“In the meantime of what?”
“Finding a way to be a better person.”
That statement tweaks my unwilling heart a little. “Jet, having addictions or issues or overwhelming problems in your life doesn’t make you a bad person. We’re all works in progress. But now that you’re aware of what’s going on, maybe you can take steps to fix yourself.”
“Why do you think I picked you?” he asks softly.
“Having a sponsor isn’t the answer to all your problems, Jet, but maybe it’s a start to getting back on the right path.”
“Maybe I wasn’t talking about you as my sponsor,” he whispers.
“Jet, I . . . I can’t . . . I mean, we can’t . . .”
“Don’t start freakin’ out,” he warns with a crooked smile. “I’m not expecting anything. I know you’re doing this for . . . whatever reason you’re doing it. And I won’t take advantage of your kindness. But I feel like I should at least be honest with you about how I feel.” Jet raises his head and leans toward me on the couch. He’s not close enough to kiss me, but he’s close enough to touch. And that’s what he does. He reaches for my hand where it’s resting on my leg. He takes it in his and starts stroking my fingers, one by one, as he speaks. His eyes are downcast, watching our hands, but being free of his hypnotic gaze doesn’t mean I’m free of the spell he’s weaving. My heart speeds up. “From the moment you stood up in that meeting, I was attracted to you. I won’t lie. But then when I spoke to you, I was intrigued, too. I felt more drawn to you with every second we spent together. And tonight,” he says, pausing as if it hurts him to speak of it, “tonight it killed me to look up and see your face. To know that I put that hurt and disappointment there. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
“Jet, I—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“It’s what I do, Violet,” he confesses, his eyes finally rising to meet mine. “I hurt people. I don’t do it on purpose. It’s always just been a result of the way I am and the things I do. The worst part is, I’ve never really cared before. Not until you. I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m afraid that no matter how much I need you, no matter how much I want you in my life, it won’t matter. I’m afraid I’ll end up hurting you anyway. And I’d rather get my ass kicked every day for the rest of my life than to see that look on your face again.”
I appreciate what Jet is saying, but this reminds me why I can’t get emotionally involved with him. I don’t need that kind of trouble in my life. But I can’t walk away either. I’ve lied to the guy, and now he’s depending on me to support him. There’s absolutely no way that I could live with myself if I didn’t at least try to help him.
“Jet, I appreciate your honesty. I really do. And I appreciate your concern, but you aren’t going to hurt me because I’m not going to let you. I avoid getting too attached and too involved with people for this very reason. I’ve seen what caring too much, what getting too invested and falling in love can do to people. I don’t want any part of that. But that’s something I consider a strength in myself, especially in a case like this—my emotional distance. I can help you without getting too involved. This just reminds me of where I stand and the way things have to be. So thank you for that.”
And that’s mostly true. This has served as a great reiteration of why I can’t enjoy him and his company too much.
The smile that curves his lips doesn’t reach his eyes, which makes me curious what I’ve said that bothers him. But I won’t ask. I don’t need to know. This is the way things have to be. Period.
“So as long as I don’t fall in love with you, we’re good to go,” he says. I ignore the way my pulse jumps at his words.
I return his smile. “Exactly. Although I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you.”
“And why do you think that?”
“A guy like you probably has several types of women, and I’d be willing to bet I don’t fit the description of any of them.” My laugh is casual, even though the truth behind the words stings.
“I don’t think I really knew what my type was until I met you.”
My breath catches in my throat. I don’t know what to say to that. And I hate that I want Jet to kiss me right now. And I hate even more how much I want him to kiss me right now.
After several seconds, I recover. Somewhat. “Jet, if I’m to help you, you probably shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Are you saying you won’t help me if I’m honest with you about how I feel?”
When put like that, I sound like a douche if I say yes.
“No, but . . .”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No, it just . . .”
“Does it make you feel something you don’t want to feel?”
He’s being so honest with me, my answer is swift and true. It has to be. “Probably.”
Jet’s smile is dazzling. “I can’t say I’m disappointed to hear that. But my guess is that I’d better leave well enough alone tonight. Don’t want to push my luck.”
He makes no move to get up, however, so, reluctantly, I push myself to my feet. “That’s probably a good idea,” I tease, with a smile, hoping he can’t see how shaky I am.
Jet gets up and makes his way to the door, turning as he pulls it open. My lungs completely shut down with the desire for him to kiss me and the fear that he might do exactly that.
“I know it’s awfully soon and probably ballsy as hell to ask, but I’ve got back-to-back gigs this weekend. I don’t suppose you could find time in your schedule to come help a guy out, could you?” Just the thought of what I saw tonight and how I felt about it make me want to decline, but this is what I need to be doing—helping him. “It would really be a big thing for me. Seems like a lot of bad in my life is wrapped up in that stage.”
“Then why keep it up?”
Jet sighs. “Well, I need to work, obviously. And I love music. I’m still hoping to get some notice for my songs, and this is great exposure for ’em, so . . . And I don’t want to spend my life running from weakness. That’s not the answer any more than embracing it is.”
“No, you’re right. And I get that. I agree. If you have to be there, and this is what’s toughest, then of course I’ll come.”