Page 35 of The Other Guy

SIERRA

Home.

I look around the small ranch style house that I share with Jeff as I play with Toby, Jeff’s pit bull rescue. Funny how it sure doesn’t feel like home. Aside from Toby, that is. He. He I missed. Jeff? Not at all. Not even a second. We didn’t even check in with each other while I was away. That should probably be fairly telling. I’m not even sure he’ll be happy that I’m home. Home. Such a laughable concept as I look around this cold house. One I don’t have a single touch or influence in because Jeff owns the house and he likes things the way he likes things. His house. His decisions. It never bothered me for some reason. Maybe I always knew it was a temporary situation? A part of me knew that we weren’t meant for more. I felt more at home staying with my uncle Kyle than I have in years.

I went to see Kyle to clear my head, to try and shake the feeling that something wasn’t right between Jeff and myself. Our relationship had gone off course and I needed time to figure out if it was something that could be fixed or if what I feared was true. That we were done. Just like the last four relationships I’d been in. Do I run scared? Yeah. I do. But not without cause. The minute we start to argue, even if it’s just over what to eat for dinner or how to load the dishwasher, I start plotting my escape. I don’t try to. In fact, I try to stop the urge and convince myself that I’m overreacting.

I didn’t have a terrible upbringing. It just wasn’t… ideal. My parents… loved me, but their marriage wasn’t even close to normal. Dad would leave for weeks only to return, begging forgiveness. Then it would be our version of normal for a few months before it was Mom’s turn to leave for weeks. It was a sick pattern they repeated again and again. Unhealthy. Hate turned to love which turned right back to hate. They loved deeply but hated just as much. I never understood my family was different. I thought it was how marriages worked.

Until I began going to friends’ houses and saw what parents and family life was really like.

Until I got to high school and started dating and every relationship I was in would end before it had the chance to really begin.

Until I kept running from boyfriends because I thought it was normal, to be with someone you despised one second and liked or loved the next and they didn’t agree. Shocking as that may seem. That was sarcasm, in case you weren’t aware.

I fall in like. I fall in lust. But never true love. Never. Love isn’t warm and fuzzy. It’s screaming and hate-filled and sadness.

When I met Jeff, I was content being alone. But he made me laugh and we agreed that marriage was something neither of us wanted. What I told Jack when I met him is true, he’s a cool guy. We never argue, though part of that could be because I easily settle. Not because I’m weak and have no opinions of my own, but because I’ve learned that there are only a few things that I need to concern myself with. How a home is decorated or what we fill our bellies with are not important. At least not enough to fight over.

I still believe that, but I’m starting to wonder if there is a possibility that I’ve replaced passion for contentment. Maybe my parents’ marriage was unconventional, but they definitely had passion. I heard that passion.

While it was quite gross to hear, it reminded me that there was love beneath the surface of their tumultuous relationship. Passion. Another laughable concept. I’ve never had it. Never felt it. Well… not never. I have felt the stirrings of it. A stranger turned friend in a matter of minutes who got under my skin and made me feel alive. Who didn’t judge me for my choice of how I make a living. Who let go of a few of his inhibitions when I tagged along on his errands but not once made me feel like I was in the way or a nuisance.

Jack Cole with his sexy hair, kept short on the sides and longer on top and attentive gazes. His physique, even covered by his clothing, does nothing to hide the fact that he works hard in the gym to keep it… well, sexy as hell. Even his hands are sexy. How is that possible? I can’t even describe how a hand could be sexy but his are. Jack’s smile that’s wide and teeth bright white and draws me in, wanting to keep it as a permanent fixture on his beautiful face. The way he listens, truly listens. Jack got under my skin in the too few moments we had together. It was fun and I can’t remember the last time I had fun with anyone, let alone a man who isn’t my uncle Kyle.

I like Jack Cole. I like the way he is with his father. Like who I was when I was around him. I like the fact that he has a few tattoos but isn’t covered by them. I like the fact that everything he does seems intentional, from what he fuels his body with to how he cares so deeply for the gym he owns. Teaching and coaching. Supporting his members. He’s a man who gives his all in everything he does. It’s clear as day to me, though I have no actual proof of that. One thing my mother did teach me was that you should trust your gut instinct about a man. My gut tells me Jack Cole is a good man. A man who I want to know more. Which is very unfortunate because of where I currently live. Who I live with.

Toby barks in my face, reminding me that I have been neglecting him as I think through my relationship.

“Sorry, boy. I missed you, too!”

His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he pants, hot stinky breath blowing across my face. “Go get your tennis ball.”

He takes off running like the clumsy oaf he is and returns with a slobbery yellow ball in his mouth, dropping it onto my lap unceremoniously. I toss it and he fetches. His favorite game. Luckily he gets bored after fifteen minutes and chooses instead to cuddle with me on the couch, laying his head on my legs and snoring within minutes.

I relax with Toby, sketching ideas for my online store. I have several notebooks filled already. Something that Jeff often teases me about. It doesn’t matter that I love what I do and make a pretty good living at it as well. He thinks it’s ridiculous and stupid and isn’t afraid to remind me that I make clothes for pets… something most people don’t purchase out of necessity. My job isn’t a career, according to Jeff.

I don’t disagree with him. But, my job is fun. It makes people happy. And there’s not a lot more I could hope for to fill my days. Life is too short to fill the minutes being bored.

The sound of the garage door opening alerts Toby that Jeff is home and he lifts his head, waiting for him to walk through the door. Toby might be Jeff’s dog, but the second I came into Jeff’s life I became his favorite. I feed him and take him for walks. He sleeps by me at night and listens to my commands far more than Jeff’s.

Jeff comes inside, calling out a greeting. “Hey, babe. You’re home?”

He walks around the corner, handsome in his light blue dress shirt and gray pressed pants. Always so put together. Such a contradiction to Jack who lived in casual clothes — or workout clothes when at the gym. And black. Everything he wore was black. It was sexy.

“Yup,” I answer simply.

He kisses me on the cheek. No passion. No… love.

We’re roommates who feel more than friendship but less than anything romantic.

Ugh, how do I get myself into these situations?

“How was your trip?” He sits down next to me, throwing an arm over the back of the couch and crossing one leg over the other. He reaches over and scratches the top of Toby’s head before rubbing my shoulder.

“Great.”

“And your uncle Kyle?”

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