I’m naked, sitting in bed with my skin still cooling from where Jenny was pressed up against me just minutes ago, and everything changed in the course of those few minutes.
She loved me.
She never said it back then, but she drops it now like it’s nothing. I spent years swallowing down my own love for her, scared it was too much.
And now, when it’s far too late, I found out that it was too little.
I was expecting to have to warm her up to the idea of a relationship, prepared to beg her for a chance to take this seriously. I should have been singing her praises this whole time. I should have told her that I never stopped loving her, that I never stopped thinking about her. I should have begged for her back the second I laid eyes on her.
The thought of asking her to come spend weekends with me is laughable now. If I had known, I’d have found us an apartment and surprised her with keys, showered her in flowers and those muffins she likes from the bakery in town.
I’ve been a coward, just like she said, and it’s biting me in the ass. I deserve it.
Instead of worrying about whether we could handle the distance, I could have been making plans to ensure we did. I got so wrapped up in my own fear that I just let her go, let her walk out with my heart bleeding on the floor between us.
I’ve been my own roadblock this entire fucking time, and I have no idea how to fix this.
I don’t even know how to breathe right now.
All I know is that I can’t lose her. Not again.
The next fewdays are a whirlwind of grief and guilt. I don’t see Jenny for more than a few seconds, and when I do, it’s the sight of her rounding a corner to get away from me that greets me. She doesn’t stop when I call out to her, doesn’t meet my eyes if she happens to walk past me. It’s like everything between us didn’t just fizzle out, it disappeared entirely.
I feel sick to my stomach every time I think about her, which is damn near constant.
Keeping my hands busy doesn’t help. I’m not even keeping track of what I’m doing in the feed room at this point. Moving things around on the shelves doesn’t count aswork, but it makes me feel better than standing here doing nothing.
Thinking about her.
I don’t know how I didn’t realize it back then, or how I let my doubts cloud my judgement this time. Jenny’s never been asoftperson, all sharp edges and explosive temper, but I got to see the gentle side to her. I was one of the only people she relaxed around, and she never let anyone else take care of her the way I did.
And instead of cherishing that, cherishingher, I wasted my chance on doubting that she could ever feel the same way about me.
I tried to get over her when I left for college. Took a roll in the sheets with a few different girls over the years, but they all reminded me of her somehow. They all fell short of her, too. No one ever lived up to my expectations, because the only person I could ever see myself with was Jenny.
Everything always came back to her.
Even when I didn’t mean to, I’d find myself imagining her in the backyard while I did the dishes. Playing with our dog, or maybe our kid, a bright smile on her pretty face. If I was being more realistic, I’d think about being friends, getting lunch together whenever we were in the same town. Catching up.
Being happy to be in her life any way she’d allow me.
And now I’ve ruined it all.
I can’t even get out of my own head for long enough to do my job. I’ve been standing here, staring at a half full feed bucket, for God knows how long. I’m supposed to be filling it. I don’t know where I put the fucking bag.
I’m a mess.
Why didn’t I justtellher? Was my ego really worth losing her over? Losingeverything? I should have asked,begged, just fucking told her how I felt even if I thought I couldn’t have her.
I’ve never felt so stupid in my life.
I don’t even know how to fix it. I don’t know if there’s any way Ican.
I’m tempted to turn down the job and promise to stay here with her if it means I can have her again, but that doesn’t feel like enough. It feels like an empty gesture, something desperate that doesn’t mean what I need it to mean. And it’s not what either of us want, in the end. I don’t want to stay here, even if I would for a chance with her. She doesn’t want to stay here, either. She’s always wanted to get off the ranch, make something of herself.
We’d both just wind up miserable.
Besides, I know I fucked up too much for a grand gesture like that to matter.
