Jess
Ihadn’t felt this at peace in a long, long time.
I was scrubbing two beer glasses that a couple of customers—two truckers who had made a pit stop on the road—had just used. I conversed with them easily, provided just enough of a hint of flirting, and never felt like I had something nagging in the back of my mind. The visit with my father had almost completely changed my resting state by itself.
He hadn’t even given any profound advice on my relationship status or where I needed to move. Just being there... it was more than I could say he had ever been for over a decade, but if nothing else, he proved better late than never worked wonders. But knowing that he was in my life now, knowing that he would have my back in full and not deflect tough subjects with bad jokes—well, he’d still have bad jokes—gave me faith in myself.
After I finished scrubbing, I looked at the letter that I had brought to work one more time. I knew what I needed to do with the letter. And it wasn’t anything that I could accomplish here and now. I put a note on the back, “Leasing office, first thing tomorrow,” and stuffed it back in my pocket.
Just when I had it in my pocket, I could hear the sound of a single motorcycle approaching.
I knew who it was.
Call it a woman’s instinct or just the gut knowledge of who was rolling up. I didn’t even have to peek out the window. Only one biker would be coming on a weekday evening like this, and it wasn’t someone who was just driving through.
I had to admit, now that I was about to come face to face with him again, I was feeling a little bit nervous. I still felt much better than I probably would have without my father’s visit, but that didn’t mean the nerves completely disappeared. But the nerves, rather than being tinged with the fear of what could be, were more underlined by a genuine, open-minded curiosity to see what would go down.
If things went well and we got back together, great. If not—
And all that went out the window when I felt a rush of energy and a flipped stomach when I saw Phoenix walk through the door.
He looked far more rugged than he usually did, like he hadn’t slept at all the night before. The weariness on his face resembled that of a movie protagonist far past his prime on a mission he didn’t want to be on. If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed that he was actually five years older than he really was.
“Hey,” I said, a polite smile on my face.
I didn’t want Phoenix to feel exhausted or tired, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think he looked fucking sexy as hell with that gruff, tough expression. Even though he looked worn out, he had an air of certainty to him, like he knew what he was going to do, even if it meant he collapsed when it was all said and done.
“Hey you,” he said.
His tone and the voice matched the look on his face. He actually sounded deeper than normal, and his throat was a bit scratchy.Nothing a drink won’t fix.
“Can I get a drink?”
“Well, you are at the right place,” I said with a smirk.
I reached down, opened the fridge, and had a Blue Moon in my hand.
“Sam Adams, please.”
Wait, what?I rose up and arched an eyebrow at him.
“I’m just fucking with you,” he said with a snort.
“Oh, funny man,” I said.Not as good as a different type of fucking with me.
I tried to hide the surprise at how quickly my mind went to wanting to be with him. Perhaps I had underestimated how Phoenix made me feel; perhaps I’d suppressed it when he’d left me before.
“We could all use a little humor these days,” he said as I handed him the bottle of Blue Moon.
“Just not too much.”
“Agreed.”
He was a little stiff, but his words were warm and cordial. He took a big gulp of his beer, let out a refreshing breath, and looked at me. He took one more big gulp, swallowed, and put the beer down.
“I acted like an ass to you, Jess,” he said. “I thought that we could be something special. No one has made me feel the way you have since, well, ever, if I’m being fully honest. And when you said that you were moving away, I acted like a jackass. I can’t pretend it didn’t hurt, but that’s not an excuse to treat you like shit. I wanted to come here and... I wanted to make up with you. I don’t expect anything from you. I just want to say I’m sorry and, well, fuck, ask for forgiveness.”
He took another big swallow of his beer. Knowing he still probably had more to say, I was content to sit back and let him spill his heart out.
