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Tara
I didn’t sleep much, even though my body wanted it. My mind was too loud and too angry, and my heart was too hurt. It was an invisible wound, bleeding in my chest where no one could see, but I felt it with every painful breath.
Everyone had lied, which was hard to handle, but I wasn’t sure I’d survive Grant’s latest betrayal. He hadn’t just lied, he’d deceived. He’d stolen from me. Taken something I didn’t want shared with anyone else. Had he learned nothing from what his ex-girlfriend had done to him? This was a million times worse.
On top of all that, he’d let me squirm on a hook of guilt for more than a month as I wrestled with revealing what I did for a living. I’d had massive angst it was going to drive him away. But he already knew, and had just played along, making me a total fool.
All so he could get his precious story.
As I stood in front of the apartment door, a cardboard tray of Starbucks coffee in one hand and a paper bag of blueberry scones in the other, I fractured. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to have to do this.
Suck it up and get it over with.
I knocked on the door, and a moment later, footsteps approached.
When it swung open, Hector stood there, wearing a white t-shirt, plaid patterned pants, and his hair was askew. I knew they’d been awake for a few hours, but it was a lazy Sunday for them. He was in his late forties, patches of gray in his short beard, and in great shape. I’d passed him plenty of times as he was leaving or coming back from a morning run.
“Hi,” I said, mustering a bright tone when I was all darkness inside. “We haven’t officially met, but I’m Tara. I live downstairs.”
“Hey, there.” He didn’t seem put out by my intrusion, just confused. “I’m Hector. Is Brad being too loud? I know he’s a heavy walker.”
Between the two of them, I was sure Hector was worse, but I said nothing. I was barely holding it together. “These are for you.” I shoved the tray and the bag at him. “Coffee and scones.”
His confusion shifted into worry as he cautiously took them from me. “Um, thank you. Is everything okay?”
I pressed my lips together and tried to nod but couldn’t. My eyes watered. “I was wondering if I could ask you and Brad,” I sucked in a calming breath, “for a really big favor?”
Hector shifted the contents in his hands. Was he nervous I was going to ask for money? Or worse . . . a ride to O’Hare?
Brad appeared over Hector’s shoulder. He was younger than his partner by a few years. He was handsome, but when he smiled, the dimples came out and made him seriously cute. “Hi, neighbor,” he said casually, but picked up on Hector’s mood right after and turned serious. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but my,” I stumbled with the right word, “ex-boyfriend is coming over soon to return something, and I was hoping you guys wouldn’t mind hanging out with me while that happens.”
Both men’s eyes went wide.
“Did he threaten you?” Hector asked. “If you don’t feel safe, you should call the police.”
“No, no, it’s not like that.” God, this was embarrassing. “It’s just, he’s going to want to talk to me, and I don’t want to hear it. He needs to drop off my book and leave, and I don’t want to . . . cave.”
Brad’s mouth rounded into an ‘oh.’ “You need to stay strong about kicking his ass to the curb.”
“Yes. If you guys are with me, he won’t push as hard for a conversation.” Because Grant wouldn’t talk about the contents of my journal or the blindfold club in front of strangers, would he? “I’m sorry to spring this on you, but he’s going to be here soon, and my friend isn’t available.”
Elena was with her mother, whose church was across town. I didn’t see the point in her coming all the way here for something that would hopefully take two minutes.
Brad hung his arm around Hector’s neck, who responded by putting his hand on top of his partner. It was a loving gesture, wordlessly communicating they were a united front.
Hector’s voice was full of understanding. “Of course.”
The silver lining to the whole terrible situation was I got to know my neighbors while we waited for Grant’s arrival, and they were the nicest guys. They didn’t pry for details, but also didn’t shy away when I got emotional. We were strangers to each other, but it didn’t feel that way.
Maybe it was because we’d all heard each other’s orgasms.
“What are you doing tonight?” Brad asked, sipping the coffee I’d brought him. He was lounging on my couch while Hector perused the titles on my bookshelf. “We’re going over to our friend’s place to watch the Bears game. You should come.”
“Oh, thank you, but I’m not a football fan.” American football wasn’t rugby, but it was close, and I didn’t want the reminder.
“I don’t watch the ‘sports ball’ either,” he said with a grin. “I usually end up playing Beerio Kart with the other people who got dragged there by their partners.”
I gave a dubious look. “Beerio Kart?”
“Mario Kart with beer,” Hector said, reading the dust jacket of one of the books.
Brad shrugged off his partner’s flat tone. “Everyone has a can of beer, and you have to be done with it before you cross the finish line. But drinking and driving is illegal, so you can’t race while you’re drinking.”
“Yes,” Hector said, “he’s in his forties and still plays drinking games.”
Brad scoffed. “Whatever. He’s just mad because I always beat him.”
Hanging out with Hector and Brad’s friends was better than being alone. “That sounds fun,” I said. “You’ve convinced me.”
“Awesome. I’ll text Shawn and let him—”
The knock on my front door sucked the warmth from the room.
I was standing near the dining table, and as Brad got up to answer the door, Hector moved beside me. I couldn’t tell if it was protective, or supportive, or both. I curled my hands around the back of a chair, using it to keep me steady.
Grant looked like hell.
There were dark circles beneath his eyes, announcing he’d probably gotten as much sleep as I had. He hadn’t shaved. He’d showered and changed clothes, but he couldn’t wash off what he’d done. He was coated in guilt and misery.
He’d been expecting me to answer the door, and when he came face to face with Brad, the first thing he did was check the number on my apartment. Slow realization dawned in him as he understood I didn’t want to be alone with him.
It hurt to see him looking so distraught, but then there was my journal in his hands, and that made everything hurt. Needles stabbed at my eyes, filling them with tears. A hive of angry bees swarmed in my stomach. I couldn’t stand to look at him and turned my head away.
“Tara.” Hearing my name in his broken, defeated voice was a punch to my gut.
Brad’s tone was firm. “You have something for her? I’ll take it, and you can go.”
“What? No, I’m not giving this to you.” He sounded horrified. “I need to talk to her.”
“No, man. That’s not going to happen.”
“Tara,” Grant pleaded. “Please. Look at me.”
I squeezed the chairback so hard, my hands ached. Don’t do it. Do not look at him.
His eyes were wild. He was a mess, and while the angry part of me took pleasure in that, the rest of me suffered along with him.
“It was an accident,” he said. “I didn’t mean to take it. If we could just talk, I can explain.”
I went down to the place inside myself where I was safe from emotion. Cut off completely from feeling anything. It wasn’t subspace—the euphoric place I could reach sometimes while doing a scene—but a disconnected void.
I didn’t recognize my own voice. “Did you read it?”
Shame was a terrible, heavy burden, and he put a hand on the doorframe to support himself. “Yes.”
The bees in my stomach got angrier, threatening to come out. I swallowed a shallow breath. “All of it?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
Which meant he knew all my sins. Every dark detail I’d put down on paper, which had only been meant for me. I wasn’t going to buy any excuse or explanation on how he’d “accidentally” read the entire thing. No one had forced him to, or to steal it in the first place. Those were choices he’d made, and now we were both going to have to live with them.
“We have nothing to talk about.” My skin was cold and unfeeling. “Give me my journal and get the fuck out. I don’t ever want to see you again.”