Page 87 of Unspoken Confessions
31
Nick
It had been three weeks since Jameson walked out of my life.
Three weeks since my psycho stalker had tried to gun me down and ended up dead.
Dead.
I shuddered thinking about that night.
I almost lost Jen. And that was more important than the fact that I’d been the target for that bullet. Oh, God. I couldn’t even think about it without breaking out into a sweat and feeling like I was going to puke. Most of the time, I did actually find myself running for the bathroom. I probably needed to find someone professional to talk to but I was… trying to hold it in and deal with it on my own. I know, look how that had worked out for me in the past. Not so good. It still wasn’t working. But I couldn’t.
I had wanted to reach out to Jameson but hadn’t had the guts to actually dial his number or send that text I kept typing out.
Big surprise right there, huh?
Even just a simpleI miss youkept getting stuck in my head. Simple words. Simple text. But it never made it past my brain.
I was a pathetic mess and I knew it. I’d even taken Jen and ran to the opposite coast. I used the excuse that I couldn’t stay in that house because everywhere I turned I was reminded of how scary my life had gotten. And while that was true, the real reason I’d moved us to my condo in LA had more to do with the fact that I could feel Jameson’s ghost touch in nearly every room I walked into. That only reminded me how chicken shit I was. So yeah, LA was the best place to take care of Jen while he recovered. I had to admit, it wasn’t horrible having him as a roommate. At least I wasn’t alone.
I let out a sad breath.
Yep, big ole pathetic, miserable mess, right here.
And while I missed Jameson horribly, I was scared to take that next step. He’d made it clear it was mine to take and that he wasn’t going to force me.
I wasn’t ready.
Or maybe I was trying to figure out the right moment. How the hell was I supposed to come out? I didn’t have a clue, not for someone like me with so many eyes on me all the time.
But I was working on it.
I swear.
“I’m hungry,” Jen said as he walked through the living area to get to the kitchen. “You?”
“No. Thanks though.”
I heard the fridge open, and then close a minute later. He came sauntering out of the kitchen and took a seat right next to me on the couch.
He was still healing, but he was mostly back to normal now. He could use his left arm pretty freely, but every now and then if he moved too quickly, I’d see him wince in pain. He never talked about it. In fact, he told me never to bring it up. I didn’t, not even when he was whining and bitching while staying on my couch back in Atlanta. I would take every minute of it because it meant he was alive to do those things.
He opened his yogurt and, in his very Jen-like way, ate a spoonful. Which included him licking the spoon after he’d pulled it out of his mouth. Sometimes, I wondered if he was even aware of the things he did.
“This isn’t what I want,” he said and took another spoonful into his mouth before setting it down on the coffee table. “Alright. So…”
I looked at him, brow raised as I waited for him to finish his thought.
“Are we going to talk about it?” he asked.
No, we were not going to talk about it. We hadn’t so far and I definitely didn’t want to start now. I’d avoided talking about anything Jameson-related since I let him walk out of my life. And while I wasn’t hiding it well, I also didn’t care to bring it up. Guilt and sadness hit swirled in my gut and I held in a deep sigh.
“Okay, so we’re still avoiding. Fine.” And there was that stupid brush of his hair thing. At least he was dropping it. “Well, in that case…”
If I wasn’t mistaken, he looked a tad bit nervous for a moment there. He reached for his leather messenger bag that he’d brought out a little while ago.
Now I felt a little unsure about what was to come. If he was nervous then I had a huge reason to be too. Jen didn’t get nervous. I swallowed hard as he turned back toward me.
