Page 21 of I Will Always Love You (Maybe)

“Oh God, this game is always a lose-lose,” I say, blowing into my mug. “Let’s do the bad news first.”

“The storm of the century that Minnesotans always talk about, but it never actually comes… Well, it’s here. And it’s going to get worse.” She sets her mug down and casually peels a banana like she didn’t just drop the worst news imaginable. “They’re expecting the next five days at least to be like this.”

Five days! Everything in me feels itchy and impatient. My neck, my head, my arms. I cannot be stuck with Colby for five days. I cannot be stuck anywhere for five days, much less a secluded cabin in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere with nothing to do but sit with a woman in an open-plan space who I happened to tongue rail last night. I’ll absolutely lose my shit.

Yep, this is karma creeping up and bitch-slapping me. This is exactly what I get for doing what I promised to myself I wouldn’t. Ugh… If a crater could swallow me whole right now, that’d be amazing.

I push out a weak smile even though the air feels like it’s locked in my throat. “Wow. That’s… ah, wow. That’s a lot of days to be stuck somewhere.” What an idiotic statement, but I have no other words. The room feels fuzzy, blinking in and out of focus. I need to sit before I tilt over completely.

Colby sits on a chair at the table and I plop next to her. She gives my hand a quick pat, then pulls back like she’s not sure if she should touch me. “Please don’t worry,” she says. “I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said I have enough food to last a year. And if the power goes out, I have a stockpile of wood, and a forest filled with fallen trees that we can use, okay? We’ll be good.”

The physical survival is the very last thing that I’m worried about. Quiet, solitude, sitting, is mental warfare. It’s my least favorite activity, the one I avoid at all costs, and not only do I have to do that, I have to do that with someone I just had sex with. I unzip the top of the hooded sweatshirt and fan my heated chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Colby leans forward, her concerned eyes scanning me. “Maybe you should eat something. Your face is doing a very impressive routine right now and swapping between pale green and pink.”

Maybe she’s right. I grab a banana out of the fruit bowl and take a bite, but my mind absolutely will not settle. As much as I hate this, we have to address last night. And dammit, I need to apologize. Colby opened up, was super vulnerable, and did I take advantage of that because I wanted to do my escape artist routine? It’s sick. I’m sick. Really. I do not like this version of myself at all, and Colby was caught in the crossfire.

“You said you had good news, too?” I say. Maybe I can just keep Colby talking. For five days, I will either hide in the shed and doomscroll until my eyes bleed or keep her talking so I don’t have to own up to my terrible judgment.

“Yes,” Colby says as she wraps her hair back up into a ponytail. “I have a fully functioning hot tub.”

I crack a huge smile, my first one of the day. “You have a hot tub? How did you not lead with this? You always lead with ‘I have a hot tub.’”

“There just didn’t seem like an appropriate time to drop that on you,” Colby says with a soft chuckle. “But anytime you want to use it, just let me know and I can help show you how.”

I lean back in my chair. God, I love hot tubs, but hardly ever have a chance to use one. Sure, I can sit in one at the local YMCA among chatty strangers often with questionable body hair who don’t understand the need to relax in silence. Maybe being stuck at Colby’s place for a little bit won’t be so bad. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me last night that you had one.”

Last night. As soon as the words slipped out, and the way that a white line flashes up Colby’s neck like a shattered lightning bolt, I immediately want to suck them back in. Well, there. I did it. I dropped the bomb about last night, and now I have no choice but to actually call it out. I take a deep breath and open my mouth to apologize.

“I’m so sorry about last night, Josie,” Colby says, her eyes focused on her fingers. “I should’ve never…”

“Wait, what?” She’s sorry? What the hell does she have to be sorry about? Sure, it was mutual, consensual, hot, but I know my pattern, my MO, who I am, and still did it. “What are you talking about? I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

Her gaze snaps back to me and she tilts her head. “Why would you apologize to me? You did absolutely nothing wrong. I, um—” Her throat bobs with a heavy, thick swallow. “It’s, ah…” She stands from the table and leans against the counter, tugging at the fabric on her cuffs. “With everything that happened with Kona, it just brought up so many memories, so many awful, terrible memories, and I was looking for something to help me forget. Ugh… Please know that I really like you, a lot, and I’m so glad we’ve become friends, and I’m really worried that I completely screwed this up because I needed to be distracted. Nothing about what happened last night was fair to you.”

The chair squeaks across the hardwood floor as I push it out and move toward Colby. I want to hug her but also tell her that she sucks, because no, it doesn’t feel good to be used as a distraction. But at the same time, I want to kneel in front of her and beg for forgiveness because I did the same damn thing. “Nothing here is screwed up, unless I did it.”

Colby’s eyes bore into mine like she’s trying to read me, but confusion still crosses her face. “I don’t think you get it.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think you get it.” I inhale a quick breath. If we are going to spend the next five days together trapped in this home, now is the time to fully get everything out. “How about we move into the living room,” I say through the tension tightening in my stomach. “I think there’s some things we should talk about.”

TWELVE

COLBY

Is it a little odd sitting on the couch, in nearly the same position as last night before I ravished Josie like some starving feral animal, to now be talking about the regret we feel from what we did? Most definitely. But here we are, two fresh mugs of coffee wrapped in our palms, a box of Honey Nut Cheerios resting in between us that we’re digging into like a bag of chips, and an unbearable, weighty silence that I could chop with my axe.

The regret is so heavy in my body, as heavy as the snow that’s coming down outside. A fierce tug-of-war of emotions starts inside me. This sickening feeling that I used Josie, this anger at myself for my impulsive decision, this softness I’m feeling by looking at Josie wearing my clothes. It’s all too much and I need a moment alone to process. Which looks like it won’t be happening anytime soon.

I’ve never seen Josie in anything besides scrubs and thank God she didn’t say she was fine to prance around here in nothing but a sports bra and tiny shorts that accentuated her perfectly round ass. Ugh. This is not right. Josie is my friend. And I absolutely want to be nothing more than friends—with anyone—and thus, I need to stop thinking of the way she felt on my fingers last night.

“Josie,” I say, clearing the anxiety from my throat. “I’m not looking for a relationship. Like at all. And I knew that last night when we did… what we did. And I should have said it upfront, right away, and not given you any sort of wrong impression that my feelings run deeper than friendship.”

Josie’s warm brown eyes peek at me over the mug, and she shakes her head. “Okay, this is what I’m talking about. Where there is an obvious disconnect.” She tucks a leg under herself and sighs. “Can I ask you a super personal question?”

“I think we’re past needing to ask permission,” I say. “Please. Ask away.”

“When was the last time you had casual sex? Like with someone you weren’t in a relationship with?”