Last Call (29 page)

“Because I can’t love you back, Mariah.” His words are barely a whisper, but they are loud enough to prick my eyes with tears.

“Why?” I whisper back.

“I don’t have what you have. I didn’t grow up with a happy childhood or someone who gave a shit about me. I bounced from place to place when I was relinquished to the state. These are people who were merely collecting a check, and they didn’t give a shit about my well-being or me. They sure as hell didn’t love me. I’m not even sure I know what real love is.”

“This”—I point to my heart and choke back the desperation—“what I am saying to you and how you’re feeling about me. That is real love.”

His head turns, his gaze going right to my eyes. It’s then I see the weak soul underneath his guarded armor. “I’ve never had anyone, and that is the only way I know how to survive. Everything I’ve achieved, it was all done by me and me alone. If I allow you to love me and allow myself to succumb to this feeling for you, then there will be nothing to protect
me
from surviving the loss when you eventually leave.”

This is a side of Jason I am convinced no one has seen. Then it comes back to me, the comment in his house when he said it was the first time someone has been in his apartment. It was true. Until Royce and me, Jason has never allowed anyone from the outside into his life.

I turn my head and look at Jason, hunched over holding his head in his hands. “Jason, I won’t leave,” I plead, hoping to God he hears me.

He feels like he cannot afford to love, but he’s so very wrong. I know he is capable because I can feel it with every ounce of my body, with every touch of his hand, and with every kiss of his lips. Jason Cain is meant to be in my life, and I’m meant for him.

“Yes… you will.” He stands from the bed, quickly grabs his stuff, and before I can even pull of scrap of clothing over my body, he is gone.

M
ariah

W
ell… I was right. I was so fucking right I should have won the grand frickin’ prize on Jeopardy or some shit. I knew Jason was going to break me, and I knew it would be the death of any hopeful feelings I conjured up. Jason has ripped hope from my heart, and left me to stew in the longing and pain. I fucking hate him right now! In fact, I fucking hate all men right now! They are all spineless pieces of shit, and when the feelings start to get real, they bail. They fucking leave without ever looking back, and it’s us women who are forced to deal with their dumbass ways.

One week ago, I was abandoned at the hotel as Jason left me with a rental car and no words of goodbye. Luckily, Royce was spending the week with my parents and didn’t have to witness my dismantled state the entire seven-hour trip home. My son isn’t oblivious, though. He knows something is wrong, and when Wendi brings him home today, he will surely ask me what my problem is. How could he not?

I’ve been crying for the last seven days. My nose has permanently turned the color red, and I sound like a freaking snot monster. Then there’s my appearance. Yeah… there’s no getting around my disheveled hair, swollen eyes, and the ugliest article of clothing I own—my pink snowflake pajamas. These are only reserved for really emotionally or physically draining situations. Their fuzzy, soft material provides me comfort as I wallow in self pity and cry like the stupid girl I am.

I hate when women get all broken up over a man, yet here I am, mourning a relationship that was never supposed to happen. Like the dumbass I am, I allowed myself to fall head over heels for the infamous playboy, only to be drowning in heartache when it’s all said and done.

The most frustrating part about Jason and my relationship is his feelings toward anything we had. I know he feels something more for me. I could see the longing in his eyes. I could feel the heartbreak as he flashed me his sad gaze before storming out of the room. Jason is afraid of allowing anyone into his protected fortress that is his heart, though. He would rather watch me crumble and break down than take the chance on his heart. I should hate him for this, and I constantly toggle back and forth between the hate and the love, but when I think about the real Jason, there’s no way I can hate him. He knows nothing about love, and he refuses to gamble with it.

I wipe my stray tears just as the door pops open and Royce comes flying through. Great! There is no way I can hide my sadness now.

I look over to the TV, thinking I can convince him I was watching a sad show, but the TV isn’t even fucking on! I haven’t even come close to turning on the TV this entire week. All I’ve done is sit on my couch and cry. No friends, no work, barely any food—simply bawling like a baby all damn week.

“Mama!” Royce shouts as he runs to my lap. I take a deep breath and hold my son in return. As his embrace makes me liven up a bit, I feel somewhat human again. Perhaps this is what I’ve needed, my adorable son.

“Hey, baby. Did you have fun with Papa and Grandma this week?” I ask, still holding my son’s body against my chest.

“Yeah! We went fishing, and Papa let me drive the boat,” Royce says. Then, as he leans back, he soon takes notice of my appearance, and I know I will need to address his questions. “You okay, Mama? You look like poopy.”

“I’m okay, love. Can you give me a minute with Aunt Wendi, and then you and I can have a superhero movie night?”

“Like, popcorn and skittles for supper? And I can drink Dr. Pepper with barbeque chips and ice cream sundaes?” Royce’s eyes light up, and I smile in return. He will be the best therapy my heart can have.

“Whatever you want,” I answer.

After Royce gives me a quick kiss then goes into his room, I can hear the clambering as he drags out his toys and the really cute conversations kids have as they play.

Wendi looks over to me. She knows. She is almost like my twin in that aspect. We are very close in age, but she has this sixth sense when it comes to anything bothering me. It’s almost like she feels it, too. When I move over on the couch, she slowly lowers her pregnant body to the cushions. The tears pool and hold in my eyes; I know I’m about to breakdown.

“So… is it Jason?” Wendi says.

“Yep.”

“Do want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

Wendi grabs my hand and silently holds my palm in hers as I release the hot tears. I am able to control the full on sobs by only slightly whimpering. The pad of her thumb runs along my knuckle, stroking my skin in comfort.

“I’m sorry. I should have never invited him, but I was so sure you guys were perfect. I watched how he looked at you, and when you were together at the reception, it was just so… right. I know I can be pushy sometimes, but I want so much for you to be happy. You, of all people, deserve it.”

“I’m glad you pushed him to come. That weekend was one of the best in my life, until he told me he couldn’t say he loved me and left.” I clear my throat and use the back of my free hand to wipe the tears clinging to the end of my chin. “I know he loves me, but he won’t allow himself to just do it. And that’s the part that hurts the most. He’s preventing himself from being happy because he is afraid I will leave him.”

“You never know, Mariah. Jason may realize someday soon that he made a huge mistake and come groveling back.” Wendi turns to me, and I finally look up into her gaze. She, too, has tears collecting in her eyes. “Would you take him back?”

“I don’t know. I can’t risk feeling this way again, and what about Royce? He didn’t just walk out on me; he walked out on my son, too. I guess I had too much belief this would all work out.” Nothing could have put the nail in the coffin more than realizing the amount of hope I had invested in my feelings for Jason, only to be crushed by his cowardice.

Wendi left about an hour after she dropped Royce off. Her husband had been waiting in the car because he was too busy watching the big game on his phone to even attempt to get out of it. I suppose with four kids and one on the way it’s hard to get quiet time to watch a baseball game.

I move to the kitchen and start popping popcorn for Royce and my movie night. He is looking through the Netflix options and settles on the only movie he’s obsessed with,
The Avengers.
We’ve seen this movie a million times, and I know it will be removed from live streaming soon. I will have to make a store run when that happens.

The smell of the buttery popcorn fills the apartment as the sound of the movie starts to filter through the air. I pull a bowl from the cabinet and dump the hot kernels into the container. Then I move to the fridge, cracking open a couple of cans of soda before shuffling my way to the living room—my tomb for the last seven days, but no more. I have to stop the wallowing to at least function somewhat. 

When I flop down on the couch, Royce pulls the blanket over my legs and snuggles in close. He is normally not a super cuddly guy, especially when we are watching a serious movie like
The Avengers
, but I think he senses my heartache and is doing what he thinks will be comforting. And it is; he will be the biggest healing factor for me.

Several minutes go by before Royce finally addresses the huge elephant in the room. “I thought the next time we watched this move Jason would be here watching it with us.” My heart sinks, knowing he wanted nothing more than to show Jason how cool superheroes can be. “Did he hurt you, Mama?”

What do I say to this? Did Jason hurt me? Well, of course he did, but I’m the fucking idiot who fell in love. I’m the stupid person who should have known better.

“Oh, honey.” I wrap my arm around him and pull him close to my side. “Jason and I are friends, and sometimes friends don’t get along. It’s nothing for you to worry about, though. I will be fine.”

“Well, I’m going to punch him. He told me, remember? He told me if he hurt you, I get to punch him, and I will. I will slug him so hard he will throw up.” As Royce looks up to me, I can’t help smiling at my protector.

“Well, you shouldn’t hit people. There is no need to get all-violent. Now, let’s watch the Hulk kick some butt.”

“Hell, yeah!” Royce says then slaps his hand over his mouth. I simply laugh. We spend the remainder of our night snuggled in each other’s arms.

J
ason

Well, my life sucks! Two weeks ago, I made the decision to fly to Los Angeles until I can get the club up and running. Granted, it’s not something I would normally do, considering Kurt now has trouble handling things, but I couldn’t stand to be in my house, office, or even my car since I left Mariah. She is everywhere I look, and even the solace of the ocean isn’t comforting anymore, which I find very troubling.

The sound of the ocean and the waves rolling onto the shore were always the best way for me to combat any uneasy feelings in life, but not since I left Mariah. The beach now reminds me of her. It reminds me of the day we spent simply having fun. It reminds me of building sandcastles and watching the boats glide across the water with Royce.

Therefore, I did what I do best; I tucked the reminders away and took my jet to LA. I’ve been trying to keep my mind distracted ever since.

The final decision came to take a long break from Miami when I received a very heated text message from Mariah’s sister Wendi a week ago. She is the only person of her friends and family who have my personal cell number, and she sure didn’t hesitate to use it. The text read something like this, “
You spineless, fucking asshole. I hope you enjoyed your weekend of fun with my sister and crushing any hopes of her happiness. I wish nothing but horrible things for you. In fact, I hope your dick falls off, asswipe.”
Yeah, that was unpleasant.

I remember feeling this overbearing, angry emotion flood to my limbs as I tossed my phone against the wall. I’m not angry with her sister for calling it like she sees it; I was and still am fucking pissed at myself. I am spineless because, instead of taking the risk to be with Mariah, I bailed and abandoned her in that hotel room.