Since the moment the plane touched down, I’ve been waring with myself over whether making this trip was a good or bad choice. I haven’t been home in a year, haven’t spoken to my parents in months, but the need to escape all my troubles only seemed to escalate with each passing day as the school year wound down. School is out now, so I really have nothing tying me to Miami for the next few months.
If I had to describe my first year teaching in Miami, I’d define it as tumultuous. The job itself was no different than any other teaching assignment I’ve had before, but the ongoing problems with Sunny put a damper on what would have otherwise been a rather uneventful year.
The lackluster support I received from the principal spurned me into taking my concerns and issues up with the Superintendent of Schools. In the end, Sunny was reprimanded, her parents were notified, and she was transferred to a different school to finish out her remaining weeks. I should have felt relieved, but the teacher in me felt like I’d failed her somehow. That if I’d been able to talk some sense into her, we could have avoided the entire fiasco.
Between all the issues with Bella and the residual uneasiness that remains about the uncomfortable situation at school, escaping was the sanest thing I could do. Putting distance between me and all my problems sounded like a good idea, initially. Now in retrospect, I realize all I’ve done is trade one shit-storm for the other.
I haven’t heard from Bella in over a month, not since that out of the blue text message she sent. I’ve waited patiently, figuring she’ll come around eventually. That has yet to happen and even though I will continue to wait for her, I can’t do it knowing she’s just a few floors down from me and I made a promise to stay away.
Fuck that. I’m tired of waiting and wondering and worrying. I love her deeply, but I think every man has his tipping point, and I’ve finally reached mine. I was so certain that our reconnection in the fitness room would change things for the better between us, but as each day has gone on and the silence remains, my hope for reconciliation has faded too.
Which leads me here to Seattle, to my childhood home and to the parents who now look at me awkwardly, uncertain of what to say. I’ve been here for a week, and we’ve yet to have a real conversation. They ask how school is, ask to see pictures of my apartment, but the rest is just surface stuff. They never ask about Jack, even when I mention him in passing. It’s as if they’ve severed all emotional ties to the one person who I’m more connected to than anyone. Fuck, it hurts. I will never, ever understand their reasons for cutting off their own child, but nothing I can do or say is going to change that or them.
If I thought I was escaping my troubles by leaving Miami, I’ve sure as hell added to them by coming home. Not what I wanted, that’s for sure. I wanted to come here, hang out for a few weeks and get my shit together. But since I find it more than difficult to hang out at the house and watch my parents treat me like a stranger, I find myself wandering through Pike Place Market frequently to escape—just as I am today. I lose myself in the vibrant mix of tourists and locals, in the smell of fresh bread baking and the scent of fish and salt water in the air. I wander past the various vendors, my head lost in the clouds. I pass bins filled with colorful fruit, others with an overflow of fresh vegetables, and eventually weave past the various craft booths.
This place is so alive with energy it’s difficult to stay inside my own head. Not that I want to since my head is a jumbled-up mess of crap that exhausts me to no end. Coming to Seattle, while a nice break from the invisible ties that hold me to Miami, was nothing more than an escape. Ironic, really, that while Bella was always the one to run, now I finally appreciate her need to do so.
“Jace Austin, is that you?”
The soft, sweet voice from behind me sounds familiar. When I turn to look, I see an old high school friend I haven’t seen in years. Angie Silvera was always a beauty, but she’s a fucking knockout now. Long, dirty blond hair frames a heart-shaped face. Her hazel eyes dance as she moves close to embrace me, pressing her breasts against my chest causing a little thrill to skirt up my spine. Oh yeah, I remember exactly what Angie can do with that curvy little body of hers. I should. After all, I spent a lot of time in it a lifetime ago.
Angie and I were never officially a couple, but we sure fucked like one. We took any opportunity we could to be alone. Didn’t matter where it was or who might be looking, we went at it like rabbits. I remember always being a little intimated by her, the self-assured beauty who literally came right out and told me she wanted to fuck me. Angie never could hold her tongue, that’s for sure. Horn-dog that I was, I took full advantage of her easiness and her willingness to drop to her knees and service me time and time again.
“How are you, Angie?”
Releasing me from her hold, she takes a step back and boldly looks me over. “I’m fine. But you, my friend, you look amazing.”
Smirking, I reply, “So do you.”
“I heard you moved to Miami.” She grins and slides her hand down my chest. “That’s too bad.”
I haven’t seen her since the day we graduated when I pulled her behind the Science building and went down on her right there in broad daylight. That’s the thing about Angie, she was always turned on by the idea of getting caught, of being seen. Makes me wonder if as she’s matured she’s taken that to new and different heights. I wish I were interested enough to ask.
Smiling, I take a small step back and run my hand through my hair. “Miami is great.”
She cocks her hip and folds her arms under her bountiful breasts. “I’ve never been there.” She glances around the bustling market. “Never been anywhere, really.” Then she points over her shoulder. “I just started this jewelry business a few years ago, so chances are I won’t be going anywhere soon.”
“Good for you, Ang.” I follow behind as she leads me into her space and points out a few pieces she’s recently made. I knew Angie was a talent even back in high school. Not only could she work my cock with her tongue like an expert, but she could draw and paint and sculpt too.
My eyes skim over the glass cases of earrings and bracelets, taking in the exquisite perfection of silver mixed with jewels. She always had a knack for appreciating beautiful things, but this goes above and beyond that.
She continues to talk and point, but all I can think about is that Bella would love this stuff. She’s not big on wearing a lot of jewelry, but I sure as hell could see one of these delicate bracelets on her slim wrist or a fragile silver chain at rest around her neck.
“How long are you in town?”
I shrug and move on to the next case. “Depends. A week or so, I guess.”
She places her hand on my lower back as she points toward a piece she recently made. “We should get together. Have a drink.”
While hanging out with Angie would be a great way to stay out of the house and keep my mind off my problems, I know exactly what will happen. Frankly, I don’t believe I’m strong enough to tell her no. I’ve still got the sting of rejection floating through me and the past month of silence sure as hell hasn’t helped. Fucking Angie would be a great way to escape my life, but I doubt I could face Bella ever again knowing I’d used another woman to avoid waiting for her.
“Maybe,” I utter, my attempt to let her down easy.
Angie snickers and props her hip against the glass. “You got yourself a girlfriend, Mr. Austin?”
I shrug and mimic her pose. “I’m not sure.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Well, honey, if you’re not sure I’d say that you don’t.” Her manicured nails scrape the scruff on my jawline. “I’d say you are free and available to do anything your heart…” Hazel eyes drift down between my legs “…or your body desires.”
Fuck, if I don’t feel a twinge of need right where her eyes land. What I don’t need is to respond physically to another woman, not when my head is so fucked-up over Bella and has been for months. Technically, I’m not obligated to remain faithful. We are not a couple anymore and if the past weeks are any indication, we might not ever be. While my cock has a mind of its own, so does my heart. And there’s only one woman who it beats for.
Stepping aside, I move to the last case. This one is filled with a large variety of rings. Some are simple, entwined strands of silver with one or two small stones. Some are elaborate and heavy and admittedly rather gaudy. Whatever floats your boat, I think as my eyes skim over the variety. And right there, tucked into the last row, is the one my eyes lock onto—the one I know I have to have.
The ring is more on the simple side, two tiny bands of silver with a scroll of silver and jewels holding them together. The jewels are all different in hue, though each one has a blue tint and a shimmery surface. It’s beautifully elegant … and exactly what I could see myself slipping onto Bella’s finger.
“Can I see that one?” I point to it and watch impatiently as she unlocks the case and slides the grouping of rings out.
She hands it to me with a wide grin. “Looks like you’re more sure about her place in your life than you originally thought.”
I shrug and slide the ring onto my pinky finger turning it so that the light dances off the jewels. “What are these stones?”
“Blue opals.”
I may have no fucking idea where Bella and I stand with one another, but if I don’t buy this ring for her I might as well accept that I’ve given up hope and take Angie up on her offer of drinks … and more. Giving up is not in my nature, but neither is being a pussy. All these ups and downs for the past six months have left me in search of my manhood, that’s for sure.
Maybe I am a pussy after all, laying my heart on the line and letting her pull me along by my dick. But the thing about Bella is that I cannot—I will not believe she does so intentionally. As confused as I am about where I stand with her, she’s just as confused about her place in the world. She’s spent so many years running and hiding behind a fake smile, I doubt she even knows who she really is.
And there’s no way in hell I’m going to walk away. Not now.
“I’ll take it,” I state, handing the ring back to Angie and extracting my wallet from my back pocket.
She smiles, not looking the least bit wounded at my rejection. That’s another thing about Angie: if she couldn’t get what she needed from me, she had no problem looking elsewhere. Apparently that hasn’t changed in the years since I last caught up with her.
She wraps up my purchase and waves a business card in front of my nose as I sign the credit card receipt. “If you change your mind, call me.”
Leaning over the case, I drop a kiss on her cheek. “Good seeing you, Ang. Take care of yourself.”
“Good seeing you too, Jace.”
Package in hand, I move back through the market, a wide smile lining my face for the first time in weeks. I suppose it could be a mistake investing my hard-earned money in something that is so unpredictable. Lord knows I’m not exactly flush, but I do have a nice little nest egg I’ve tucked away over the years. Besides, I muse as I step outside into the sunshine, any amount of money I spend will be worth it if Bella comes back to me. When she comes back to me.
I’ll bide my time, enjoy my trip, and stay long enough to get my priorities straight. Then I’m getting on a plane and flying home to wait for my girl to find her peace and return to me. Maybe that makes me a pussy. Or maybe I love her so damn much I’m willing to give her whatever she needs be it space, time, or distance.
I have to believe that one day, someday, she’ll come strolling back into my life and declare she’s mine. I’m willing to wait for her because she’s worth it. I’m willing to wait as long as possible because I can’t imagine my life without her in it. I love her enough to take a step back and allow her time to heal, time to accept that she deserves to be happy, and that I’m the one she should spend the rest of her life with.