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“Nothing is wrong, per se, but I need to make sure you know the truth about something…” I’m nervous, my hands won’t stop fidgeting and he notices, patiently waiting for me to tell him.
“I can’t be in a relationship.” There, band-aid ripped. Kind of.
“Ah.” That damn syllable again. Except this time it makes me doubt if I was right about him being interested in me at all.
“I’m not saying that you wanted a relationship. With me.” I indicate to myself dramatically as if I’m not the one speaking. “But, if you did then I need to make sure you know that I can’t do it. I don’t want to mislead you. I don’t want you to think that I’m a tease if I flirt with you but don’t sleep with you. I mean I like flirting with you, and I think you’re incredibly good-looking, but I cannot be in a relationship,” I ramble.
“Are you married?” He interrupts, looking toward my hand, checking for a ring. That’s the last thing I expected him to ask.
“What? No.”
“Why can’t you do relationships, Sunshine?” He leans against the counter comfortably, as if I didn’t just drop a major bomb on him. It feels like a nuclear bomb to me.
“It’s complicated.” Majorly complicated.
“Well, I’m a complicated guy. Try me.”
I wring my hands together, not sure what to say or how to even begin explaining my issues. He seems so genuine, it’s on the tip of my tongue to spill my guts and tell him everything, but I’ve been burned in the past. I’ve trusted the wrong people and I’ve been hurt because of it.
Chapter Eleven
Jesse
“Ican’t,” she utters, unable to look me in the eye.
I wait for the familiar sting of rejection, a feeling that I came to learn incredibly early in life. A feeling that I came to expect after years of bouncing from caregiver to caregiver, from group homes to foster homes. A feeling that I’ve done my best to avoid in my adult life.
I never cared where the military sent me so I couldn’t be disappointed. Applying for any and all special units so it never mattered if I got accepted for one over the other. I don’t get my hopes up for anything.
It only hits me at this moment that I’ve already broken my own rule. I started looking forward to something. I’ve looked forward to seeing her again, every day, since noticing her in the bar.
I’ve gone out of my way to keep her safe and to see her smile. I’ve already become addicted to the way she blushes when I compliment her and the way that her cheeks redden when she says too much, or can’t seem to say anything at all.
I’m personally invested in the state of her underwear drawer and have the strongest desire to kick her contractor’s ass. This isn’t the game I thought it was this morning. This feels like more.
I don’t do relationships. I never have. Committing to someone only to be let down never seemed like a risk worth taking. I’m not meant to stay in this town and I was never meant to meet her. So, why am I disappointed by what she’s telling me?
Instead of feeling the deep ache I’ve associated with losing out on something I’ve been longing for, I’m concerned. My feelings don’t matter at all, not when I need to know where this conversation is coming from. I need to know because she looks so… Sad? Scared?
“You can’t, or you won’t?” I ask, needing a clue of what’s going on inside her head.
“Please, Jay. I can’t talk about it.” It’s hardly noticeable, but I see her bottom lip trembling and it guts me. That, plus the use of my fake name, and I feel like the biggest bastard on the planet. I have no right to keep showing up in her life like this.
I have no right to ask her about her or her personal business. I haven’t even been honest about who I am. How can I expect anything from her? I can’t.
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. Where do you need these?” I push the cart forward an inch, hoping distraction will get me out of the hole I’ve dug for myself.
“You’re not mad at me?” Right then, with those big eyes staring at me from under her ridiculously dainty glasses, I realize she was waiting on the same sting of rejection that I was. She was fully expecting to be let down by whatever my reaction was.
“I could never be mad at you, Sunshine,” I say with the utmost sincerity. “Besides, we’re friends right?”
She smiles and I swear she releases the breath she was holding in relief. “Yeah, friends.” She motions me where to go with the cart and I follow, fully aware of how much trouble I’m in.
If she needs a friend, I’ll be her friend, even if it feels like torture. Being so close, but not being able to have her… I need to finish this job and get the hell out of this state. So, why does that sound even worse?
I start stacking books on the shelf automatically when we reach our destination in the back aisle of the Children’s section. I’m reworking the turmoil in my head over and over trying to come up with a solution to stop all of this from blowing up in my face.
The simplest solution is to walk away from her. It’s the only way to stop her from hating me when I inevitably leave, but I don’t want to leave her alone. I like being around her.
