Garrett looked TJ in the eye, gave him fair warning. “I’m still angry.”
TJ nodded once. “Anger is a funny, vile thing, son. It dissipates. It lessens over time, eventually leaving you all together. Question is, what will it leave you with? A forgiving heart? Or a hole in your gut so vast, you’ll never feel complete again?” His hand circled Garrett’s shoulder and squeezed, sadness brimming in his gaze. “I’m truly sorry, Garrett. Don’t let my mistakes dictate your future. For your own sake, and for Jessa’s, don’t let anger rob you of the chance for something beautiful.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jessa stared at the treadmill.
She knew how this was going to go. Same as every other day for the last four weeks. It didn’t matter how far she ran — or for how long — the outcome was always the same.
Mile one. She’d set her stride, working toward a pace she could keep for a while. The rhythmic thud of her shoes against the tread, the low hum of the machine. Nothing could stop her memories of being with Garrett. She’d up the volume on her iPod.
Mile two. Garrett’s smile — the one he reserved just for her. The way his tongue eased over his bottom lip, milliseconds before the corner of his mouth curled up. His eyes would darken, his lids would grow heavy with a gaze that said he knew exactly what to do to make her scream. And, sweet mercy, how he’d made her scream.
By mile three, Garrett’s hands were on her skin, his mouth licking, biting, tasting every inch of her until mile four, he’d take her. He’d slide his hands over her ass, bend her over that couch again and … mile five she’d give up, frustrated and angry with herself for being such a complete idiot.
So, she stared at the treadmill.
She couldn’t outrun her memories any more than she could outrun the pain in her chest. She was in love with Garrett Donovan, and she’d messed it up. The first man who had cared about her. Not her name, not her money or who her father was. Her. The first man she’d trusted, and she’d treated him as if he’d meant nothing to her. Allowed petty insecurities to get in the way of what they could’ve had together.
Jessa had spent the last month in a hell of her own creation. And it was one she was done living in. She wasn’t sure about the old adage that time healed all wounds, but it did give a girl perspective.
She’d blamed and cursed her dad for something she should’ve been grateful for. His reasons for sending her to Tampa were irrelevant. Once she’d gotten home and the tears had stopped, she’d remembered her dad would never do anything to hurt her. Not intentionally. It seemed Jessa had inherited the overreact gene, along with the gene that included popping off at the mouth before thinking things through. Something she’d done a lot with Garrett, she’d realized.
Perspective.
She’d gone to Tampa to meet Garrett, but what she’d really found was herself. In those two short weeks, Jessa had felt alive, connected, a part of something bigger than the life she’d been living.
Garrett hadn’t only been her lover. He’d been her friend. They’d talked, and not just about baseball, although his respect for her opinion about the game made her heart melt a little. They’d talked about family and farming, where the best places were to eat in New York and which were her favorite museums.
They’d argued over who was better at Guitar Hero.
It hadn’t mattered that she’d never played before. All that mattered was the mischievous gleam in Garrett’s eyes before he’d thrown her over his shoulder — threatening to spank her for arguing with the self-proclaimed Guitar Hero master — and carried her to the bedroom where he’d promised to teach her how to play.
She didn’t just want more. She wanted it all. Jessa wanted everything Garrett was, and the person she was when she was with him. He’d shown her the woman she could be. Daring, sexual, loving.