Page 21 of Foxed Up

"I can't believe you would do that," said Jon very quietly. "I just can't believe you. One mistake — even a bad one — shouldn't be enough for you to walk away, if this relationship was serious to you." He drew in a pained breath. "So are you punishing me? Is that it? Or have you really cut ties over one stupid thing I said?"

"I needed some time. I still need some time. I — I don't want to talk to you right now."

"Well, you called. You're on the phone. You're talking. You sure as hell don't call when you don't want to."

"That's...to get you to stop calling me," I said, sounding uncertain, close to tears.

"Not a problem," said Jon, biting off the words. "Believe me. I won't bother your phone again."

I closed my eyes and blew out a breath, rubbing my forehead. It was starting to ache. My eyes felt hot and prickly. This was sohard.

"I didn't...want to break up with you. But I don't trust you right now. I can't force that. I told your son. I can't force myself to trust someone. You—" I swallowed. No more time for recriminations. He knew what he'd done. He either cared or he didn't; I couldn't force him to. "I just don't know if any of it was true, now. I liked you so much, Jon. So much."

"Liked." His voice was flat. "So this is the end, then."

"No. I — I don't know. Maybe." Probably.

He was silent. I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. "I changed my life for you, Avery. I wanted you to live with me. You met my son, my mother...I'm out at work because of you."

I gave a snort.

"Maybe I'm not very good at it yet, but I'm doing it," he said sharply. "It's out there. I'm doing my best. I'm gonna fuck up sometimes. If you can't handle that, maybe it's best you walk away. But I never thought you were such a quitter. Such a wimp about relationships."

Was it still a relationship if you told people it was just sex? It had started as just sex, hadn't it? Maybe that's all I should ever have expected so I wouldn't be hurt when that was all it was. But… My thoughts twisted over and around themselves like writhing snakes.

He hadn't hung up. He wanted to hear my rebuttal. I didn't have one.

My eyes were filling with tears despite everything. This hurt too much. I wanted to be a fox again. A fox didn't have to think about phone calls, breakups, shitty boyfriends.

I took a turn around the kitchen, still holding the phone, trying to choke down my tears so I could speak.

"Avery?" he said at last, breaking the long silence. "You still there?"

"If I knew you loved me," I choked out. "But I don't. I can't be your fuck toy. It hurts too much. I care too much. I have to walk away because I can't live that way. It matters too much for me to die by a million paper cuts." I took a deep, jagged breath. "And that's what it is, if I care and you don't. I have to make myself not care anymore. I just...can't."

"Wallace." His voice had gotten both softer and huskier. "You know I love you. How can you doubt that? I've said it, haven't I? I've tried to live it. I've tried to show you."

I bit my lip so I wouldn't start sobbing into the phone. I shook my head.

"You want me to come over?" he asked quietly. "Maybe talk in person?"

"No," I said quietly. "I really don't want to talk anymore. That doesn't fix it. But I — I would like you to put your arms around me and not say anything. And don't call me a wimp if I cry on you."

"I think I can handle that. I'll be right over. Avery…"

"Yes?" I tried not to sound tearful.

"You could've let me know you were alive a little sooner, you know."

I almost snorted. Of course I was alive. Did he really think I'd kill myself?

#

I had time to dry my eyes, shower again, change into something more presentable, and eat some toast and coffee before he arrived. Coffee was one thing I did miss as a fox. I quite like coffee.

I'd finished it, washed out the mug, and started a load of laundry, all by the time he arrived. He usually drove more quickly. Perhaps he'd almost changed his mind, or had something to do first.

He knocked at the door, and I went to open it. I wore loose jeans and a ragged old t-shirt, and my hair had nearly air-dried itself. I deliberately didn't dress up for him. I needed something comfortable against my skin so I could get used to wearing human clothes again. And I didn't want him thinking I'd dressed nicely to seduce him or tease him, either.