Chapter 18

 Janelle

I hate him…I love him…I love him…I hate him…what is wrong with me!?

I had sex dreams all fucking night! After all of that – getting mad at him and throwing him out of the house. After I yelled at myself for being such an idiot and making the same mistake for the second time, I go upstairs and dream about having sex with him all night.

In my dream, Chris was going down on me again, but he had me propped up on the back of the couch with both legs spread so wide they were touching the armrests. I had to hold on to his head to stop from falling off. Just as I was getting close, I woke up humping my spare pillow like a fucking teenager.

It’s frustrating not feeling in control of your own emotions and thoughts. It was like this after Chris left the first time. Nothing I did felt like it was helping get Chris off my mind. It took time. Finally, after months I was able to put him out of my mind, but no matter what he did, he’d find his way back in there.

And now, staring at the ceiling, lying sexually frustrated in bed, I realize I’m back to square one.

I took a long, scalding hot shower last night after he left, and cried my eyes out. It was all just too much to handle. I sat down in the tub and just let the hot spray beat down on my back and head while I rested by head on my knees. I sat there until the water went cold and I had to get out.

I dried off and got into bed. It took forever to get to sleep, and then of course I’d dream about Chris and wake up an hour later feeling worse than I did before.

Chris needs to get out of my head!

It was stupid thinking for any amount of time that there could be more to him than meets the eye. He’s just a smooth talker and that’s it. He knows what to say to a girl because he’s practiced, over and over and over.

Just the thought of that sends a pang of pain through my heart. I’m sure he’ll find some random bitch to have pound out tonight and blow her mind and her pussy will just make her brain fall in love with him. Makes me sick.

I get up and put some clothes on. Beth is going to be here any minute with Max. His favorite cereal is already sitting out by the sink, so I grab a bowl and a spoon and set them at the table.

It’s a nice day out, which I’m not sure whether I’m happy about or not. I kind of wish it was rainy and cloudy, like my mood. But the other part of me knows that the sun will cheer me up and make it easier for Max to play outside.

I take a seat at the table and wait. It will be great to see my little boy again. I know he’s only been gone less than half a day, but it feels like a long time to me. Part of me wishes he had been here last night though. I wouldn’t have let Chris in, which means I wouldn’t have slept with him, which means…

Well, what does that mean?

Maybe if I hadn’t come to the door in a towel and let him take me on the floor – maybe he would have given me an explanation for his absence.

Don’t be stupid!

If he had an explanation he would have given me one. Sleeping with him or not wouldn’t change anything. If he was actually a good guy, he’d show it and tell me why he’d been gone for two years without a word. But if Max had been home, the whole situation could have been avoided – for a while.

The doorbell rings. Thank God. I need something, anything to get my mind off Chris. And what better than my beautiful little boy?

“Coming!” I say, doing my best to sound cheerful as I head to the door. “Thank you so much, Beth—”

I tug open the door and almost fall over. It’s not Beth. It’s not my son. It’s Chris.

“I need to talk to you,” he says. Without waiting for a response, he barges right past me and steps into the house.

“Hey! Hey!” I shout, backing up, trying to get in his way and stop him from getting any further inside. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

“We need to talk,” he says again with a voice that lets me know he’s not going anywhere. I stand in front of him, defenseless again, trying to ignore how devastatingly handsome he is. It’s impossible, so I avert my eyes and cross my arms.

But he doesn’t say anything, and after a while I am forced to look back at him.

“Well?” I say like a brat.

“He’s mine, isn’t he?” He says it like it’s a fact and not a question. I chew my lip and stare back at him without reply.

What do I say?

Part of me wants to tell him the truth, but if I do, that means I’m condemning Max, and me, to a lifetime of an absentee, jerk of a father, coming in and out of his life with absolutely no regularity or reliability.

“You know my father left me?” He says, interrupting my thought process. I look up at him. “Not when I was young. After high school when I got drafted to the league. Just up and left – no explanation. I guess he figured I was a man and would be okay. But it still hurt. It hurt a lot more than I was able to understand until two years ago…”

Chris stops and looks at his feet. I can feel his tension in my chest. I know he’s about to say something important, but I almost don’t want him to. He’s hurting, and it hurts me to see it. He’s always been so strong and invulnerable, both on and off the field, but now I’m seeing a side of him I never knew existed.

“He died two years ago,” he says, the words choking in his throat. “That’s where I went that morning – to Alaska. He moved there when he left Ohio. I was there for a long time, dealing with everything – the funeral, his estate. When I got back we were on the road with games. I could barely focus…”

The pain in his face becomes pain in my heart. I want to reach out and wrap my arms around him, hold him to my chest and tell him everything will be okay. But he needs to get this out, and I need to hear it.

“I thought about you every day,” he says and I feel myself starting to choke up. These are the words I’ve been dreaming to hear for all this time. “But when I got back to Ohio, I couldn’t find you. I went to the diner and you weren’t there. Carla wasn’t there. No one knew where you went.”

Chris laughs to himself and chokes back a sob.

“I actually drove around town hoping to just bump into you. But I never did. You were like this ghost…a memory that I never thought I’d find again. Then it was back on the road, dealing with more of my father’s estate…I never even got your number…”

Chris’s voice trails off and I know he’s reached the end of whatever he’d planned to say. After hearing all that, our arguments seem so petty and absurd. If only he’d said this when he first came over! But there wasn’t any time. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other and then I had to make that snide comment when we were done. That must have hurt him.

Here he is lying next to me wondering how to tell me about his father’s death, and I make some bratty little comment about him ditching me again. What a mess!

“Chris, I’m – I’m so sorry.”

His head hangs at his chest as I step close to him and wrap my arms around his waist. He moves closer to me and rests his chin against my neck and locks his arms around my back. We fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. His heart beats slow and strong against me and I feel his chest rise and fall slowly as he takes deep breaths trying to calm himself down.

He is the man I hope he was…and it took all this time to discover it.

“Chris,” I whisper. “Max – he’s your son.”

Chris doesn’t answer immediately, but somehow I can feel the reaction in his body. He squeezes me harder, presses his head harder against my neck and sighs a sigh of relief.

He wanted Max to be his son.

“I’ll be there for him, Janelle,” he says. “For you and Max.”

I want to believe him…so badly! But Max will be home soon, and if I tell him now that Chris is his father, and Chris leaves again…well, I just can’t let that happen.

Nothing would make me happier now than to have Chris step up and be the man I need him to be, but I cannot rush into things. I did that before and it was the wrong decision. And this time, it’s not just my feelings at stake, it’s my son’s as well.

I open my mouth to speak, but as if Chris can read my mind, he cuts me off.

“You don’t have to answer me now,” he tells me. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that I will be there for you – and Max.”

He pulls back from me and picks something up from the front porch and hands it to me. A tiny little foam football.

“For Max,” he says softly before turning away.

Every fiber of my being wants to scream out, “Don’t go!” But I fight and fight and say nothing. I just watch him walk across the front lawn to his car and drive away.

I’m willing to give him a chance. I’m willing to let him prove himself to me. But I’m not willing to put Max through that process. If Chris is really the man he says he is, he will understand that. And if it all works out, if he proves to me that he meant everything he just said, then we will be together.