Page 35 of Ravaged
It’s selfish; I freely admit it. But I need space. Her admission that she’d accepted Daniel’s invitation to go out on a date had delivered a reality check I needed.
Miriam doesn’t want me—doesn’t see me—how I want her. Our night together hasn’t stopped her from dating other men ... being with other men. And I’m not judging her for that. Far from it. We have no commitment; hell, we’re not even in a relationship. Still ...
Would she find it hilarious that I haven’t fucked a woman since her? It’s like my cock has rebelled at just the thought of being inside another woman when it’s been buried deep inside her.
But I can’t live my life as a monk waiting on a fairy-tale ending.
I might believe in love and finding that special person to spend the rest of your life with, but it doesn’t mean shit if you’re in it alone. And unrequited love makes for good theater, but in real life? It just goddamn sucks.
No, I have to move on. Let the hope of her go. And part of that involves placing some distance between us. Even if she might not understand why. And I can’t explain it to her.
“So she hasn’t told you about our date?” Daniel asks.
“I know she was going out with you, but no. I didn’t know it was a done deal.”
He exhales a heavy breath, the sigh ending on a rough and somewhat grim laugh. Well, that’s not good.
“There’s that, I guess.” He drags a hand over his head. “It was ... bad, man.”
I straighten in my chair, tension zigzagging through me like a jagged lightning bolt.
“Definebad.”
Another one of those awful laughs escapes him, and he shoots me a dry look. “I know I’m out of practice with dating, but damn. It was awkward as hell. Not on her part; believe me.” He holds up his hands, palms out. “This was all on me. Miriam was as funny, smart, and witty as she’d been at Linc’s. Me, though.” Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he closes his eyes. “It’s like every thought just disappeared from my head, because I had no clue what to say to her. Suddenly, I forgot how to hold an intelligent conversation. Shit. It was never this hard with Jerricka. It was just so ... easy.”
Jesus.
The tension seeps from my body, leaving me a heavy bag of bones and muscle. And regret. And pain. For my friend. I can’t even imagine how he’s treading this unfamiliar and scary path. Daniel’s always been a private man, and now that he’s opening up to me? He must be confused and more than a little overwhelmed. I mean, what the fuck do I know about losing a wife and jumping into dating after being with a woman for over a decade?
Trust. He trusts me.
That’s never been clearer to me than in this moment. And what do I do with it? I can’t mishandle it. Can’t damage it or this fledgling attempt to step onto the other side of his grief, his healing.
“From what you told me about you and Jerricka, you two were high school sweethearts, right?”
Daniel nods. “Yes. We met freshman year and were together ever since.”
“You grew up together, were each other’s best friends. There were no secrets between you. Not many people share that kind of bond or love. So yeah, having to actually get to know someone and starting conversations and icebreakers and getting past those awkward silences—it’s harder. Especially when you haven’t had to do it in twenty years. Stop kicking yourself in the ass over it.”
“Thanks, man.” He stares straight ahead at the monitor on the far wall. “I needed to hear that. Just like I’m telling you to cut yourself some grace, I guess I need to remember that. Not that it’s doing me any good with Miriam. I blew that. Horribly.”
“Just call and ask her out again.” Shit. Even given my newfound conviction of moving on, I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth. But I don’t take them back—I can’t. Not with the misery etched on Daniel’s face.
He falls forward, propping his elbows on his thighs. “Yeah, I don’t see that happening,” he scoffs. “She was polite about it, but Miriam couldn’t get out of that restaurant fast enough. There wasn’t even one of those ‘We should do this again’ moments. Because she wasn’t going to. I messed up my chance with her.”
“Daniel, you’re selling Miriam short. She’s not heartless.”
“So you’re saying she’ll go out with me again?”
I hesitate. Damn. “I can’t speak for her. But we’ve been friends awhile, and I know her pretty well. She’s a big fan of honesty. Have you tried being truthful with her about what happened?”
“What?” He huffs out a chuckle, arching an eyebrow. “Call her and say, ‘Hey, Miriam, I know I was a selective mute on our date. But it was my first since my wife died, and I was severely out of practice, nervous as hell, and had no clue what to say to you. But if you give me another chance, I promise to actually talk this time’?”
He shakes his head and is still laughing when I say, “Yeah. That’d be perfect.”
His humor cuts off, and he stares at me like I just announced I’m quitting the team to go find myself on a spiritual hike through the Himalayas.
“Excuse me?”
