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Joyride

Page 45

by D.J. Jamison

After a beat of hesitation, he picked up his burger and took a bite. While we ate, Dakota asked Joey about his job, his family, his hobbies. Poor guy was getting a thorough grilling.

I tried not to be interested in his answers but drank in every detail anyway.

“Girlfriend?” she asked before popping her last bite of sandwich into her mouth.

“No. Not really my type.”

“Boyfriend, then?”

His gaze strayed to me. Shit. I stared hard at my veggie burger, my unsatisfying, too-dry veggie burger, and tried to project the image of a guy who’d never fucked around with Joey.

“No boyfriends right now,” he said. “My head hasn’t really been in the right space for dating.”

It hadn’t seemed that way when he took my phone number. But then he’d never called…

Not that it mattered. He’d obviously figured out who I was. It was smart of him to stay away. I’d be a lot angrier if he’d called, if we’d gone on another date—even had sex again—without him telling me the truth.

But you did have sex again, didn’t you? Even after knowing. Because you’ve got no self-control.

“Same as Kit, then,” Dakota said.

“We’re not the same,” I bit out.

“You’re both into men, I meant.” She reached over and pinched my arm. She couldn’t kick me, so this was her go-to for making me aware I was being a dick.

“Right, yeah. That.” I nodded. “Guess we are.”

Joey cleared his throat. “So, um…is there anything I can do for you, Dakota?”

She tilted her head as she considered him. “In what way?”

“I just…saying sorry isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. Maybe I can do something to make your life easier.”

“Hm. You said something similar in the letter.” She looked down, then read his words off the page. “I regret what happened, and I’ll continue to regret it, deeply, for the rest of my life. If I can ever do anything to make it up to you in any way, please tell me. Words mean so little. They seem so incapable of holding the multitudes of pain between us.” She paused, letting the words linger in the air. “Pain between us. Are you hurting, Joey?”

He reddened. “I didn’t mean our pain was the same.”

“I know.” She tapped the letter. “You offer to help me. To make my life easier. At the end of the letter, you call yourself my willing servant. What do you think you owe me?”

“Everything,” he said, voice hoarse.

“I can take care of myself,” she said gently. “I’m paralyzed, but I’m not helpless.”

He nodded, eyes glazed. “I would never call you helpless. I just want to make amends however I can. If that’s leaving you the hell alone, then I will.”

“Mm-hmm. You said that in the letter too. You also said I could yell at you or punish you if I wanted.”

My stomach flip-flopped. He’d said that. Jesus. No wonder he’d begged me to punish him when I showed up at the pool house. I didn’t realize it then—not fully—but Joey was looking to atone.

He could have told a pretty story and made excuses to justify his actions. He wasn’t doing that.

“I made your life so much harder,” Joey said. “I just want to do what I can to mitigate that. I went to prison, but that wasn’t for you. It didn’t help you. So, I know forgiveness isn’t on the table, but maybe…maybe I could do something to show you how sorry I am.”

She glanced down at the letter, reading through the rest of it. I didn’t realize until now that I’d never heard the full thing. I’d been thrown off-kilter when I’d realized who Joey was, what we’d done, what that could all mean. None of it had registered.

I glanced down, reading words dripping with sorrow. My heart twisted.

No wonder Dakota was here. He had plucked at her compassionate heartstrings. I glanced at him, reading the misery etched in his expression. This was a guy who was genuinely sorry. I could see that now.