“So… how you been, Bro?”

“Great,” I said.

I was hammering on a punching bag and Jesse was looking at me like I wasn’t fucking great at all. More like I’d grown horns out of my head. That cautious tone of voice really fucking irritated me.

Since the wedding, everyone had been talking to me like that.

Well, since I’d walked Jessa back to her cabin and told her she broke my heart, and she blew me the fuck off, and I started leaving a trail of broken shit in my wake.

I didn’t know you were in love with me, and it’s not my fault if you were.

Fuck.

Couldn’t they all just get a fucking clue? I didn’t wanna talk. Usually, Jesse was fine with that. Heart-to-hearts with his bros weren’t exactly his forte. But he did have a gym in his house, and I definitely felt like punching things. A lot.

I hadn’t counted on Jude being here, though.

Jude had little patience for other people’s bullshit, just like I did, so usually that worked for me. But when he said, “He means what the fuck’s up your ass?” I started to seriously regret dropping by. “You’ve been wearing that ugly face all week. You know, you keep scowling like that, it might get stuck.”

I threw an ugly look his way and kept punching.

“Think about it. How’re you gonna get laid, that happens? Your sparkling personality isn’t gonna do it.”

I ignored him.

“He’s right,” Jesse put in. “Ladies like to laugh, and you’ve got shit for jokes. Good thing you’ve got money.”

They were fucking with me. Trying to make me laugh, ease up a bit. Or piss me off enough that I snapped and maybe flipped out of this shit mood I was in.

I glanced over at them, where Jude was spotting Jesse on the bench press. “How about you girls worry about your own pretty faces, yeah?”

I caught Jude throwing a sideways glance at Jesse. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Jessa coming back to town, huh?”

I turned my focus back to the punching bag. “Broke up with Amanda.”

Yeah, that sounded convincing. A convenient excuse for the rotten funk I’d been in. And it was true; I’d broken up with her as soon as we got back from the wedding. Which sucked, in a way, because there was a whole lot to like about Amanda. She was smart, compassionate, pretty, athletic, and seriously into me. Plus, she hadn’t broken my heart, so she had that going for her.

If I’d never met Jessa Mayes, I probably could’ve seriously fallen for an Amanda.

But I did meet Jessa Mayes. I met her when I was young, angry and had shit all in the way of love in my life, and that lonely eight-year-old girl with the big brown eyes made me smile for the first time in a long time.

She made me smile a lot, back then.

Never mind that the woman she’d grown into had caused me more pain than anyone else I’d ever known. Any way I tried to get around it, there was no denying it. Jessa Mayes was in my motherfucking bones.

She always had been.

Amanda wasn’t the reason I’d been walking around slamming doors, rattling windows and breaking shit that got in my way.

And even Amanda knew it.

“It’s her, right?” she’d asked me, just as I was about to walk out of her life. “Jessa,” she said. “The rose on your hand.”

It’d taken me kind of aback. I’d never told anyone the meaning behind that tattoo.

She’d just shrugged and said, “You stare at it a lot. And… you stare at her a lot.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

And yeah, the rose was for her.

I’d had it done nine years ago, at a time when things between us were getting really fucked up. It was on my right palm, at the base of my thumb. Just a small rose entangled in thorny vines, to mark the spot where, even though things between us were fucked up, she’d kissed me at my father’s funeral.

It was the only way I could think of to somehow ink Jessa Mayes onto my body and not raise too many eyebrows. And I had to ink her onto my body. Had to have her with me, to remind myself that there was something between us, something real… or at least there had been, once, even if it was temporarily fucked up.

At the time, I’d really believed it was temporary.

“She okay, man?”

Jesse was still eying me across the gym, and all I could think was: How the fuck would I know?

Then I realized he wasn’t asking about Jessa.

I took a break to guzzle some water before I sweat out my body weight and passed out. “Yeah,” I said, but I had no idea if that was true.

I honestly hadn’t thought about it.

Since I’d walked away from Amanda after telling her it was over, I’d felt nothing in that direction but a sense of relief, of finality, the likes of which I’d never come close to feeling toward Jessa.

I went back at the bag with a vengeance. Because what the fuck else was I gonna do to keep from losing my mind?

I hadn’t seen her for days. Not since I’d confronted her at the church and basically told her to leave. She hadn’t returned the phone call I’d made to her this morning and she wasn’t responding to my texts.

Nothing fucking new, right?

And yet, it still gutted me.

I wouldn’t have thought there was anything left for Jessa Mayes to take, since she’d already eviscerated my heart and soul so many years ago. But apparently there was still shit for her to carve out of me…

I could still feel her, damp and near-naked, her silky bra and panties clinging to her as she wrapped her goddess-like body around me, rubbing herself against me. Could still feel her heartbeat, her heat and her need.

Could still taste her as she kissed me, like she’d been starving for my kisses all her life.

Could still hear her, her helpless whimpers… gasping with anticipation… and singing by that fire in the night with a smile on her face.

I could still feel the long, smooth curve of her thigh as I slid that frilly garter up… up…

I’m not wearing any underwear.

Shit.

How the hell was I supposed to let her go again? When I’d glimpsed the pain and the regret in her eyes? When I’d held her, all drunk and vulnerable in my arms? Worse, I’d felt the hunger that was still there between us. A hunger that had never been sated.

Jessa wanted me. And still… she was running from me.

This time, maybe I was running too.

This morning, I’d driven past the church. I didn’t stop. Not because she might be there. Because what if she wasn’t? What if we were losing her again?

What if we were losing her because of what I’d said?

There’s nothing you can do. Except leave now if that’s what you’re gonna do.

After I passed the church, I drove back into town and over to Roni’s place, since it was nowhere near my route coming back from the church. Yeah, pretty much like a stalker would.

I didn’t even know what the fuck I was planning to do or say if I saw her. If Jessa was even there. Even when I’d called her, I didn’t know what I would say.

Apologize again?

Beg her to stay with the band again?

Fat fucking lot of good that ever did.

I was just making up my mind not to stop, to just drive on by, when I saw her. A few blocks from Roni’s, standing at the curb, waiting for the light to change so she could cross the street. She was carrying a takeout coffee from JJ Bean and gazing off into nothing; not vacantly, but the way she used to when she was working out a song in her head. It was just about to rain but she had no umbrella, no jacket. Her hair was twirled up into a messy knot thing on top of her head. She was wearing Ray-Bans and pink Chucks and ripped jeans, and a T-shirt that said Rock ’N’ Roll Stole My Soul. Looking just that little bit awkward, like she always did: like some angel fallen to Earth, trying to pass as a regular person.

She was right there, in the same city as me, right on the street across from me, and we weren’t even talking.

I was nowhere near the neighborhood and just thought I’d swing by to stare at you and not say a damn thing. Cool?

I didn’t stop. I kept right on driving. I drove to Jesse’s house and headed for the gym. I didn’t even have workout clothes with me. I just took off my shirt and started punching things.

At least I was working out like a fiend. If I could remember to eat once in a while, if I could get some sleep, I’d probably be feeling pretty damn good. Physically, at least.

As it was, I was just trying to beat the shit out of myself and in the process pummel the anger and frustration and impotence away, the powerlessness that overtook me whenever I got in the same room with Jessa. Whenever I was reminded of how she’d crushed me, all those years ago… over and over again. And the memories… all the fucking memories that were coming back to bite me completely in the ass.

Because in every single one of them, I’d fucked up.

At least maybe I’d eventually exhaust myself so I could sleep.

I caught Jesse’s eyes on me again, and Jude’s. They weren’t even lifting anymore. Just watching me, and once in a while throwing each other a look, doing that annoying best-friends-forever mind-reading shit they did.

What the fuck was I doing here?

“Heading home,” I said abruptly, yanking my shirt over my sweaty torso and heading for the door.

“Shit, Bro, you can take a shower if—”

I slammed the door behind me before I could hear the end of that sentence. What the fuck did I have to say to anyone anyway? I couldn’t be around people like this.

I couldn’t even stand myself.

At least tomorrow I was getting the fuck out of town.