Page 18 of Foxed Up

Love is a bitch.It doesn't hurt so much to not have someone, as it does to have them and lose them. Especially if it's mostly your own fault.

Wallace Avery

I didn't sleep well that night.

Every time I started to drop off, my stupid nagging brain brought me back out of it with a jerk, and an awful sinking, plunging feeling of how I'd felt when Jon said that.

It shouldn't be hitting me so hard, should it? I'd almost resigned myself to it, right after hearing it, but I'd also walked around in a daze. Now I couldn't stop going over and over that moment. Meeting his son had gone so well. It was almost a shame, since I was seriously considering breaking up with Jon.

Was that wise, though? I was damned sure it would hurt me more than it would hurt him. I didn't think I'd ever really get over him, because I'd let myself care too much. My heart was in it. That's why this hurt so much. But breaking up with him would be jumping the gun, objectively speaking. I might hurt less in the morning, or next week, or next month. A breakup was permanent.

Even if the relationship couldn't be the same anymore — the intimacy, the trust — I worked with the man. I'd have to see him every day. And I'd still want to have sex with him. For me, he was addictive. I didn't think anything was going to change that, even this raw spot inside my heart. Things might change, but I wasn't going to stop wanting him.

I wasn't going to stop loving him.

Perhaps taking a break for a little while will help. Perhaps we can sort things out. Perhaps he'd really meant his apology, and wouldn't do it again. It was going to take time to know.

My heart sank at the thought of working with him every day, if we weren't together romantically. Taking a break, or otherwise… It was hard to think of losing him forever. And I did know the man sometimes spoke brashly to cover up what he felt inside.

It still hurt. It was still going to take some hard work and probably some time to get over. But if we both put in the work...if we really made an effort…

The thing was, I didn't know if I was really worth it to him. I could break my neck bending over backwards for him, break my heart on his stony one, and I wasn't sure whether he'd really give a shit or not. Once, I'd thought he did. Now I was questioning everything.

He said he loved me. We definitely had chemistry. But he had been pretty convincing while assuring a stranger it was all about sex, too. What if that had been the truth, and the things he told me were lies? Maybe he'd been more of a player than I knew.

It had definitely started out as just sex. Had he decided the best way to keep things good between us was to tell me what he thought I wanted to hear? It wasn't like I was hard to read. He knew what I wanted: a boyfriend, love, all of it. Had he just told me he wanted the same things to make it easier to keep what we were both enjoying?

Perhaps I should have tried to let it be just that, to not get myself so attached. I knew that I was vulnerable to forming romantic attachments and taking them very seriously. Even though many foxes didn't do the whole "mates and forever" thing, plenty of them did, after all. My parents certainly had. It was shitty of him to take advantage of that, if he had. But then again, he'd wanted me to meet his family, and sometimes, he really seemed so close and vulnerable to me...he seemed to care so deeply. I'd been pretty sure he wasn't that good of an actor, or that shitty of a person, that he'd be able to fake all of that, and want to.

Now I was questioning everything.

I couldn't break up with him over a temporary disappointment, and I really didn't want to break up with him at all. But I couldn't feel the same somehow, either. I liked his mother, I liked his son, and I loved being with him — more than I should — but I didn't quite trust him anymore. What I'd told his son about trust and feeling safe...a lot of that applied to my human life, not just my fox life.

Eventually I dropped off to sleep, but it took quite some time, and I hadn't really resolved any of it to my satisfaction.

In the morning, I was dismayed to see myself in the mirror. My face looked gaunt, pale, and with dark marks under my eyes. I looked haunted, and my eyes held pain.

It wasn't going to be very pleasant at work, when I so obviously wasn't myself. I didn't want to face comments, or have to interact with people, or do anything except hide among the stacks and deal with paperwork. That, I would feel safe doing. I thought I would have some space, if I could just do that. But there were no guarantees, either.

I debated using up a vacation day, or even calling in sick. It would be cowardly, and I did not like to consider myself so weak. Yes, I was having relationship issues with Jon. Yes, I might feel like my heart was sort of broken and my trust in him fading...but I still had a job to do, and I mustn't mope about and avoid it.

In the end, I ate a light breakfast and drove in. I did my best to put a cheerful expression on my face, to look like my normal self, but something was definitely off. Several people glanced at me, then looked away. I must be giving off rather odd vibes, or I just looked as exhausted and sad as I felt.

What else did he say about me behind my back? He'd have denied it if I hadn't heard it myself. He'd have been fine with never admitting it, if I hadn't caught him. Did he always talk about me like that? Was it that, when he was with me, it was all love and warmth, but around others it was bragging about sex, or perhaps even denying he knew me? Of course he'd improved a lot since we first started having sex. Back then we did it without giving thought to consequences or telling anyone at all. But somehow I thought we'd moved past all of that, into a relationship.

I wanted that. I'd been happy on my own once, but now, the way I felt about him, I wanted more.

Should I walk away before it hurt even more? Was he just stringing me along and I meant nothing to him? But he wouldn't have had me meet his son if he didn't care at least somewhat. It wasn't as though I'd have actually insisted, even though I did clearly want to have a bigger part in his life.

So I knew he hadn't done it just to keep me in his life. He'd done it because he wanted to. And I knew he had a bad habit of saying rude things he shouldn't say, even when he knew better, and shooting his mouth off and acting tough. So just because he'd said what he'd said didn't mean he was lying when he'd said he regretted it, would take it back if he could, and was sorry. Perhaps he'd meant that most of all, and we could stay together. Perhaps I could eventually move in with him, and we'd be happy together, and…

I turned away from the thought, with the sudden feeling I was going to cry. It hurt to think about that — the whole package, the happily ever after — when I still felt like gum on the sidewalk.

Sex with a fox. Who was going to say no to that, right? Nudge nudge, wink wink, brag about sexual prowess and gettin' some.

It made me feel sick to my stomach, like getting punched there. I obviously hadn't yet gotten a handle on the feeling of betrayal. Perhaps I was overreacting and those feelings would ease soon, especially if he gave me no further cause to distrust him. He'd actually done quite a bit to make this relationship real, up until now. He'd worked nearly as hard as I had to find ways to see me, and he'd obviously worked hard to get his kid ready to meet me. He'd even outed himself to the captain. It had been a big deal to him; it had. I hadn't imagined any of that.

So why did I still feel sick whenever I thought about what he'd said? Why couldn't I forget it? It was onlywords.