Justice(84)

I don’t know what to think. What to do. I’m spent. I can’t take another blow. This is a cage with no way out. There is no win here, and I know it. Any declaration of love would be a reaction to a loss he can’t cope with. Maybe a few months ago, in another life, this would be good enough. All I know is that it’s not good enough right now. For either of us. I just…

My best friend lifts my chin up and lowers his mouth onto mine. It’s tentative and soft, lasting only a moment. He opens his eyes to gage my reaction, but a million emotions and thoughts are racing around my mind. Shock. Happiness. Confusion. And a whole lot of lust. His mouth finds mine again, this time with no hesitation or care. I kiss back with the same urgency. Our tongues dance and tease as he pulls me into his wet, hard body. I cling to his bare back, digging my fingers in. I’m intoxicated by him. His taste. His smell. It’s exactly how I’d imagined it. Better.

He lowers us onto the ground, him pinning me as if I’ll escape. Tiny rocks poke into me, but I try to ignore them. We kiss and caress, grasping at each other as if we’ll be torn apart. He squeezes my breasts, and I run my hand through his hair. His hand moves under my skirt and up my thigh. I part my legs for him and almost die from pleasure as his fingers thrust inside me. And it’s that beautiful agony that brings me crashing back to earth. What the hell am I doing?

I’ve wanted this more than anything almost since I met him, so why do I have a rock in the pit of my stomach right now? This is wrong. I know it’s wrong. He’s drunk. He just lost the love of his life. He’s beyond vulnerable. I want him to want me, not a distraction. I’m not this person. This will change everything. He’ll wake up tomorrow, hating himself and probably me. Harry…

No. I will not do this.

Without hesitation, I push his hand away and break the kiss. “No. Stop.” I pull away, sitting up and pulling my jacket tight for protection.

“What’s the matter?” my friend asks.

“We can’t do this. You’re drunk. You’re mourning. It’s wrong.”

He touches my shoulder. “I want to, Jo.”

“Why?”

“Because…I want to make you happy. Because you’re in love with me.”

Those words slap me in the face. I leap up, suddenly disgusted with both of us. “So you’re finally drunk and sad enough to give me a pity fuck?”

He stands up. “What? No, of course not! You just looked so beautiful, and I wanted to…I don’t know.” His shoulders slump and he looks away, completely lost. “I love you, Jo.”

“But not in that way,” I finish for him. “And you never can, can you? Never.”

As the words escape my mouth, I know it’s true. More important, I can accept it. He can never give me what I want. He’ll never look at me with lust or deep abiding love like he did her. He’ll never ache for me. I’ll just always be that girl on the bridge he needs to fix. All those years. Over half of my life waiting for something that can never be. Letting no other man in just in case he decided to love me back. I’m pathetic.

He steps toward me. “Jo.”

I leap away. “Don’t. I can’t…” I turn around before he can see me cry. I run away as fast as I can, sobs escaping as I do.

Geoff and Bryan rush over to me when I come into view. “Ma’am?” Geoff asks.

“Um,” I sniffle, “he’s at the end of the path.” I keep walking toward the Cobra, fumbling for the keys. “Can you, um, go get him? I’m afraid he might hurt himself.” I struggle to unlock the door. “Just, um, take him back to the house when he’s ready.”

“Ma’am,” Bryan says as I slam the door shut. “What about—”

I start the car, the engine drowning out his voice. I speed away before either can stop me. I almost hit three other cars as I dodge and weave through traffic. My mind has stopped functioning, but instinctively I know where to go. It’s the only place I want to go. Hell, where I need to go.

Harry opens the door in his pajamas, bewildered by the sight of me. I’m sure I’m covered in dirt and leaves, so God knows what he’s thinking. “Jo?”

“You were right,” I say for possibly the first time ever.

“Jo, what—”

“Everything you said about me is right. I’m fucked up. I am so fucked up I don’t know why anyone would want me. Mom didn’t. Justin sure as hell doesn’t. So why would anyone, let alone someone as wonderful as you? Because you are. You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. And if I believe or…” I say, my voice cracking, “hope that someone as remarkable as you wants me, and it doesn’t happen, I’m not sure I could live with that. There is a huge part of me that doesn’t believe I deserve even the hope. I’m scared to hell of even the possibility because if everything does turn up roses, I’m not sure I’d know what to do with myself. All I know is pain and—and struggle. It drives me, makes me strong. It’ll always be a part of me.”