He’s already there when I get home, and I didn’t even text him. He opens my car door for me and offers me his hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say as he closes my door. I press the button to lock the car, then walk to my front door. “I just spent the night with Elizabeth and heard her talk about you. I don’t think I can do this anymore, Ranger. I feel like the shittiest person, even though I didn’t really do anything wrong. I think the worst part is the lying. I should have just told her right away.”
But she’d just been rescued. How was I meant to tell her I’d slept with the guy she thinks is the one for her? There’s no way I could have, but the longer this goes on the more she thinks she has a chance with Ranger. Isn’t it worse to let her think that?
Ranger says nothing about my rant; instead, he takes my keys from me and opens the front door. I walk inside and turn on the light, flopping onto the couch and staring at the blank TV. He sits down next to me, and takes my hand into his. “What do you want me to do? I’m glad you’re telling me how you’re feeling, Jo, but don’t ever say that you can’t do this anymore.”
I lick my dry lips and turn to look at him. “I don’t know what we should do, but not doing anything is only going to make this worse, Ranger. I feel so fake, sitting there with her while she talks about you like you’re hers. She’s my cousin. And she’s been through hell. How can I add to her pain? I’ve been so selfish, and I just don’t see a way out of this. Why don’t we just cool things for a little until we can sort it out? Maybe she’ll meet someone and forget about you. . . . I don’t know. . . .”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Cool things? What the fuck does that mean exactly?”
I look down at our hands and say, “I don’t know, Ranger. I just don’t know anymore.”
“We’re supposed to be in this together. When shit gets hard, we’re meant to band together and handle it. Not run. You really don’t get it, do you, Jo?”
He stands and leaves.
And I’m left feeling like shit.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ranger
I PICK up my glass of whiskey and swirl the amber liquid around before taking a sip.
“Long day?” Shayla asks, sitting down next to me.
“Something like that,” I say, ignoring as my phone vibrates with Elizabeth’s calls. It’s not her I want to call me right now, but I know that Jo won’t. She’s upset, and I get it, I do, but we’re in this together no matter what. She can’t run every time something upsets her, unless it’s into my arms. I want her, she wants me, why does it have to be more difficult than that?
“Want to talk about it?” she asks, watching me as I pour more whiskey.
“Not really,” I say, turning to her. “Do you think that if a relationship is too hard, it isn’t meant to be?”
She thinks it over, before shaking her head. “No. I think that sometimes you need to fight for what you want, to make your own fate. It just depends on how badly you want it. Sometimes what you want isn’t what you need, or what’s best for you. It all depends on the situation, Ranger.”
“I want her badly,” I say, looking into my glass like it has the answers to all of my problems. “And I know I can make her so happy, you know? It’s not a selfish want. I could make her the happiest woman in the world.”
“But she doesn’t want that?” Shayla asks.
“I don’t know. Shayla, is it always like this?” I mutter under my breath, the alcohol doing its job, my mind going hazy. “Maybe I don’t deserve someone like her.”
Shayla slams her hand down on the table. “Bullshit, Ranger. You’re a catch. You’re good-looking, educated, badass, and you’re funny. I’ll give you a moment to feel sorry for yourself, since you just had a fight and you’re upset, but that’s all I’ll allow.”
I reach over and tug a lock of her silky dark hair. “Did you just tell me off?”
“Yes.”
“She’s so fuckin’ beautiful, Shayla. Perfect. She’s mine, and that’s it,” I say, trying to explain my connection to Jo and failing miserably.
“There are plenty of beautiful women out there,” she says in a soft voice.
“None like her though.”
And that’s the truth. I made it sound like her beauty is her main appeal, but that’s not it. It’s just one of the things that makes me want to be around her for the rest of my life. Vinnie walks into the room with Jordan propped on his arm, his eyes going straight to Shayla. “You ready to go, Shay?”
She doesn’t take her eyes off me. “Yeah. Unless you want me to hang out for a bit, Ranger?”
“I’m good,” I say, leaning over and kissing her cheek. “Go and get that beautiful girl to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, standing up.
Vinnie nods as I say good-bye. Left alone once more, I replay the last bit of the conversation with Jo in my head.
I want you more than anything, but not like this.
Does she think that I want it to be a secret? I want to scream out to the whole world that she’s mine, but I thought we’re handling the situation as delicately as we can, trying to do our best so Elizabeth doesn’t get pushed over the edge. It’s not that I think I’m such a catch that she will lose her mind over me, but she will see it as a betrayal, even though Jo isn’t like that. Jo never betrayed Elizabeth, and we can’t help how we feel about each other. We didn’t choose it: it just happened. Jo doesn’t want her cousin to hate her, but I’m sure Elizabeth will get over it. She will find someone else, move on, and realize that I’m not what she wants, but until she does have that realization, she might give Jo a bit of shit and make her look like a villain to her entire family.
Jo doesn’t deserve to have to put up with any of that. I’d carry all the guilt, the entire burden if I could, but I can’t. Fuck it, I need to talk to Elizabeth. If I’m being honest, there’s a reason I’ve been avoiding it. I don’t think I can avoid that reason anymore, because losing Jo isn’t an option.
? ? ?
I don’t know how it happens, but I end up at Toxic with Talon. He had to run in to deal with an issue between two of the bouncers, and drunk me asked him if I could tag along.
“We were supposed to run in and out, not sit here,” Talon says, but then lifts his hand up to order some drinks from a passing waitress. “Two whiskeys and Coke, please,” he says, then turns to me. “Not that you need any more alcohol.”