She Will Be Mine (New Horizon Book 2)

Chapter 26: The Conversation

J: I did not at all expect to see you tonight, here of all places, but I’m so glad I did.

J: And thank you so, so much, for what you did for Finn. I know that was hard for you, and I know you weren’t ready for it, but he needed you.

R: I didn’t expect to see you either, at least not yet, but I did plan to see you eventually. And you’re welcome.

R: I don’t think I would have been able to handle that the last time we saw each other, but I’m also aware that it’s largely on me that he gets like that. It felt like I owed it to him, and to you.

J: Honestly, I was both surprised and impressed. I don’t know what has changed, but something certainly has. In a good way. And you don’t owe me anything.

R: What’s changed is that I’ve been taking care of myself. Of my mental health, I mean.

R: I started therapy after you left. I went for about a year and things were going a lot better, but it was really expensive and I did what I usually do – stopped doing the thing that was good for me and convinced myself that it was for the best.

R: I eventually changed my mind and went back though, and now I’m back on some meds that help a lot.

R: But I do owe you, a lot, starting with an apology. Maybe three. Or ten. It depends how you look at it.

J: Taking care of yourself is all I need from you, Ronnie. I don’t need any of those apologies.

J: I wouldn’t mind seeing you again, though. On purpose this time. How long are you staying?

R: I don’t know. There’s no set time that I plan to leave.

R: Know of any good bookstores around here? For old time’s sake?

J: Old times, lol. It was two years ago. But yeah, I think we can find one if we put our minds to it.

J: I’m just curious, but how long have you been in town?

R: Only since last night, and I’ve just been at Aly’s. We only went out because the twins wanted steak.

J: That makes sense. I wasn’t over there last night, but something was driving Finn crazy the whole day today. I didn’t think it was even possible that it could actually be you.

R: My scent you mean? I thought it was unique to me.

J: It is, but Finn’s been struggling. He hasn’t dealt well with our separation this time, and he gets in his own head about it. In my head.

J: He thinks he smells you whenever anything smells good and feminine, and it happens so often that I’ve learned to ignore it.

J: I should have been suspicious about how strong it was this time, though, so that’s on me.

R: No, it’s on me. I should have given you a heads-up, but instead, I asked Aly and Clarice not to say anything yet because I wanted to go to you in my own time. I realize now that that was selfish of me, as always.

J: It’s not selfish to ask for the things you need, Ronnie. Don’t beat yourself up about it.

J: Can I call you?

R: Yeah.

-

-

Jason

After taking a series of deep breaths, my hands shaking from both excitement and nerves, I finally press the green icon to call Ronnie. It hasn’t been long since I last saw her face and heard her voice, but I’m left craving more. The texting was nice, but I still need more.

I didn’t get enough of her earlier, and besides, it was so tense and awkward running into her unexpectedly like that, and directly after that nightmare of an encounter with Jamie. Now that I’ve had a moment to collect myself, I need to talk to her. Like really talk to her.

When she answers and I can finally hear her voice again, a blissful feeling of calm and relief washes over me. She’s there. She’s really there, and now I can talk to her again. Soon, I might even get to see her.

“Hey,” I answer her back. “I figured since we’re doing things for old time’s sake, we should spend the night on the phone again like we used to.”

She laughs, and hearing it makes me smile so hard there are tears in my eyes again.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” she tells me.

“You took the words right out of my mouth. I was just thinking the same thing.”

She sighs, and I panic about how quickly her mood seemed to shift. She sounds stressed now.

“This is awkward. Why do we do this?” she asks, and I can practically feel her frustration through the line.

It feels like she’s already changed her mind and is about to tell me that she wants to go back to not talking, so I instinctively start to protest, “Ronnie, no. Don’t –”

But to my surprise, she cuts me off.

“That’s not what I mean. I’m glad to talk to you,” she assures me gently, and to my relief, it sounds genuine. “I just mean that we always do this, where we’re all manners and politeness and hold back probably ninety percent of what we’re actually thinking and feeling, and it feels awkward and strained because of it. I can already feel it happening again, but it just makes no sense. If we want things to go differently this time, then don’t we need to be different?”

Whoa. I didn’t expect that, not from her. Holding back and overthinking everything we say to each other is kind of our thing. It used to even be necessary because I don’t think she could have handled more from me then. She needed me to restrain myself and only give her the watered-down version of everything I was thinking and feeling.

It’s exciting and terrifying to hear her saying the opposite now.

“I … I don’t … what are you saying?” I ask like a bumbling i***t. My brain doesn’t seem to be able to handle it.

“I distinctly remember you saying something along the lines of ‘we’re past the stage of holding back’ to me the last time I talked to you, and I’ve thought a lot about that. I’ve talked to my therapists about that. Not just what you meant by it because you were clear about that, but about whether you were right.”

I inhale a sharp breath, remembering back to that last heated, emotional conversation we shared. Me on her porch, her shaking and cowering on the couch watching me through the door. I knew I was pushing it way over the line, but it felt like I had to. I knew I was losing her, and I had to try one last big push to bring her back to me.

“I think you were,” she declares. “I think you identified our major problem right then and there on the phone, but I wasn’t ready to hear it. Not then. But I feel like it’s now or never at this point. So, let’s stop doing that, holding back. Tell me what’s on your mind. What’s really on your mind, everything, big and small.”

“Oh man. That’s a big ask,” I chuckle nervously. “And scary. I’m scared. That’s what’s in my head right this second.”

“Yeah, me too,” she admits. “And I’ve even been practicing. It violates my very nature to actually give voice to what goes on in my head, so it’s something I have to practice. It’s almost like a skill, like basketball, which I’m not very good at either.”

I don’t know if it’s good timing for it, but I can’t help laughing at that. It was cute. I didn’t expect her to be comfortable enough to be cracking jokes already, but that kind of sounded like a joke.

“Well, maybe you can get us started then. Give me a demonstration. What’s on your mind, Ronnie?” I ask because I genuinely want to know, but also because I’d feel more comfortable doing this if I already have some idea where her own head is at.

I’m guessing that’s counterproductive to what she’s asking, but I can’t help it. I’m scared of the power of words, and what effect they might have on her, and I don’t know if I’ll ever fully move past the point of being careful with what I say because I know it could scare her away if I’m not.

The next thing I hear is her exhaling forcefully, preparing herself for whatever she’s about to say.

“I know you said I don’t owe you anything, not even an apology, but I do. I feel that I do, and I can’t just dismiss that and make it go away. So, I’m sorry, Jason, and I’m not content at just leaving it as a blanket apology like that. I need to tell you how sorry I am for how I tend to see things from only my perspective, to think only about my needs, and let you get pushed aside in the process. You have needs too, and you go so far out of the way to try to make me happy, which I’m sure I’ve made seem like an impossible task, and it ends up with you not getting anything you need in the process.”

“I just need you, Ronnie,” I cut in, hoping to put an end to her self-deprecating rant. I can’t bear to listen to whatever else she’s about to say because she has it wrong already. “Making you happy is what I need.”

“How very polite and respectful you are, other than the part where you interrupted me,” she teases sarcastically.

I deserved that. I shouldn’t have cut her off, and I knew it.

“But that’s not the whole story. That’s probably not even one percent of the story,” she challenges me. “Do you even know what you mean when you say that you just need me? Because I don’t. I think it’s a script you’ve rehearsed to make yourself feel better and convince yourself that everything’s fine as long as I’m fine, which in my opinion, only shows that I’m right. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel that way, Jason.”

Speechless, that’s what I am. Damn, Ronnie. She’s coming at me hard, and I don’t know what to do or say about it, especially since I never saw it coming.

“When you close your eyes and picture what it will be like when you finally have me, whatever you mean by that, what does it look like to you?” she probes demandingly. “What does needing me look like, or feel like?”

After a moment or two of my shocked silence, she adds, “I’m basically asking what are your actionable goals in pursuing me? What is it that you really want – the unabridged, no holds barred version?”

Shockingly, I have a sudden urge to hang up and make her stop this interrogation. It’s wildly uncomfortable, and I’m not ready to answer these questions. Do I know the answer? Sure. But I’m terrified what she’ll think of it if I tell her.

And then I’m struck with a moment of sudden clarity. Is this why she pushes me away and will block me in a heartbeat if I push too hard, even though I don’t know where that line is? Wait, is that why she’s doing this?

The hell with that. I’m not falling for it. If she wants to know so badly, then here it goes.

“I want a relationship with you,” I admit shakily. “A real one, where we go out together and touch each other, sharing the time and affection that normal romantic couples do. I want you as my marked mate, and I want to bring you home with me. I built this house with you in mind, Ronnie. There’s not a single place in it that I haven’t pictured you, and I had your interests and needs in mind when I designed it. I built a kitchen with all the modern conveniences that make cooking quicker and easier than ever, and I’ve learned to cook a full menu so that you won’t ever have to cook unless you want to. The master bathroom has a massive soaking tub, complete with heat and jets because I know you love taking relaxing baths before bed. I even made you a reading nook, and that’s where I picture you the most. And if you want the full, unfiltered, uncensored truth, the place I imagine you the second most is my bed, and you don’t always have clothes on.”

I hear her inhale sharply, and then she makes kind of a choking sound. Maybe a laugh, if I’m lucky? But I’m freaking out inside because I know that almost all of what I just said will make her uncomfortable. She wasn’t ready for it, but she forced my hand, and there it went right out my mouth.

“Thank you,” she says finally, which is not the response I expected. It’s not even in the same ballpark, but I’m relieved to hear it.

“It feels so much better to hear you finally tell it to me openly like that,” she says after a pause, and I think it’s relief I hear in her voice too, oddly enough. “Every other time I’ve asked, I’m sure that what you said was true, but it was so veiled. How am I supposed to decide whether I want a future with you when I don’t even know what it is you’re asking from me?”

“The future I’ve dreamed up, it’s not set in stone. It’s not an ultimatum,” I feel the need to explain, hoping that she doesn’t see my confession as a list of demands. “I’ve meant it every time I’ve said that I will settle for as much as you’ll give me, Ronnie.”

“But that’s not what I want. I don’t want you to feel like you’re settling, when there’s so much more you want from life –”

I cringe even as I do it, but I feel the need to cut her off again.

“If you’re about to say I should forget you and go find someone else who can give me all that, then stop. It’s you or no one, which is why I’m willing to compromise. I’d rather –”

“Shut up and listen to me, Jason,” she interrupts me this time. “And yes, I know it’s contradictory to say that to you when I’m trying to have a conversation about your unmet needs, but you won’t even let me get it out.”

“Okay,” I chuckle, both amused and appreciative of this new side of her.

I’ve learned to interrupt her like that because in the past, if I didn’t, she’d eventually talk herself into cutting me out of her life again. I learned to get my two cents in when I can find an opportunity and hopefully stop the train wreck before it happens. I don’t like myself for it, but I suppose it’s just another thing to add to the list of old, counterproductive behaviors we need to work on going forward.

“I wasn’t going to say you should find someone else,” she insists. “I won’t lie, there are nasty voices inside me that like to get in my head and tell me stuff like that, and it gets really hard for me sometimes to see how you could even want me, but that wasn’t where I was going with this. Not this time. What I was going to say is let’s not strive for ‘close enough’ as an end goal like that, though I also don’t feel comfortable making you promises of where this will ultimately end up going just yet. All I can promise is that I’ll try. But what I need from you is a promise that you won’t keep quiet and suffer silently anymore. I’m not like I was then, and you can talk to me more openly. I promise I can handle it now.”

“Then I need a promise that if I do tell you what’s on my mind, you’ll hear me out and not just run away and shut me out the first chance you get. I need the block option taken off the table. Because if you want to talk about the one, single, solitary thing that’s not been fair to me and that bothers me above all else? It’s that.”

“Okay, yeah. You’re right about that,” she concedes without hesitation. “I guess that’s what I’m really apologizing for then, isn’t it? I’m sorry for shutting you out and running away every time I got overwhelmed, and I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner. I thought about it. I wanted to.”

“I wish you would have.”

“Honestly? Me too.”

We’re both quiet for a few minutes after that admission. I don’t know what’s going through her head, but for me, that felt like a gut punch. I’m debating whether I should keep up the whole “speak my mind” thing, because there’s a lot more I could say to her about that.

I appreciate what she’s trying to do here, apologizing and acknowledging the ways she feels like she has done me wrong, but those are just words. And right now, after she just admitted that, those words aren’t doing a whole lot to soothe the wounds left by the years she was closed off to me.

I have so many questions. I’m curious as hell about school, but there’s really only one thing about it all that still matters on my mind.

“I know you said you don’t know how long you’ll be staying, but when do you have to go back to school?”

And will you stay in contact when you go … though I really hope that’s not something I have to ask. She just agreed to no more impulsive blocking me out, and I really hope I can trust that she means it.

She sighs, and that one soft sound already has tears starting to flow. That sound means I won’t like her answer.

Not again, Ronnie. Please not again.

“I don’t know the answer to that,” she answers softly, reluctantly. “I hate to have to admit this, to you of all people, but school hasn’t been going so well for me, and I’m taking a break to figure out where to go from here. That’s actually the reason I’m staying with Aly for a bit.”

By the time she finishes catching me up on everything that has been going on at school, while I lie here in my bed and listen silently for once with every possible emotion cycling through me in turn and sometimes even all at once, I don’t know what to say to her. I’m not even sure if I remember how to use words right now.

I could be petty about it, rubbing it in her face that I offered her a solution to most of her problems before she even left. She could have avoided it all, other than maybe the bitchy professor, but at least she’d have had me to come home to at night to help her deal with that. If we’d followed my plan, neither of us would have suffered as much as we both apparently have through these years apart.

But that wouldn’t change the fact that it didn’t happen that way. Knowing that it has gone so badly for her does leave a bitter taste in my mouth, but overwhelmingly, I’m just worried for her. I want to find a way to make it better and make up for lost time. I want to put it all behind us and just give thanks that she’s here now, and she might be staying awhile. And I want to enjoy it.

Which is why what ends up coming out of my mouth isn’t any of what I’ve been thinking and brooding over as she talked.

“I’m so sorry that you’ve been going through all that,” I tell her sympathetically once she seems to have finished. “And I’m thinking what you really need now is some ice cream, not books.”

She laughs, though it’s one of those laughs that still sounds a little bit like crying, which she’s been doing a lot of.

“You’re right about the ice cream, but the books? Blasphemy.”

“Alright, fair point,” I concede, laughing with her now. “You can have both, and it can be my treat. I wish I could follow that up with ‘how about tomorrow?’ but the truth is, I have some work I need to catch up on, followed by a prior obligation with my brother-in-law, and then I have to go to my weekly family dinner. So, tomorrow is a massive no-go. But I’ll text you if I have some free time pop up in the next few days, okay?”

It kills me that everything I just said is true, no matter how much I wish it was an exaggeration. Although, there’s a growing part of me that’s about ready to tell Jeb to take a hike and play hooky on dinner so we can put a rush on our plans to get together.

“Well, I wasn’t obligating you. You don’t even have to do that, Jason. That does sound like a busy day for a Sunday, though.”

“I want to do it, Ronnie. I wish I could do it right now. I’ve been yearning for another date with you, and we were just talking about me making sure to ask for the things I want,” I remind her.

Cheap shot? Yes. Worth it? Definitely. I can’t help but smile as I listen to her laughing with amusement at how I so quickly threw her own words back at her to get my way.

“Fair enough,” she agrees, still chuckling. “Then I won’t deprive you, but there’s no rush on this end. I’ll be around, so feel free to hit me up whenever you’re available.”

“I’m going to hold you to it. We’re doing this. I promise you that.”