Was that what JC had become for me? Merely a habit?
I didn’t want to think that was all he was. But if he’d taught me anything, it was that living in the past was not living at all.
I’d never struggled with addiction, yet now I felt like I had a smidgeon of an idea of what it must have been like for Alayna when she’d had to face her obsessive tendencies over men. How hard it must have been to finally try to “quit.” It was why my father had never been able to put down the bottle and why he’d turned to heroin—because it was that hard to give up the thing that you lived for.
In the same way, it was nearly impossible for me to think about giving up JC, even when he’d only become a memory.
And with that clarity, I realized that was exactly what I had to do—give him up. Because I didn’t want to be anything like my father.
Laynie was right. I had to check in to JC Anonymous. I had to quit. Tentatively I asked, “What would this Dr. Lauren of yours say is the way to stop?”
“Well.” She was just as tentative in her answer, all too aware of the difficulty it took for me to even think about “quitting.” “She’d suggest setting a date. A date that you plan to quit waiting, or, in my case, obsessing, and then on that date, you stop. Like a job. Hand in your notice today and know that this is all the time you have left before you move on.”
“So I should pick a date to be over JC? That sounds a little simplistic, doesn’t it?”
“It does. But it works.” She thought for a second then corrected herself. “Or it helps anyway. Nothing really works except not giving up.”
I twisted my lips, considering what she’d said. It would be easy to apply her words to reasons to not quit JC. If I truly believed we could be together then I shouldn’t give up.
But it had been almost a year since he’d left me. Almost twelve months since he’d told me that he was the key witness in a murder. That he had to go into protection until the trial. I had no way of knowing when the trial would end, and when it did, he was the one who had to find me. Which could prove difficult since I’d left every part of my old life in my own need for protection. In my case, protection from my father.
I had faith that he could find me. But would he look? Because, yes, I still had feelings for him, but really, when I thought about it logically, it was ridiculous that I did. Because in the seven months I’d known him before he left, our relationship really only added up to a total of two weeks time together. Ninety-five percent of that had been just sex. So what was it I was actually waiting around for? A man who had openly loved me for the space of…what? A day and a half? That and good sex. Amazingly good sex.
It wasn’t enough to justify being stuck for so long.
And if he actually did love me like he’d said he did, I had a feeling he’d say the same thing.
There was only one smart thing to do.
I looked down at the keyboard where my fingers were absentmindedly tapping over and over on the same two letters—J and C.
No. I couldn’t live like this forever.
I pulled my hands into my lap and sat back in my chair. “The Fourth.”
I’d been silent long enough that Laynie took a moment to register my meaning. “Of July?”
I swallowed. “Yeah. Independence Day. Sounds like a good day to let someone go.”
She nodded, her expression somber, her eyes both compassionate and hopeful. “It sounds perfect,” she said. “A total celebration. We’re all going to be on Hudson’s boat for the night. We’ll watch the fireworks and everyone will think they’re going off for this big patriotic holiday thing, and only we will know they’re really just for you.”
The year before, I’d spent the holiday watching the fireworks alone, missing JC with every fiber of my being. Yet somehow this year’s celebration sounded even lonelier.
“Perfect,” I said. I’d expected to feel a weight lifted from me, but instead, it felt almost suffocating to commit to this new plan. Felt like something inside of me was tightening and constricting, making it hard to breathe. Like my lungs were full of sand and my heart that had once been open was starting to close.
Chapter Two
The first slam is hard, fast. From behind.
I let out a guttural breathy sound that’s half grunt, half sigh. This, I think. How long have I waited for this? It’s so much more amazing than I remember.
We’re still fully clothed. We were too desperate for each other. Too eager. I managed to get my pants and underwear down to my thighs before he flipped me around and bent me over the kitchen table. I didn’t even see him take his cock out, but I felt his erection at the center of me. Felt his head at my hole.