “And I hate that our relationship is like some dirty little secret.”
If society saw us openly sharing each other, we’d be ostracized, judged, ridiculed, labeled as deviants, more. Weirdly, it does seem natural. So how can it be wrong? Why are there hangups and unwritten rules about human behavior and appropriate relationship constructs?
Mick doesn’t comment but squeezes me reassuringly.
Keeping my rambling thoughts to myself, I ask, “Are you worried about how this will end up?”
“I don’t think about it, and I don’t have the answers. All I know is I’m fucking crazy about you—so is Remy—and we’re just going to ride this thing out.”
“I’m crazy about you too,” I murmur, lifting my head, my lips, in offering.
Our kiss begins soft, turns to probing, then heated. His hand cups my jaw, his other hand lacing through my hair as he hardens beneath me. We don’t even notice when the sun sinks fully below the horizon, plunging us into twilight.
When we part, Mick issues a command in his deep, husky voice. “Now get your sweet ass in my bed so I can show you how much I fucking love and worship you.”
Three
Remy doesn’t arrive that night. Or the next morning. When there’s still no word by noon, I’ve traded pissed for distraught. My stomach is either in knots or flipping cartwheels. We hang out indoors in case he calls or shows up—reading, listening to albums, aimlessly watching television. My imagination runs wild with grim scenarios flashing in my mind. Even Mick appears uneasy.
When the phone jangles at five o’clock that afternoon, we both jump, leaping to our feet and racing toward the black wall unit near the kitchen. Mick answers and I hover.
“I’ll accept the charges.” A collect call. He gives me a nod that it’s Remy, and I desperately want to rip the receiver out of his hand.
“What?”Pause. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
It’s all agonizing one-sided replies. I shift from one leg to the other, straining to hear.
What happened?
“Fuck,” Mick mutters, sliding a hand through his hair. “What can I do, man?”
Something is very, very wrong.
I pace. Patience isnotone of my strong suits.
