Page 80

JILLY: You. I want to talk to you. I want you.

I almost trip over a piece of driftwood. I throw it into the water. I can’t. Fuck. It’s already so painful. She’ll only end up busting my ass again, and I’ll never get up from that. This past month has been darker than the year after Nina. And I can’t do another Chicago winter. The depth of what we were attempting to do was too much. The implosion of emotions is more than a rational person should sign up for. I don’t care how funny, intelligent, beautiful, and perfect she is. The price is too high. I had a good life. The cats, the simple girls, the house, my friends. It was all in place, and even though she showed me there were highs and lows outside of my comfort zone, none of this aching is worth it.

I almost got fired two weeks ago because I was so stoned I couldn’t finish some documents I was working on. I stopped smoking that day. But the pot only kept her at bay. It’s like running from a storm. You know the darkness is coming, the turmoil and disruption to your day, but I kept running because, Christ, that storm is going to kill me.

I went to the only untainted Jillien place I could. Philly is haunted with memories, old and new, of her. Just like she talked about all the former neighborhoods she lived in around Chicago, they’re ghosts of places that all used to be something else. I can’t seem to make new memories out of old places. So, I’ll hide here. I’m safe here.

LIAM: There’s nothing left to say. It’s clear. Go home.

JILLIEN: No.

FLETCH: Jill. Please.

JILLIEN: NO.

Before, her cheeky determination made me want to smack her ass, tie her up and then fuck the hell out of her. I found it charming and attractive she could be so defiant to the world but submit to me. Dammit. My dick is now thinking about her, which is so complicated.

I push call. It will shred me to hear her voice, but maybe then she’ll leave me alone.

“Fletch. Oh. My. God. Thank you. Hi. Hi. Liam. It’s me. Jilly. I mean, you know that. Shit. You called me. Hi.” Her silly voice fills me with light.

“You have to go home.”

I can hear her sniffle. I can’t take the crying. It’s too much.

“I miss you so much. I have so many things I need to say to you. I want to apologize—”

I cut her off. I can’t hear this. She can’t throw a new wrinkle into my pain. This was an epically terrible idea. “What’s it going to take to get you out of the house?”

“You coming here.” Her voice is strong and confident, as if we’re a foregone conclusion. For my sanity, I need to let this woman go. She’s toxic to me.

“Jill. Go home.”

“Look, I have a week off, no luggage, and a shit ton of baggage to work through. You’ll have to blast me out of this house. So you better come here and kick me out. Oh, and Lisa was here. She was miserable. She’s the bitch who tried to fuck with destiny, and I told her we weren’t her puppets any longer. Fate is stronger than Lisa.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but as long as she’s gone in a week, I don’t care. I’ll have the cleaning man show up after she’s gone and remove all traces of her. All lingering scents of ginger and that light ripe berry smell. If she can find the sheets and curl up on the floor, she can have it. I’ll have him burn the sheets and shampoo the carpets. I’ll remove her again.

“Fine. Enjoy the week. Visit your dad, maybe he’ll be happy you’re in Philly.” Even as it came out of my mouth, I knew it was a low blow. Her breath sucked in. There’s a long pause as I stare out at the water. The birds are diving for their dinner, and I’m trying to find the same peace in the view that as I used to. She stole peace from me. Fuck Jill. Fuck me for sleeping with her. Fuck me for imagining there was a connection that went beyond comprehension. Nope. Not worth any of this agony.

Her voice is quiet. “How are you this angry at me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I scrub my face with my free hand. It’s killing me to hurt her. I didn’t mean that.

“Then meet me at your home. I’m here to tell you how wrong I am. Then if you still want be cruel, I’ll accept it. Let me apologize.”

“That’s something you and I both know you suck at. No thanks. That’s enough. Take care of yourself. Send Ethan my best.”

“That’s it? Please, Fletch. Can you come home?” She’s at my house, calling it home. What a joke.

I can find a woman up here. I can find one who will fit into the mold I need her to. Because she didn’t just break that mold, she shattered me.

I end the call.

47

JILLIEN

I stomp my foot when I realize he hung up. This is unacceptable. I’m a woman possessed. No. This is not how we fucking end. We either go down in a fiery shitstorm or perhaps a tornado of pain. But this is not how we end. We don’t end with a phone call where he meekly tells me to leave his house. There are boxes everywhere. I need to know what this means.