Broken Home, page 16
part #4 of Way Home Series
“That was one of the worst parts of the whole thing. Realizing, as I listened to my dad, that I had reached so low he had to ask if I’d hit my wife. That he didn’t know me well enough to be sure I wouldn’t.”
His eyes shine with tears and so badly I want to go to him, to hold him. I don’t, though. I think he needs to say all this, so I swallow all the words bubbling in my throat.
“My dad took me home. Kicked my ass in the driveway. Literally, I had a black eye, and I’m guessing a bruised rib or two by the time we were done ‘talking it out,’ as he put it. I ran out that next night, mad at the world, mostly at myself. Ended up at this bar, and that’s when Jim refused to serve me. Got me to go to AA. I worked the job I hated for a while longer and lived with my parents, which helped me save up so with some of my pension money and the rest of my savings and a decent small business loan, I was able to buy him out and renovate here. It took a couple of hard years, but I lucked out. This place has done so well, I’ve been able to pay off my loan and save up for school funds for the girls while paying Deb most of my pension in child support.”
He’s done so much that’s so amazing. So much good. And yet, he sees none of it. All he sees of himself is in that story. Anger and luck. Not fierce determination and all the work it took to pull himself to where he is.
“The girls, though, it took so long to win them over. I agreed to whatever Deb wanted in the divorce, as long as she wouldn’t fight me seeing them. I couldn’t have done it without my parents when I was starting out. I had a bar I was just getting used to, I still needed to close every night. Mom and Dad made up rooms for the girls and stayed with them overnights. I just tried to cram my time with them where I could. I still haven’t made up for who I was with them in the beginning.”
I’m quiet. I’m quiet too long, and he shifts on the seat.
“Learning who I’ve been…”
“No.” I tip my head up. “No, Jer. I see you. I see who you are now. I’ve lived with you for months now. I’ve hung out with you and your kids. I’ve spent how many nights with you on this couch, watching TV or talking? You’re still you.
“You made mistakes. You were hurt and you hurt someone. That doesn’t make you the monster you think it does. It makes you human.”
He settles back a little, but I know that doubt lingers. My heart wants nothing more than to spend all my time making that doubt disappear. Showing Jeremy the strength and honour in who I see when I look at him.
“I’m not who I was, Pixie, but I’m always gonna be a little fucked up. I’ve seen a therapist for a long time. I still go to AA once and a while, if it’s been a bad week. And while it was my knees that got me thrown out of the Army, my head would have had them show me the door eventually anyways. Hell, the last while with Deb, I couldn’t even… you know, get it up.” He laughs with no humour; his cheeks even pink a little.
“Is that still…?” I try to ask without judgement because damn, I’m sure I want him, and I know I’ve seen evidence he wants me too, but I won’t have him feel bad for something he can’t control.
“I’ve been with women since then. Not a ton, but enough to know it usually goes how it’s supposed to most of the time, likely because I’m not drinking anymore and have a better handle on the shit in my head. I’m not always sure, though… fuck, Pixie, this isn’t normal, or even close to a sexy conversation.” He shakes his head, but I just give him the best smile I can manage.
“The day after I met you, I admitted how my virginity was taken from me. I don’t think normal is something we’re going to have.”
Jeremy’s face whitens.
“Did you say your virginity?” he almost whispers, and I realize that part of the conversation had never come out with him. . Suddenly, I’m the one who’s shy, and I stare at my hands in my lap like they might show me how to take my words back.
“It’s not a big deal, Jer.”
“It IS though, Pixie.” I decide that if we’re going to do this, if I’m going to do this, now is the time for honesty. Either he wants me, or he doesn’t.
“You’re right. It was. It is, in its own way. It's not like I was saving it for something special. I was just an awkward person and hadn't got to it before that. It doesn’t define me. It’s not who I am, it’s something that happened to me. If we’re putting it all out there, though, if you’re trusting me with your truth, then this is mine.” I take a deep breath and look up at his face. The compassion in it almost breaks me, but I keep going.
“At that party, once the drugs kicked in, I lost track of what happened. I do know, though, that there were at least four of them. Maybe five or six. I know that all of them took a turn. I know that… it wasn’t just one kind of sex. They took advantage of… every part of me.” There’s a sharp intake of breath from Jeremy, but he says nothing, so I continue, needing to just get it out before I lose my nerve.
“I know there were more people in the room; they didn’t take me anywhere private. Thankfully, I know now that I didn’t contract anything, which is a miracle.”
Jeremy is physically shaking next to me, his hands in fists on his thighs.
“They’re still out there?” I nod.
“When I went back to school, and a week later, I finally did. Otherwise, I would have defaulted my classes. By then, I was already on my own, and it was like my whole life had been pulled out from under me in one night. I saw them. It was inevitable. They weren’t in my classes, but a couple of them, the ones I had gone to the party with, they were on one of the teams I was doing my practicum with. One guy, he cornered me, I panicked. I said I went to the hospital, that I could press charges. He laughed, and then…”
This is the part I’ve never admitted to anyone, and my voice shakes with the fear of what Jeremy will think.
“He showed me the pictures on his phone.”
“Oh fuck, Pixie…” Jeremy’s voice is a strangled whisper.
“People in the school had already seen some of them. I knew because of the whispers, the way everyone laughed, and no one in the school would make eye contact. In them, I don’t look drugged, or hurt. I just look like a girl having sex with a bunch of guys in some back-room party after we’ve all had too much to drink.
"He told me I’d keep quiet because the alternative was the world seeing the photos, that he’d post them on the internet. After that, knowing how the nurses had warned me, all the questions I’d be asked about what I wore, what I drank, who I had gone there with… the truth is I’d been kissing one of them before the drugs kicked in. One of my last real memories is thinking maybe… but then it got so fuzzy, and I didn’t get the chance to make a choice at all.”
This time, when I look up at Jeremy, I freeze because his eyes aren’t blazing anger or even soft with compassion.
They’re swimming with tears that are streaking down his face. I don’t resist leaning forward, brushing his cheek and feeling his soft scruff as I cup my hand over his jaw.
“Here’s the truth though, Jer. I’m making a choice now. I want you.” He puts one hand up and holds mine where it is on his face, his thumb brushing mine. Then he uses it to move my hand off, back to the couch, and stands.
“You can’t mean that, Pixie, not after…”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I stand right in front of him, poking his chest and feeling a little like a child when I do it, but fuck him.
“How dare you tell me what I want, or whether I am allowed to want it. I don’t need your permission to start healing, Jeremy, and there’s no right amount of time that I have to wait before I’m allowed to want someone. So, if you’re just using that as an excuse because you don’t want me, because I’m too broken or too used up or to… whatever… then fucking admit it.” I’m yelling at him so loud, I have to catch my breath when I’m done. The sound of it fills the silent room.
The next sound surprises me as a low chuckle comes from Jeremy’s chest.
“We make quite the pair, Pixie.” His arm snakes around my waist, and he tugs gently as he flops back on the couch, pulling me with him. I’m crying now, too, and the exhaustion of the day just presses down on me as soon as my head hits the back of the couch.
“C’mere.” Gently, Jeremy guides me so that I’m lying with my head on his chest, a lot like the way I do when he comes in my room after a nightmare. He uses his foot to scoop my pick fuzzy throw blanket from the other arm of the couch and pull it over us.
His hand covers the top of my head, twisting curls in his fingers, and I feel his breathing eventually slow. He sniffles, the back of his other hand wiping his face before settling around my hips.
“I said you could be everything, but I lied, Pixie.” His breath is warm against my ear. “You already are.”
His breathing evens out, and I find myself slipping to sleep surrounded by him and with more hope than I’ve had in a long time.
12
Jeremy
There are no curtains in the living room of my apartment.
I’ve never been concerned about that until this moment, when the light seems to want to violently force my eyes open far before my warm, comfortable body is willing.
I feel Jordyn stirring, though, and as my brain catches up with my body, I feel the complete lack of circulation in the arm she has pinned under me. The other one is hanging off the couch and when I try to lift it to her head, it feels ten times heavier than it is.
I’m still warm, but maybe not as comfortable as I originally thought.
“Why is it so bright?” Jordyn speaks into my chest, feeling wet, probably from the bit of drool she left there overnight. I attempt to shift, and my entire body protests.
“I think I’m too old for sleeping on the couch,” I groan, and she swats me without even opening her eyes.
“Gimme a minute, old man. My eyes aren’t awake yet.” I brush a few pink curls from where my shirt has left creases on her skin.
“If I don’t move soon, I’m worried I won’t be able to move at all.” She groans and rolls slowly, maneuvering her tiny body so that she’s sitting with her back against the opposite arm of the couch. The tank top and fluffy pink skirt she was wearing last night looks twisted and uncomfortable from a night squished next to me on half a couch. Her hair is a wild mess, half-flattened against her creased face, half-sticking up in all directions. She slowly blinks open eyes that are black rimmed underneath.
God she’s gorgeous.
“Good morning, beautiful.” She lets out a sound that can only be described as a snort, and then covers her face and laughs. I love the sound.
“I have to pee.” Jumping to the floor, she scurries down her hallway, and I slowly make my way to my own ensuite for a quick bathroom break and teeth brush. I pull off my jeans and Henley that are wrinkled from sleep and toss on a pair of grey sweatpants. Venturing back to the kitchen, she’s changed too, into a pair of shorts and t-shirt, and she already has the coffee on.
“We have the lunch/dinner at Erika’s today,” she says to the machine more than to me. We had all agreed to meet there around noon, so we could stuff ourselves all day.
It’s only just after nine, so we have enough time to head to get groceries and then back, and I say as much before I lean over her from behind, grabbing two mugs from where they hang underneath the cupboard. Her body tenses a moment from the feeling of mine behind her and for a second, I worry again that it’s too much, but she quickly relaxes into me, leaning back just a second against my chest.
When I step back, she turns with the coffee pot and fills our mugs, staring down intently like they might speak to her.
“Just so you know, I kissed you already.”
“I know, Pixie, I was there. It’s not something I can forget.”
“I’m just saying, I already kissed you, and you rejected me.” I open my mouth to explain, but she holds up her hand.
“So, if you want there to be another kiss, or anything more than a kiss… you have to do it. I already used up my first kiss attempt. The next one is on you.”
I grin at her logic, but finish doctoring my coffee before I put the cup down and walk over to her slowly. Her gaze drifts from the floor and up my frame, slowly, making me stand a little taller. I know I don’t look like the boys at the bar. I’m older, softer than Twiz, Tavish, Matt, and Jason, and likely most of the kids she would have wanted in school. I try to stay in shape, as much as my knee and my time allows, and it feels good to see her eyes linger as they trace from the elastic of my sweats and up my stomach and chest until she finally looks me in the eyes right before I tip her chin and press my mouth to hers.
She tastes like mint and coffee and when she lets out the tiniest whimper, I use the opportunity to explore her mouth, cupping her face with my hands mostly to keep them off the rest of her.
We still need to leave the house today and the first time I touch her won’t be a rushed moment on the kitchen counter.
However, now that my brain has gone there, it’s something it wants to revisit.
I end the kiss with a groan, reluctantly separating my lips from hers while letting her see me make a futile attempt to adjust myself in these unforgivingly soft pants. Her eyes widen just a moment before she looks back up at me and grins.
I take my cup back in my hand without moving out of her space, swigging the rest and putting it back on the counter, then pinch her chin between my thumb and finger and giving her one last chaste kiss, then heading towards my room.
“I’m going to shower and then we can head out to get groceries before we go to Erika’s.”
“Okay.” Her response is breathy and gives me the confidence boost I need for a shit-eating grin the entire time I’m in the shower.
When I head back out, Jordyn is still in her room, so I wash our mugs and put the couch cushions back right, marvelling as I fold a fluffy pink blanket how I ended up with something like this in my space. It feels like Jordyn has always been here, putting her own touches on everything. The Ben and Jerry’s pint on the coffee table catches my eye, and I grab it, tossing the spoon in the dishwasher before turning to its owner as she makes her way from the hall.
“So… where’d ya get the ice cream, Pixie?” She gives me a conspiratorial grin.
“Not telling. It was a temporary lapse. You’re not using it as an excuse to buy more junk food!”
“Damn rights I am! This whole time I’ve been going without chips and Oreos, and you’ve been holding out on me with the fancy ice cream?”
“It was for emergency use only!” She snatches the keys to my truck from the counter and heads to the door.
“No time to talk about this, we have to get to the store and back before dinner!” Shaking my head, I follow behind her, twisting the lock on the door and snatching my keys from her hand that she holds behind her.
“When are we going to teach you to drive?” I ask as I jog next to her.
“When you don’t drive a giant penis-compensation.” She laughs as I sputter, opening her door and helping her up into the passenger seat.
“You think so, eh?”
“Well, you can always prove me wrong later,” she answers shyly and fuck, it’s going to be a long day.
We race through groceries. I throw a replacement pint of ice cream in the cart in exchange for being allowed some Oreos, but she still won’t let me put chips in. We barely have time to get it all put away in the kitchen before we have to run out the door to Erika’s.
Tavish and Juliette are just reaching the elevator when we walk into the lobby, a case of Keith’s in Tavish’s arms.
“You know, kid, the classy thing here would be to bring wine.”
“I don’t fucking like wine, Jer,” he says through gritted teeth as his wife swats him.
“I told you, Tavish! We are so unclassy… Non-classy? Without class. There. That’s what we are. Ugh.” He leans down and kisses the top of her head.
“You’re the most beautiful classless women I’ve ever seen.”
“Classless! That’s the word I was looking for! I swear I’m normally much smarter than this…”
“Erika isn’t going to care that I’m bringing beer and not wine.”
“I care,” the little spitfire grumbles, but there’s no real malice in her tone.
“Any chance you guys convinced Twiz to come?” she asks hopefully instead. Tavish just shakes his head, and her shoulders droop.
“According to Matt, he left last night for Saskatchewan. Some kind of family emergency.”
“Oh, poor Twiz. That’s the last thing he needs…”
“He’ll be okay, Jules. Don’t worry.”
The door opens, and we head in, where Erika is basting a turkey that smells amazing. An older man who I’m assuming is her father is popping the cork on a bottle of wine, and Jason is propped against the counter, already helping himself to something out of a casserole dish.
“Hey guys!” Erika turns from the oven, her normally perfectly styled red hair a messy small bun on the top of her head, a giant sweater hanging off one freckled shoulder. “You’re here!” I put our bottle of wine next to several others on the table, and Tavish clunks the beer next to it.
“Fuck yes, that’s what I’m talking about!” Jason moves from his spot, taking one last piece of bacon out of a casserole while Erika smacks him, and he grabs a bottle of beer.
“I thought I was going to have to drink wine!” Tavish gives him a high five and a smug look at his wife, who only rolls her eyes. I walk over to the only person I don’t know in the room just as Matt lets himself in.
