"What kind of bread does Della eat again?" Lorraine asks me.
"She eats the white wheat kind."
"You know, you're a pretty good man, J. It's really nice of you to do this for her every week."
"She doesn't have anyone else," I mutter. "But I also like the company, so I don't mind."
Della is the elderly woman who lives across the lake from me, inconveniently right beside of Baya's house. She moved here about a year ago after her niece passed away. Della's in her mid-eighties and doesn't get around as well as she used to, so every week I make a run into town to pick up groceries for her, any medicine that she has, and when she needs to go to the doctor or go to the bank, I take her.
Della is like a grandma to me, and I like spending time with her. She's lived an interesting life.
"Still. You don't have to do it, but you do anyways. I'm really proud of you, big brother." Lorraine smiles at me, and it's the kind that resonates throughout your whole body.
Everything I've been through. Everything I've done. Everything I've sacrificed. The look on my sister's face right now just lets me know that it was all worth it.
Not every aspect of my life is all sunshine and rainbows because I still have my issues, but Lorraine turned out okay. Jax is pretty good too. If I can just make it another year with Lyla, I can breathe freely again—sort of.
But to know that at least one of my siblings thinks I'm a good man, means that hopefully I didn't totally screw up.
"Thanks, Lo."
"What else do you need to get for her?"
"Just some milk, eggs, butter, and ice cream."
We make our way over to the cold section of the store, grabbing the milk, eggs, and butter. The ice cream is on the next aisle over. Della gave me strict instructions to only get the Breyer's peach kind and that if I got anything else other than that, she'd skin my hide.
The woman is crazy particular about her ice cream.
As we turn the corner, I recognize a blonde standing at the other end of the aisle, staring at the ice cream section. I know it's Baya as soon as I see her because the energy in the room changes. She's always been effortlessly beautiful. Standing there in her jean shorts, baggy t-shirt that's tied to the side, her hair in a messy bun.
I forgot how gorgeous she was. She may have changed in other aspects, but her looks aren't too far from what she looked like before. She was a girl back then, but now she's all woman.
No, Jensen. Stop thinking of her that way. She left you, broke your heart, and you hate her.
You hate her.
"Baya!" Lorraine squeaks. She immediately turns our way, and I can visibly see her body turn tense, as does mine. I guess we have that affect on each other now.
"Hey Lo," she says. Her voice is a bit sad, and she's not as bubbly as she was the first time we ran into each other. I mean she may have had a bite to her then, but she still seemed genuinely excited to see my sister.
She's picking at her fingers, and although I hate her, I still know that it means something's wrong. What's wrong with her?
Fuck. Why do I keep thinking thoughts that would suggest I care about her? Her being here is messing me up in more ways than one.
"What are you doing here?"
"Ice cream run," she says, voice weak. Her eyes slide over to mine, but I tighten my gaze to wash away the concern in my eyes that I held before.
I've hated her for as long as I can remember. But she's only been here a couple of weeks and I'm already starting to think differently about her. It's easy to hate someone when they live across the country from you.
But seeing her just brings back all the good memories we have together, and that only reminds me of the girl I once knew. The one I loved with all my heart. I'm gonna have to work harder at hating her now that she's around all the damn time.
"I see that," Lorraine laughs, leaning her head to look in Baya's cart. It's got all her favorite kinds in there – which is like three cartons – but she's still looking for more. Something really must be wrong. "We still need to get that coffee and catch up."
"Yes, we do," she half smiles. "When are you free? My schedule is clear...well, indefinitely right now."
"The day after tomorrow?" She asks. "We can do coffee and sweets at the bakery if you'd like."
"Yeah, that works for me."
Lorraine hugs her and they part ways. I avoid speaking to her. I don't have to speak, even if she is friends with my sister. I didn't expect to have to see her much, but this rekindling of friendship with Lorraine means that I'll most likely be seeing her more often.
Fucking wonderful.
"Are you okay?"
I realize that I've been staring at the direction Baya walked in. I'm totally fucked.
"Why wouldn't I be okay?"
She laughs at me—the kind that makes her head fall back and a totally forced laugh to come out at a tone that's too loud considering we're in the middle of a grocery store.
"You forget that I know you, J. Her being here is making you think and feel a lot of things. I can see it in your eyes and in your body language."
"Her being here is only making my hatred for her that much more amplified."
"Yeah right," she elbows me. "Hate is what you're feeling. Because I believe that."
"Do you not forget what happened?" I ask in a tone that's slightly furious, my voice raised a bit.
"No, I don't. But I do know there's so much more to what happened than you even know. You've just got your head shoved so far up your ass that you can't see it. I know that the both of you could have handled things differently back then, but just remember that it's been a long time. Things have changed."
I roll my eyes, tired of getting the third degree from my sister.
"And one more thing," she adds, stepping closer to me and getting in my face, pointing her finger in my chest. "If you make her life here hell, and you make me lose one of my best friends again, you'll answer to me. Got it?"
Trying not to think about where the hell that just came from—and why she would think I'd make her life hell—I just nod so that this conversation can end.
-----------
"Thank you for doing this for me, Jensen. You're really too kind to an old woman like me."
Della and I are sitting outside on her porch, enjoying the warmth of the April sun and the slight breeze that's still present.
"Della, you know I don't mind at all. I enjoy the company."
I can't keep my eyes from wandering over to her house, trying to see what she's doing, seeing if she comes outside.
I feel Della's hand rest on mine, bringing my focus back to her.
"Jensen, sweetie. I kept saying your name and you didn't hear me."
"I'm sorry, Della. I was distracted," I say, gazing back over at her house for just a second.
"What's going on with you, boy? You keep staring over there at that girls house."
I rest my elbows on my knees as I drop my head between my shoulders. I look back up at Della and take a deep breath.
I catch Della up on everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything.
How we met. When we started dating. What Baya done for me after the accident. How she left. The way it made me feel. How life went for me after she left. All the way to her infamous return.
"Is her being back really affecting you that much?"
"More than I'd like to admit," I grumble.
"Well, seems like you've got little internal battle going on. Do you still care about her?"
"I have a girlfriend, Della. You know that."
"That ain't what I asked you, boy." She reaches forward and wraps my hand in both of hers. "I asked if you still care about her."
Although I hate her for what she did, somewhere in there is still the girl I once loved.
"Yeah," I sigh. "I guess I do. I probably always will. She was my everything at one point."
"Well in my experience, if you still care for her, there's a reason."
"But she hurt me, Della. She hurt me really bad, and for the longest time I didn't think I'd come back from it."
"People are gonna hurt you, Jensen. Sometimes it'll be on purpose, and other times it'll be unintentional. And sometimes we have to make others hurt because it's better than the alternative."
"I don't get it. Why would someone hurt someone else on purpose? I can't see how hurting someone is the better option in any situation."
"Doesn't seem like you've been in a situation like that, so you might not ever understand. But can I just say one thing about that?"
"Of course, Della."
"You said she left without considering you. I think there's more to the story, especially with how much love you two had for each other in those four years you dated." She looks right into my eyes, gripping my hand a little tighter. "There are two sides to every story, Jensen. Just because you don't like someone's side doesn't mean it ain't worth hearing."
Why is everyone giving me the third degree today? Or is it more unsolicited advice? I guess just because I don't want to hear it doesn't mean I don't need to.
After saying my goodbyes, I make my way to my truck and before I get in, I take one more look at her house. She's sitting on the dock, looking in my direction. We stay like that for a few minutes, just staring at each other. I can't let anything show until I know more myself, so I turn my gaze into a glare and get in my truck.
I breathe a sigh of relief once I'm back in the comfort of my home, away from her stare. Dropping my keys at the door, I make my way to the kitchen and pour a double of whiskey before heading into the living room. I have a direct line view to her house, and she's got her guitar now, but I have to turn away so that I don't focus on her.
I don't why I'm so damn drawn to her. I don't want to be.
Nikki's sitting on the couch when I enter, mindlessly scrolling through her phone.
"How'd you get in?" I ask.
"Jax let me in before he left. I came to talk about the cookout you're having and to go over some final details."
"Okay," I sigh, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch from her.
"How many people are coming? Do you know?"
Nikki's always worried about how many people are coming. She's too focused on making appearances and caring what other people think. Not to mention she floats around like a politician, always flaunting her job at other people and whatnot.
But she's not always hard to be around. It's better than being lonely, and she gives good head. I sound like a total ass, but I'm selfish—after what I've been through, I think I deserve to be that way a bit.
"Not sure. Lorraine was doing all of that so probably at least fifty."
"Okay, and the food?"
"That's all me. I've got everything I need for that except plates and silverware. I'll get those tomorrow."
Nikki sits the to-do list she's holding onto the coffee table and leans to prop her arm against the arm of the couch.
"Is there anything else that needs to be done before the party this weekend?"
Thinking it over in my head, I can't think of anything else that needs to be done. I have the food, cups, RSVPs for who's coming, and I'll get plates tomorrow and Jax will get ice the day of.
"No, nothing that I can think of."
I go to look at my phone, my fingers carrying me to places they shouldn't be. Like Baya's Instagram account—and her employer's account—because I'm just trying to see if she enjoyed her life after she ruined mine.
I expected there to be pictures of her living it up. Pictures of her with artists, at fancy parties and events, going out and doing things. That's not what's on there though.
There're rarely any pictures of her face. These pictures are simpler, aesthetic. Pictures of just her guitar and songbook, black and white pictures of her playing, pictures of her out running, showing off the scenery at various spots throughout L.A. There's also a few with awards that she's won.
Why wouldn't she show her face? She left here—left me—to go live this big, fancy life. Why wouldn't she want to show it off?
Thoughts that I really don't want to think about start popping into my head. Thoughts that would make my hatred for her lessen... or at least make me question it.
What if her life out there wasn't what she thought it'd be? If it was, she'd have showcased her life more. I mean yeah, I've seen pictures of her success, but it's not that. There are barely any pictures of her with any friends, coworkers, at parties... or with any men.
No, Jensen. Stop thinking about her love life since she left. You don't care.
"What are you looking at?" Nikki says. Her hands come up over my shoulders, running down my chest to rest on my pecks. They travel further south, tracing over the abs that I work so hard to keep. It's no secret that whiskey is a good friend of mine, so I work harder than I should to keep them. Plus, working out and running is a good outlet for me.
"Just responding to some texts. Lorraine wanted to bring another dessert Saturday and asked if I wanted anything specific."
"That's nice of her," she responds, trailing her hands further down my body as I feel her lips on my neck.
"What are you doing?" I ask, voice devoid of its usual rasp that occurs during this particular activity.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" She says, adding a bit of suction to her kiss. "Jax is working, Lyla's gone. It's just us here." Her hand lightly grabs at my cock through my jeans—which would normally be at least semi-hard right now—but is sitting soft.
Weird.
"Nikki now isn't the time. I'm not in the mood. And I run a business, you can't be giving me hickeys. That's not professional."
"You're not in the mood? Since when are you not in the mood?" Her voice is a bit hurt, but I couldn't care less right now. That's a dick move on my part but it's just not the main focus for me now.
"I'm just really stressed lately, okay? Sex isn't on my mind much."
"We don't have to have sex," she counters. "Let me make you feel good." She drops to her knees in front of me, reaching forward to pop the button of my jeans open.
"No, Nikki. I'm good." I grab her hands, stopping her from pulling my zipper down. She's one movement away from pulling my soft cock out of my jeans.
She looks up at me and for just a minute, I think she may be embarrassed at my rejection, but then something flickers in her eyes and what I thought was embarrassment shifts to irritation.
"You know what," she sighs. "I have a work dinner in a little while. I'm just going to leave so that I can go home and get ready beforehand." She grabs her purse and her keys and turns to look at me one more time. "I'll see you this weekend for the cookout." And with that, she leaves.
Things have been off with us lately. It's partially my fault. She's not someone I see myself ending up with, but it's better than being lonely. And I know that makes me fucking selfish, but the worst part is that I know at some point Baya will see me with her. I can't let her see how much her leaving affected me because that would be letting her win. That just can't happen.
Thoughts of her have become more consuming than I'd like. When I found out she moved back, I thought my hatred for her would be an easy excuse to not have to think about her.
That was a fucking lie.
She's here now. Barely 150 yards away from me. Living in her childhood home, all alone. The thought of her that close to me basically keeps her in my mind 24/7. It's infuriating.
I don't want to think about her. I don't want to think about the good times we had. When I think of her, I only want to remember the hurt she caused me.
However, I can't keep my eyes from trailing across the lake, watching as she works on the dock.
With her guitar resting in her lap, her feet hanging over the edge of the dock barely scraping the surface of the water, and her hair in a loose braid hanging over her shoulder—she's beautiful.
As much as I hate her for breaking my heart, I can't deny how effortlessly gorgeous she is. She's the perfect depiction of the girl next door, but even after our run in the other day, I can tell that innocence has been tainted. There's a bit of edginess to her now, not to mention the sadness that radiates off her.
She's not the Baya I once knew, but I don't think that girl is completely gone either. Which makes hating her even harder.
Then I think back to what Della said earlier about there being two sides to every story, even if I don't like what the other is. It's still worth hearing.
But do I want to hear her side of things? What if the story I've been telling myself for seven years is a lie?
I've spent seven years hating Baya for what she done.
If I hear her side and I stop hating her, I'm afraid that the feelings I've masked with that hatred over the years will start to make their way through again, and I just can't afford that.
I can't go through it again.
I'm not sure it's something I could survive again.
Minimalizing my time around her will help me keep my sanity. So, for now, I'm just gonna stick to my hatred for her. It's the best defense I have right now.
You have no idea how excited I am to finally share Della with you <3 I love sweet old ladies in stories. They're so wise and have no filter--just the kind of person I like.
What are we thinking about Jensen's current thoughts? Any predictions on how this cookout will go?
Any bets on how long Jensen's hatred will last?
Things are starting to get interesting now and will only start to increase in intensity from here on out. Buckle up and get ready for the ride.
Happy Thursday and I hope you love this chapter (:
If you're doing anything cool this weekend, let me know in the comments!