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JIMMY

For at least the tenth time today, I pulled out my phone and looked at the messages TJ had sent earlier.

TJ

Hey sunshine. It was good to see you Saturday

Hopefully this is still your number. lol. As you can see, mine hasn’t changed

Feel free to use it :-)

I brushed my thumb over the words as if they’d somehow connect me to him. I’d debated responding, but I didn’t know what to say. And besides, I was already in the middle of a relationship crisis with Steven. It wasn’t exactly the best time to reconnect with an old flame, no matter how innocent the intention.

It was Wednesday, and Steven still hadn’t come home. I tried texting him but hadn’t gotten a response. He’d left in a huff Saturday night without packing anything. And for a man who had a thirty-minute beauty regimen—day and night—and spent as much as an hour just deciding what he was going to wear, I wasn’t sure how he was managing.

I shouldn’t have found any of that amusing. I should have been worried he’d been abducted or was in a hospital somewhere, and maybe there was a part of me that was worried, at least a little bit, but I also knew him. Steven loved nothing more than turning a small thing into a really big thing. He loved being the center of attention. And he loved playing the victim.

So when he walked into the apartment around five-thirty that evening, wearing a brand-new outfit and an attitude, I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t amused anymore either. I was pissed.

And I was done.

“Oh good. You’re home.” I clicked the TV off and turned to face him. “Now you can pack your things and get out.”

“What!” he screeched. “What the fuck are you talking about? I live here.”

“You haven’t been home since Saturday night. No calls. No texts.”

He crossed his arms in front of him, taking a defensive stance. “I stayed with Chance and Justin.”

“Good. Then you can stay with them a little longer while you find another place to live.”

“What the fuck has gotten into you? This isn’t like you.”

“Maybe not. But maybe it should be.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m done being a doormat. I’m done letting you make all the decisions in our relationship. I’m done with your passive-aggressive insults and your constant need to be the center of attention. And I’m really, really done sitting by while you fuck your way through half the male population of Omaha without even bothering to call and let me know where you are.”

“I told you?—”

“Yes, I know what you told me. But you lied. And you weren’t even smart about it. Jesus .” I raked my hand through my hair. I missed my curls. “When you didn’t come home Monday, I texted Justin, who hadn’t seen you since trivia night. You know, the night you didn’t stay with them after you all left the bar?”

“He’s lying.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so. See, I texted Chance next, and you really should have made sure the two of them had their stories straight. Chance was happy to cover for you. Said you’d stayed on their couch for the last two weekends.”

“Okay, well like I said, Justin is obviously lying. I don’t know what’s going on with those two, but Justin’s always been jealous because Chance and I had a thing a while back.”

“A while back? You mean last January? And again in June. Oh, and then there was August when the three of you hooked up for a cozy little threesome while I was at orientation for incoming teachers in Astaire. It was the middle of the fucking day, asshole.”

The blood drained from his face, then flooded back just as fast, his cheeks flaming red. And then he went on the offensive, rushing into my space, poking me in the chest. “I don’t know what you think you know, but honestly, if you weren’t such a dud in bed?—”

“Fuck you. You are responsible for your choices, not me.”

“I have needs , Jimmy. You never want to fuck. And when I finally talk you into it, you barely participate.” His mouth twisted in a sneer. “Last time, you couldn’t even get it up.”

It was true, and I’d been so ashamed, wondering what was wrong with me that I couldn’t perform. I’d felt bad, so I’d blown him instead, and he’d gotten off even though I hadn’t. And then he’d made me feel like shit for days, making snarky little comments.

But now, I realized it had nothing to do with my ability to perform and everything to do with the way I felt about him. And if there was anything to be ashamed of, it was the fact that I’d let him put his dick in my mouth when my body had been clearly telling me what I hadn’t been able to admit to myself. I didn’t want him. It was just another thing I’d allowed, another way he’d mistreated me, and I hadn’t done anything to stop it.

Steven saw my hesitation, his eyes gleaming in satisfaction that he’d hit a sore spot. It just wasn’t sore for the reasons he thought. In that moment, I loathed him, but not more than I loathed myself for allowing it to get this far.

Steven pressed his body into me, walking me backward until my back came in contact with the kitchen island, the edge of the countertop digging into the small of my back. He shoved his thigh into my crotch while simultaneously grabbing my ass, applying enough pressure in both places to have my breath coming up short. I’d been flying on adrenaline and anger, and now that was giving way to the first signs of an imminent panic attack.

He shoved his face into mine, spitting on me as he said, “You think you’re so smart, huh? Always got your nose in a book, filling up that big brain of yours. Want to know the truth?”

“P-please let go of me,” I stammered, but he just gripped me harder. He wasn’t very big, a twink in every sense of the stereotype, but he was strong, spending an hour a day at the gym to ensure his body was in perfect shape. I was going to have bruises.

“The truth is you aren’t shit. Barely even a decent fuck. I’ll admit I was drawn to your pretty face when we first met. Remember how you used to blush so adorably?” His mouth was close to mine now and he’d brought one hand up to grip my chin, forcing me to look at him. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t catch my breath. “But that innocent little act got old real fast. Always so sad and pitiful. Always having a panic attack .” He’d said “ panic attack ” with a sneer, his voice mocking.

“ Please ,” I begged through gritted teeth. Steven released me suddenly, shoving me backward as he stepped away from me, shaking his head in disgust. I brought my hands up, hugging myself protectively as I continued to struggle to find air.

“You want to kick me out? Fine. You can live your sad little existence without me. I only stayed around this long for the free rent.”

And then, as if he hadn’t just had me shoved against a counter hard enough to leave bruises, he turned and stormed out.

I slid to the floor, doing my best to run through my breathing exercises until my vision cleared enough that I could pull my phone out. With shaking fingers, I sent a text.

I need you