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Preston, pale with panic-stricken eyes, stared at me. “Y-You…n-need to leave,” he whispered harshly before swallowing like a frog choked his throat. “N-Now.” He hopped up, rubbing his palms down his sweats. “Please, D-Drake. If you have any f-feelings for me at all—you’ll go.”
His sudden distress, the anxiety weighing on his face and shoulders rocketed compassion through me regardless of my anger at its source. His flight instincts always kicked in whenever Jacqueline riled him up.
The bitch still held complete sway over his mind, regardless of the distance he’d put between them by moving to Boston. Her claws had sunk deep into his psyche, her manipulations binding him to her in tighter ways than I could ever hope to experience with him.
I suddenly and thoroughly understood why he’d snuck out on me, the torn desires he needed to make sense of before he could choose between the two of us.
I also needed to relinquish any unrealistic expectations I had on Preston. While he hadn’t yet given me all the reasons our being together dragged emotions to the surface atop his childhood wounds, I could empathize. His insecurities spoke to me on a deep level he might not yet recognize or even be ready to discuss.
I would remain loyal. Be there for him whenever he found his own inner strength and stood up to Jacqueline so he could be the man he hid from sight.
Knowing what I had to do didn’t make shit any easier, but I chose to put him first.
Sean had been seeing a therapist for a few months. Perhaps it was time for me to do the same for my own shit that needed to be dealt with thanks to my parent’s divorce, the uprooting from Boston, and my extreme dislike for Dad’s wife. And maybe someday, hopefully in the near future, Preston would be open to the idea as well.
In the meantime, I would work on myself so I could be prepared for when that day came.
I would wait for Preston, no matter how long it took for him to accept the truth of who he was so we could be together.
Chapter 26
Preston
Drake left without any argument. No frown marred his gorgeous face, no vile words over my cowardly ass spewed from his lips. He’d always claimed to be able to read me, so I expected he’d figured out my issue, the divided path I hesitated in front of.
And rather than manipulating me like Jacqueline would have done into swaying me toward the decision he wanted, he gave me the space necessary to figure shit out.
He put my needs above his own desires.
I cried myself to sleep that night, sick with yearning for the solidity of him in my bed, the assurance of his presence alone that allowed me a glimpse of peace in my tumultuous existence.
Jacqueline had called at the worst time, or perhaps the perfect one depending on how a person looked at it. I’d been ready to cave to Drake’s draw, the tender, loving care and protection he offered my exhausted heart and mind.
Her ringtone matched the emotions she always erupted in my guts. Maybe I ought to change to something a little more upbeat. A tune that reminded me of hope, because that was what I wished for, right?
For everything, not just with Drake, to be disturbance free. I needed reconciliation, all defenses down, and true acceptance atop what seemed like Jacqueline’s renewed love for her son before I could even consider a future with him. I wouldn’t be completely happy in a relationship with him otherwise—wouldn’t be free to enjoy him to the fullest if Jacqueline’s presence in the back of my head continued to nag and infuse fear in my thoughts.
I wanted both paths to circle back around and meet up in one road bracketed by gardens full of life and beauty, quietness and contentment.
But I stood rooted in unhealthy soil, unsure which way to turn to make that dream come true.
Jacqueline called every three days in the following weeks like clockwork, giving me updates on her and Devlin’s jaunt from one country to another. Her dedication in using pet names and telling me she missed me inspired more hope of reconciliation. She sent me pictures of exotic places she thought I might like. Beaches and sand. Yachts and city landscapes in an array of colored sunsets.
And Drake?
He proved his thoughtfulness with similar gestures just as often.
Seeing as how I’d ignored the NDAs by admitting to which Elites I had been with, I couldn’t be mad at Sean for giving his best friend personal information if that was how he’d gotten my phone number.
A part of me was glad to have that tether to Drake, a means of reaching out to him if shit hit the fan and I couldn’t breathe on my own, because knowing Jacqueline, she could flip a switch at the drop of a hat.
Drake texted me every morning and night but with mere friendly messages. No booty calls. No hint of teasing or flirting. He’d promised to have my back, and he did without a hint of manipulation.
Twice, I’d called him in a huff, pissed at Jacqueline who’d regressed a bit toward her old self, asking if I ever left my condo for a night on the town with Drake to meet women. Polished ones, she’d hoped for aloud, not easy girls at like a dance club or seedy bar.
Drake offered to take me out after my second meltdown, but I declined. He also suggested going for dinner on a non-date.
But I said no to that too, still not ready to face him and have all my fragile walls holding his draw at bay dissolved into dust just by the sight of him in the flesh.
