Speaking of lies… “This isn’t about you at all.”
“Is it about Seth?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. “Sorry. Not throwing that in your face.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t think you were. And no. Seth has zero chance with me. I just… Every time with you is wonderful, but I can’t handle the guilt hangover.”
He opened his mouth to interject, but I shook my head. “I know we’re not doing anything wrong. But I’m unsettled, and you are the one unsettling me.”
He’s also the one who calms you. I didn’t know how to balance those two feelings, and I didn’t have the strength to explain it to him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, leaning forward as if to touch me, only to stop midway and retreat. “I didn’t mean to cause you more pain.”
“You aren’t the cause of my pain, Major. In fact, the physical relief you’ve given me these last weeks has been a miracle.”
“Initially.” His eyes were far too shrewd. “But then you wake up the next day with a massive guilt hangover and—just a guess—then it doesn’t feel so miraculous anymore.”
I rubbed the back of my head. “I couldn’t sleep last night. My brain couldn’t land solidly on how it felt to lie next to you. I only know that it hurt, and the only way to stop the hurting is to give myself space.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed slowly as he tilted his ear toward me as if listening to every single word I was saying.
That was Major, too. He listened. He believed.
Gently, he moved around me to stand on steady feet. He was naked, and my hands clenched, wishing they could reach out to him. Touch him. Rove over his belly and chest and beard and ass.
You’re making a mistake, my soul whispered.
Maybe, but this hurt too much.
Calmly, he pulled his clothes together and got dressed. “I’m sorry this is ending, but I can’t say that I’m sorry it happened,” he said.
“I’m not sorry, either. I wish I could explain it?—”
He held up his hand. “You never have to explain yourself, Ren. At least not to me.”
With that, he walked out of the room and down the stairs. I lay on the mattress, listening to him open and shut the door between the laundry room and the garage. He opened the garage door, backed out, and closed it. Robert and I had meant to replace the ancient garage door opener, but that particular chore kept falling to the bottom of the list.
The house felt quieter after Major left.
Quieter, but not better.
I got dressed and stripped the bed, then walked down the stairs and heroically didn’t cry when I smelled our combined scents on the sheets. I shoved the soiled linens into the washer with extra soap and an extra rinse cycle, just to make sure I wouldn’tbe antagonized by his pheromones. This house was haunted enough.
Even as I tried to believe that this was the best course of action, the sound of a vehicle pulling into my driveway spiked my heart rate. Had Major come back? Had he decided to question my decisions? To fight for me?
I didn’t know if I wanted that… though the quickness with which I reached my front door and checked the driveway suggested otherwise. As did my disappointment at seeing Sawyer’s car.
I hesitated, waiting for him to open the door and get out, but he didn’t. He seemed to be talking to himself, and I wondered what his presence meant.
Maybe all of us who loved Robert were lost.
I went up to his car. “Sawyer, is that you?”
He grimaced, then exited the car, towering over me in a buzzy, agitated state. He held out Robert’s compass. “I have a question about this.”
I tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. I sighed. “I thought you might come to me at some point.”
“Why is that?” he asked, his tone sharp.
I shrugged and led him inside. “Robert figured that when you and Hendrix were ready for each other, you’d have questions.”
