Bent not Broken (121 page)

Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I know I have to see her and ask her one last time if she wants me out of her life. I know without a doubt that if she says, “yes,” I’ll be gone. For good. But I have to ask her. I let her go too easy last time, but I had to let her go. I had to give her the space to figure out her life.

A slight jerk of the plane landing jolts me awake. The engine’s roar as we slow down. Opening the window shade, I’m met with the late afternoon sun in Charlotte, North Carolina. Deplaning, I follow the signs that lead me to the rental car counters. After a short shuttle ride and a few signatures, I’m walking out to stall B12 to find the car that is going to take me to Jess. Plugging in the address Landon sent me into Google Maps, I plug my phone in to charge and pull out of the airport. I have just less than two hundred miles and three and a half hours until I get to her.

The drive is beautiful and surprisingly fast. In just under four hours, I’m pulling into Wilmington and turning into the parking lot of a condominium complex that is situated right on the beach. I can’t help but smile a little knowing that no matter where she ran off to, she’d find a beach. She loves the sand and the water.

Taking a spot in visitor parking, I kill the engine just as the sun sets over the water. A dusky darkness has fallen over the parking lot and large exterior parking lights have turned on. I take a moment to take in my surroundings and get my bearings as I’ve been traveling for over nine hours. Nine hours I’ve thought about everything I plan on saying to her. Yet here I am, and I still don’t have the words. Nervousness sets over me, as in the first time I kissed her nervous, first time I told her I loved her nervous.

Opening my car door, I step out and smell the salty ocean air. It’s refreshing, and I can see why Jess would like it here. Immediately, I notice her SUV parked in a space marked #101. That matches the condo number that Landon sent me, along with her address. Walking up the sidewalk, I notice the door with #101 on the wall right next to it. Stopping for a minute, I turn to look back at my car and then at Jess’ car and wonder if I’m making the right decision in coming here.

Reaching for the doorbell, I pause. My finger hovers over the small round button. I fight with myself internally over whether or not I should push that small button. Nothing but a door and some windows separate me from the woman I love with every ounce of my being. With a deep breath, I push the lighted white button, and my heart races. I can hear shuffling as she makes her way to the door.
Click, click, swoosh
. I can make out the sounds of the deadbolt, the handle lock, and the chain. My eyes move to the doorknob as I watch it slowly turn.

The door opens, and I lift my eyes upward, meeting the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen. A small gasp escapes her lips, and she takes a step backward wrapping both arms around her waist. Her long hair is pulled up into a loose, messy, twisted ponytail. She’s wearing a dark gray tank top and black yoga pants. I notice that she’s still thin; you can see it in her arms and face. We both stand, taking in the sight of each other as my heart races. Swallowing hard, I decide it’s now or never.

“Hi,” I say nervously, my palms sweating. Her eyes are glistening and she drops her arms to her sides. Moving quickly towards me, she stops just inches away before throwing her arms around my neck. She pulls herself into me and lifts herself up, wrapping her legs around my waist. It may be the tightest hug I’ve ever felt from her. Wrapping my arms around her, I squeeze her back, taking in the smell of her hair. My cheek rubs against the side of hers, and I can feel her heart beating as wildly as mine against my chest.

Afraid to move for fear this moment will end, I forget everything I’ve rehearsed, everything I thought about for the last three and half months, and say the only thing that is in the front of my mind. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Chapter 42

Jess

Am I dreaming? Is this real? I know it is when I hear the word “hi” roll off his tongue. Jumping into his arms, I hold onto him for dear life. He doesn’t immediately hug me back. I deserve that. But when I feel his arms finally wrap around me and squeeze me back, the tears that are pricking at the backs of my eyes form.

Hearing him say he missed me melts my heart. Tears are rolling down my cheeks, and my body starts shaking. I didn’t believe I’d feel him like this again.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers, turning his face into my hair. I feel his lips press against the side of my head for a second, but he pulls his face away. Untangling my legs from his waist, I drop them to the floor and loosen my arms from around his neck.

“What are you doing here?” I mumble, wiping tears from my face with the back of my hand. When he looks at me like he doesn’t know what to say, I grab his hand and pull him inside the condo and out of the doorway. He takes a few hesitant steps into the kitchen area, and I notice him looking around the condo.

“Can we talk?” Gabe asks. “Is now an okay time?”

Extending my arm toward the living room, I nod. “Yeah. Have a seat.” He finds a spot on the loveseat that sits perpendicular to the couch and I see him fidgeting with his hands. I sit at the end of the couch nearest him and take a deep breath.

“Landon called me,” he says immediately, and my heart stops again.

“What? Why?” I question him.

Shaking his head at me, he continues. “He didn’t say much. Just that you needed me, but you wouldn’t call.”

Closing my eyes, I remember every word Landon said to me on the beach last week. The words are ingrained in my memory.

“There can’t be an ‘us’ when your heart belongs to someone else.”

“I will never be that guy for you. I want someone who needs me to breathe, to survive, and to love. For you, that’s Gabe.”

“You need to call him.”

I hear Landon’s deep voice whispering these words to me again. I close my eyes and listen to those words repeat in my head.

“I will leave right now if you want me to,” he says, looking at his hands.

“No,” I whisper. The tears are back in my eyes, threatening to spill over once again. “I need to talk to you, and I owe you an apology.”

He shifts slightly on the couch. “Before you start, there is something I need to say.” I make direct eye contact with him and he clears his throat. “When you came to say goodbye that night, I know you thought something was going on with Heather. There’s not. Luke and Heather are dating. She had just walked up and given me a hug, and that’s when I saw you. Jess, for three and half months, all I have done is think about you. For the rest of my life, I will regret not fighting harder for you. I should have fought harder for us.”

Tears are literally spilling in buckets down my face. Listening to the words he is speaking is breaking my heart. He isn’t to blame for any of this, yet here he sits trying to own wrongs that he didn’t commit.

“I should never have let you go that easily. But I was so scared for you. I still am,” he admits, pausing. “I know you needed time, and I tried to give that to you. But please, don’t for one second think that the time and space I gave you was any indication that I didn’t love you. Until the day I die, I will love you with my last breath.”

Sliding off the couch, I lay my head in his lap and cry. He places his hand gently on the back of my neck and lightly rubs. Through the tears and sobs, all I can muster out is, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” over and over.

For hours, we sit and talk. I don’t know how many ‘I’m sorry’s’ I said, but I’m certain it will never be enough. We talk about my therapy, my internship, and even Landon. I am surprised to hear how Landon contacted him, but with every beat of my heart and every breath from my lungs, I’m so thankful he did. I haven’t talked to Landon since he dropped me off after our talk on the beach. Something in my gut told me that night would be the last time I talked to him.

****

For the first time in months, I wake up excited. Gabe is asleep in the guest room, and I feel a sense of hope. I don’t know where this will lead us, but it felt good to talk to him and apologize. It felt good to explain my feelings and thoughts, and why Dr. Peterson called me a “runner.” I’ve never faced my issues head on, and for the first time, with Gabe here, I did.

I slowly open the door to the guest room and peek my head inside. He is sprawled across the top of the bed, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. His jeans are on the floor in a pile with his t-shirt. He didn’t even pull the comforter back on the bed. I know the three-hour time difference is hard, and we talked until the early morning hours. Closing the door, I lean back against it and smile.

Shuffling through the fridge, I realize that I have nothing except coffee creamer. Jotting down a small list, I grab my keys and wallet and head to the grocery store. Filling my basket with fruit, eggs, bacon, bread, and muffins, I grab a few extra items to snack on throughout the day. Unloading all of my items onto the belt, I reach for the last item. Setting it down on the belt, something, actually, someone catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. Landon is standing three lanes down, holding a few plastic bags full of groceries. We make eye contact for a brief second before he shifts his eyes and turns to walk away.

“Landon,” I holler at him. I know he hears me calling his name. “Landon,” I yell again. I see him slow for a second, dropping his head back slightly, but then he continues to walk away. I’m left standing in the grocery store as I watch him walk away from me for a second time.

Making the short drive home, the sadness of watching Landon ignore me for the final time dissipates with the happiness and excitement, knowing that Gabe is waiting for me. I can’t help but feel a sense of peacefulness and contentment with him being here. I line a cookie sheet with parchment paper and bacon, putting it in the oven to cook. I whisk eggs and some milk in a bowl, while I warm up a pan to scramble the mixture in. I also prepare French toast and a large fruit salad. Lastly, I start the coffee.

After setting the table, I get back into the kitchen to finish the eggs and French toast. Reaching into the cupboard, I grab two large coffee mugs. Turning to set them on the breakfast bar, I see Gabe sitting on one of the barstools. A small smile is spread across his face.

“What?” I ask, smiling back at him.

“You look good, really good.”

“Thanks. So do you,” I respond quietly. It’s like I’m meeting him for the first time with the butterflies in my stomach.

“Let me help you,” he says, jumping up from the stool. He grabs the coffee mugs and fruit bowl while I plate up the French toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs.

“This looks amazing, but you didn’t have to go through the trouble,” he says before taking a sip of coffee.

“It wasn’t any trouble. Plus, I wanted to. I like cooking for you.” I smile at him. “How did you sleep?” He still looks tired. I notice the dark circles under his eyes and see the way he is sucking down his coffee, like it’s a drug that will keep him alive.

He’s quiet, contemplating how to answer my questions. “Actually, for the first time in months, I slept well,” he says quietly. I feel guilty, knowing that I was the cause of so much stress and many sleepless nights for him.

I reach out and place my hand on top of his, just a small gesture, an unspoken apology. “So how long are you here for?” I ask, hoping he’ll say “forever.”

“I leave tomorrow. I have to be back at work on Monday. You know, that boss of mine is a real slave driver.” He laughs. Laughing back, I can’t help but think of my dad. Even though he’s not a man of many words, I really do miss him.

Picking up our dishes from the table, I carry them to the sink. Gabe follows behind with a few I couldn’t carry. It feels good to be standing next to him, falling into old routines like we used to, except I have no idea where this, or rather us, is going. Bending over, I stack the plates side by side into the dishwasher. Standing up to retrieve the remaining dishes in the sink, Gabe pulls me to him, pressing his soft lips against mine.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t look at your mouth any longer without tasting it,” he mumbles against my lips. Relaxing into his embrace, I let him kiss me, relishing the feel of his lips on mine. He devours my mouth like it might be the last time he ever kisses me. For all I know, it might be.

I kiss him back while wrapping my arms around his neck. Lifting me gently to the breakfast bar, he sets me on the cold granite countertop. I gasp when the back of my warm thighs press against the ice-cold granite.

“And I love how you look wearing my t-shirt,” he says, brushing his hand across his name, which is silk-screened over my left breast. I smile against his kiss.

Pulling out of his kiss, I run my hands down both sides of his face, holding him. “I wore it almost every night since I’ve been here,” I tell him, wanting him to know that just because I ran, he was never far from my thoughts. Pressing his forehead against mine, he leans in one last time to press a firm kiss to my lips.

“I’ve missed you more than you’ll ever know or understand,” he whispers.

“I’ve missed you too.”

****

“Hey, I’d love to show you where I’m working, if you’re interested,” I say.

“I’d like that,” he says with a smile.

It’s Saturday afternoon and WXZI should be fairly quiet. It’ll be a great time to show him the station without being in the way. Using my keycard, we enter through the front door to the always-empty reception area. Gabe gives a little whistle as he takes in the leather furniture and swanky desk that no one uses.

Rolling my eyes at him, I grab his hand and pull him down the hall to the area where all of the offices and cubicles are. Weaving our way through four-foot cubicle walls, I lead him into my cubicle.

“Very fancy,” he says with a smirk. “You’ve hit the glass ceiling, haven’t you?” he kids with me.

“Don’t be mean,” I fire back. “This internship was all but given to me on a silver platter in exchange for counseling,” I mumble out.

“What?” he asks, confused.