Saving Landon Part 75

"Even if he goes," she whispered, "if you two haven't made up, what makes you think he'll be happy? What if his feet take him across the world, fueled from a place of anger and despair?"

"Then that's his choice," I answered.

"No, it's not. That'll be what you did to him."

We sat in silence for the next episode, but the night was gone. That's why I didn't try to stop her when she picked up her purse and kicked her heels back on.

"Just think about it," Natalie told me when she kissed my cheek goodbye. "You might be making a huge mistake here."

"It's a mistake either way," I shrugged.

After a solemn look in my eyes, she was gone out the door, just like Dalton.

For the second time in about a week, I had driven someone away from the apartment leaving me alone with miserable thoughts.

You will probably not be surprised to hear that solitude plus an abyss of depressing thoughts is not exactly a fantastic combination.

For the rest of the day I sat there on that couch, letting the TV mindlessly play in front of me. Maybe Natalie's right, I found myself thinking. She hasn't really steered me wrong yet...

But I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I knew what Dalton would say if we talked about it. He'd convince me that we could make it work. He'd find a way to talk me down, back into his arms, just shelving the problem for now.

No, I thought to myself.

I have to be strong for him... for both of us.

A slight rumbling pulled my attention away. I glanced over at my phone to see a number I didn't recognize. Nope, not the time, I thought to myself.

Instead, I tried to embroil myself into the television. I was actually starting to chuckle at a few of the jokes when the phone rang again.

Same number. I ignored it again.

Not two minutes later, it rang again, and then again. I was starting to get frustrated now, but the caller wasn't letting my voicemail pick up.

It was on the fifth call that I bitterly s.n.a.t.c.hed the phone up, paused Netflix, and answered.

"You've got the wrong number!"

"Oh, I think I have the right number..."

My breath caught in my throat.

"...Jeremy?"

"Yeah, it's me," my ex-boyfriend smoothly whispered down the line. "I switched phones a few weeks back. Glad to see that your number still works, because it didn't before..."

"I blocked you," I angrily told him. "Just like I'm going to in just a moment."

"Before you do that, I wanted to talk to you about something," Jeremy coolly stated. "Can you give me just, like, five minutes of your time? For old time's sake?"

Right then and there, I knew that I should hang up. But I was weak and upset, and something inside me seized up.

"Look, what do you want?"

Jeremy paused. "Clara, you sound upset."

"Yeah, well, it's been a rough couple of days," I bitterly mentioned. "So just go ahead and tell me whatever you want to tell me. Not five minutes. You're getting two. Clock's ticking."

"No, that's not important right now," Jeremy replied, sounding almost concerned. "What's much more important to me is that you're okay. Are you okay? You sound like you're about to cry."

"Just leave me the f.u.c.k alone," I growled.

"Look, I know we didn't exactly end... on a good note, but I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am," Jeremy murmured. "And we don't ever have to speak again... if that's what you really want. But I've changed, Clara. I was such a fool to let you go..."

Is this SERIOUSLY happening right now?

"You've got to be kidding me," I half-chuckled. "After all this time, you choose now to apologize for that s.h.i.t? You seriously hurt me, Jeremy. I didn't think I'd ever get over what you did to me. I'm only just becoming okay with it now... or, I thought I was."

"I know," he replied. "I was a serious a.s.shole. I deserved you dumping me. That's exactly what it took for me to see the truth..."

Oh, no. Don't you DARE.

"...That I love you, and I'm just lesser without you. You make me complete, Clara. You always did."

"We are not having this conversation right now," I told him furiously, feeling something inside start to crack. It cracked so quickly that it even broke my voice. "Just leave me alone. I've moved on, Jeremy."

"I can tell that you haven't, not really," he replied calmly. "Look, I'm not asking for any promises or anything. But it sounds like you're having a rough go of things, right? Maybe that guy from that date; I'm guessing things didn't work out so well with him?"

My breath stopped in my throat, and I couldn't even squeeze out the slightest reply.

Jeremy chuckled sardonically. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You've been hurt again. All I'm asking is for a little of your time, okay? I know you're comfortable around me. Let's get your mind off of him, isn't that what you need?"

"What I need, I have," I barely choked out.

"Let me guess... you're at your apartment. Natalie's out, so you're alone and watching Netflix, right? Just you, alone with your thoughts?"

G.o.ddammit, he's got me f.u.c.king pinned.

"Look, Clara, I know you. And you know me. You know that I'm not a bad guy, I just got my... priorities f.u.c.ked up, for a little while there. I'm not asking you back... I wouldn't dream of that yet. But I'm lonely, and you're lonely... we're both hurting. Let's go get dinner together, okay? Just dinner. No pressure. What do you say?"

It was so sudden. I hadn't seen it coming, and I was never good about being put on the spot like this... especially with someone that I did miss, even if he was a complete a.s.shole.

But then again, Dalton had been a total p.r.i.c.k the night that I met him, too... at least at first. Maybe Jeremy had changed. He certainly sounded like he might have.

And he was right, as much as I hated to admit it. The last thing that I really needed right now was to be alone with myself, trying to solve some depressing problem in my head that nothing was going to fix, no matter how I tried...

I could use the distraction.

Besides... it was only dinner, right?

Dinner was practically harmless.

"Okay, Jeremy, " I finally conceded with a defeated shrug. "Let's do dinner tonight."

"Perfect. I knew you'd come around, Clara."

As I heard his wicked little chuckle over the phone, I wondered if I hadn't just made a huge mistake...

55.

Arrogant Brit

Chapter 18.

The Californian sun baked down onto my shoulders as I stepped out onto the familiar driveway from my rental car. Covering my eyes, I began strolling the short distance around the front of the expensive little house, perched at the edge of this cul-de-sac.

It hadn't taken me long to consider the hot, bright desert of the American Southwest another stunning rendition of home sweet home. After all, I'd spent years under this burning sun, in an environment easily just as inhospitable as this one.

While I walked up the driveway, my mind drifted back to the same place it had the entire week that I'd been here: my last night with Clara.

...And what a cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k that had been.

She'd seriously wounded my soul with the severity and suddenness of her emotional reversal. It had taken me an hour of stomping around my rental house and throwing s.h.i.t before I could finally cool down enough to think rationally. That's when I'd decided to call upon one of my closest friends in the marines, and I booked a flight for the following morning out to California.

Almost every day since then, I'd ventured out into the blinding, white heat to come to this house... the one place that I thought might heal me.

"Dalton!"

My old marine buddy, Darren, was standing in the backyard and waving me over. "You're right on time, man. I'm just heating up the grill now. Not exactly bangers and mash, but how do you feel about a solid, one hundred percent unadulterated American burger?"

"You guys always kicked our b.l.o.o.d.y a.r.s.es when it came to food," I grinned. We embraced with matching backslaps, and his beautiful wife popped out through the sliding backdoor.

"Dalton! I thought I heard you pulling up a moment ago. Welcome back!"

Sam gave me a peck on the cheek as I hugged her. "Are you feeling any better?"

Samantha was Darren's high school flame. They'd separated after he entered his marine career, unable to withstand the distance, but when he got out two years ago they had worked to rekindle that fire.

The rest was history.

"Oh, leave him alone," Darren smiled as he played with the charcoal. "He's still here, which tells me what I need to know."

I overlooked them talking about it in front of me as if I wasn't here, but I was pleased that the subject was being dropped.

"I'm fine," I rea.s.sured her. "Just enjoying this little impromptu vacation for the moment."

"Good! How are you liking California?"

"Not too bad, although I'm sure I've bedded women wetter than this entire state," I smiled crudely. "Once you get over that part, it's actually pretty nice out here."

"I'm sure you have!" Sam laughed. "h.e.l.l, maybe I have, too..."

It had come as a bit of a surprise that they had an open marriage. It personally wasn't for me, or anything I'd ever partic.i.p.ate in, but it didn't take much convincing for me to see that they were hopelessly in love with each other.

Good for them, I thought to myself.

"Anyway, can I grab you anything from inside?" Sam politely asked me. "I'd be a horrible hostess if you were out here parched under this sun!"

"Actually, could I trouble you for a beer?"

"By all means. We still have a few Newcastles in the fridge, unless you'd like a Mexican import? Options are Dos XX and Corona, off the top of my head..."

"Dos XX, if you'd be so kind," I replied. "If you've got it, Lager."

"I think we just might," she smiled before turning back to her husband. "How about you, dear? Feeling thirsty?"

Darren was preparing a few patties on the counter beside the built-in grill. Pausing to think for a moment, he shrugged. "Go ahead and make that two."

"Okay then, back in a sec!"

She sauntered inside, and we started trading old war stories.

Darren was a good man. He'd been one of the more senior members to my platoon, an older, more rugged version of myself. We'd become fast friends in the line of fire... bash brothers, they sometimes called a pair like us.

Darren had retired three years before I left the marines. With a steady military pension and a ton of money in the bank, he'd had the luxury of throwing himself into picking up a new skill.

The others were a little surprised to see that he'd become a freelance novelist, but it didn't surprise me much. The guy was highly introspective, and very detail-oriented. With his firm grasp of Marine life, a greater scope of military operations, and a ton of stories kicking around in the back of his head, he was already starting to make waves with his first novel's release.

Last I'd heard, he was a sure shot to the tail end of the New York Times Bestsellers List.

When Sam returned with the refreshments, we were laughing riotously over some of the military pranks we'd pulled during our tenure overseas.

Life was always rough out there, and war never changed. But it was all about the approach you took to the life you chose.