Back To The Start Box Set: Five Full-Length Novels by Aly Martinez
I stare at him, blinking rapidly, not sure how to respond.
“You want to get out of here?”
“No,” I answer, pulling my head out of the sexual fog.
“No?”
“I’m not ready to go home yet,” I respond a little too honestly, sounding probably a little too needy.
“Okay, what if we head back to my place? I’ll cook you some dinner.”
“Oh, okay. Sure,” I say, shocked by his offer and my immediate excitement about going back to his house.
“When I say, ‘cook you some dinner,’ I really mean I’ll use my phone to order takeout.” He smirks.
“I don’t like pizza,” I respond awkwardly. Darn alcohol. This comment lightens our serious mood and causes Brett to laugh.
“Okay, beautiful. I have a whole drawer filled with menus. You can pick out whatever you want.”
“Perfect.”
Chapter Twelve
Brett
IT’S OFFICIAL. I’ve lost my fucking mind. I’m honestly clueless as to why I would ask Jesse back to my apartment. What did I expect? For her to fall into my bed naked, legs open, waiting for me to ravage her body? No. She panicked when I kissed her. I can’t even begin to fathom how she would react if she knew all the ways I have imagined having sex with her today. I couldn’t seem to help myself though. This girl makes my heart swell almost as much as my dick. I know I gave her the whole ‘just friends’ talk earlier. I really tried, but I couldn’t keep my hands off her any longer.
Jesse does things to me. She makes me feel like myself again for the first time since I lost Sarah. I had no idea how good it could feel to not be consumed in self-pity. For those three hours at the bowling alley, I forgot that I was supposed to be miserable. I forgot that my life had been ripped out from under my feet. I didn’t think about anything except getting hustled by a petite brunette who says darn, heck, and crap. I forgot it all. And that alone is a magical feat.
The most shocking of it all was that I didn’t worry about Sarah once. I should probably feel guilty about that, but honestly, I don’t. I obsess over Sarah daily. Is she taking her medications correctly? Is she happy? What will she want for dinner on Thursday? Did she remember to pay her power bill? The list goes on and on. Sarah isn’t helpless by any means, but I worry that she’ll need me and I won’t be there for her. It’s not like she would ever call me if she needed something though. Sarah has called me exactly one time since the accident. She wanted to know if I knew of a good divorce attorney.
Four Years Earlier…
“DAMN IT, Sarah. You are not making these decisions four weeks after almost dying!” I scream at her over the phone while leaving work.
“I’m not doing this anymore. I want to go home.”
“Sarah, you are home.”
“No, I’m not. This is your house. I don’t belong here anymore.”
“Fine. You want to move back to Savannah? Let’s go. I’m sure I can find a job down there.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Brett. Let me go!” She starts crying—like she does so often these days.
“Baby, please. Let’s go back to that counselor. I’ll do whatever you want. Tell me how to fix this.”
“There is no fixing this! I don’t love you. I haven’t loved you in a long time. Even before the accident. Things just weren’t right.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” This is the first time she has ever mentioned us falling apart before the accident.
“I asked Manda about a divorce attorney weeks before the wreck.”
“Oh really? Because last month you were talking about saving up money for a trip to renew our vows in a silly Las Vegas drive-thru chapel. Now you’re trying to tell me you actually wanted a divorce?”
I know she’s lying. Sarah never would have asked for a divorce without my feeling it coming months in advance. She was never able to hide her emotions inside. I would have known if things weren’t right in our relationship.
“Damn it. Fuck you! I want a divorce. I want to move out. You can’t hold me captive in this house. I’m not your fucking prisoner. Get it through your head. I don’t want to be with you anymore!”
“Yeah, I think I gathered that when you started this conversation by asking about a divorce attorney.”
“See! This is why I hate you. You’re a prick. You talk down to me and treat me like a child.”
I just sigh, at a loss for words. “How about tomorrow we go visit Manda’s grave? I think it would do you some good to finally go say goodbye. You’re harboring a lot of guilt and taking it out on me.”
“What the fuck! Did you just go all Dr. Phil on me? I’m not going to a grave to visit my best friend. She isn’t there!” She shrieks so loudly that, I have to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Jesus. Can you please just calm down? I’m on my way home. We can talk when I get there.”
“I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me.”
This time I’m the one yelling. “I love you! I’m going to do everything in my fucking power to stop you. Damn it. You’re my wife!”
“No, I’m not,” she whispers, ending the call.
It’s not like her to give up so quickly. She’s been different since the accident. She’s always withdrawn and moody these days, but deep inside, she is still the same Sarah. Never in her life has she given up without a fight. We can argue for hours over pizza toppings, so her just hanging up worries me. I flip on my lights and speed home, grossly abusing my resources as an officer of the law, but something isn’t right.
I arrive at the house five minutes later. After parking my car in the driveway, I rush inside to find her tucked into the couch crying. I’m relieved that she’s okay. Then I’m saddened when I realize this is what “okay” looks like for Sarah these days. She’s curled into a ball, knees pulled to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. She looks so lost, and it kills me that I can’t help her. I want to be her rock and help her recover from this, but she won’t let me. I need to be able to fix this for her. For me. I miss my wife, even though she is sitting directly in front of me. I can’t reach out and hold her like I so badly long to. She won’t even let me touch her anymore.
Before the accident, Sarah used to hate being alone. Now, she stays locked away in her own head for days at a time. By the look on her face, I can tell that’s where she’s at right now. Instead of trying to force a conversation that I know will lead nowhere, I decide to give her some space. Maybe, in a little while, she’ll have calmed down enough to talk. I won’t hold my breath though.
Disheartened, I walk past her, heading to the bathroom for a shower. As I enter the bathroom door, I freeze at the scene I find in front of me. Littered across the floor is every pill bottle we had in the house. Each one open. Lids thrown haphazardly across the room. All empty.
“SARAH!” I scream, running from the bathroom to find her no longer sitting on the couch.
The front door is wide open, warm air blowing in. I frantically rush outside, expecting to have to chase her down. When I jump off the front porch, not even bothering with the steps, I catch sight of her lying facedown in the grass.
“Sarah!” I scream, hoping for a response.
My legs won’t carry me fast enough to what I fear is her lifeless body. It feels like it’s taken me an hour just to travel the ten steps over to her. I quickly scoop her into my arms and sink down onto the grass with her limp body in my lap.
“Sweetheart, wake up. I need you to talk to me. Please, Sarah!” I shake her, trying to rouse her back to consciousness.
“Let me go,” she softly mumbles.
I breathe out a sigh of relief that it’s not too late. I still have a chance to fight to save her life, even if she won’t do it for herself.
“Did you take them all?” I ask, pulling my phone out of my inside jacket pocket.
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore. Let me go, Brett,” she murmurs before closing her eyes and dropping her h
“Never, baby. Never,” I whisper, kissing her on the forehead. “Yes, this is Detective Brett Sharp, I need an ambulance at my house immediately. 1921 Hunters Court. My wife just overdosed.”
* * *
“GOT IT!” I hear Jesse say while digging through my drawer-o-menus.
I walk over, wrapping her in my arms, needing her to help me forget all over again.
“Your hair smells good.” I breathe in a rich floral scent and rest my chin on the top of her head. The image of innocent Jesse Addison bathing in flowers pops into my head—although my mental picture is more American Beauty than a G-rated fabric softener commercial.
“I bet it smells more like a stinky bowling alley right now.”
“Yeah, you’re right. You should really try a shower sometime,” I joke as she pinches my stomach. “Did you decide on a place?”
“Mmmhmm,” she nods.
“Good. Just order me whatever and I’ll grab some beers out of the fridge.”
“I can’t order your food!” she shouts.
“Um, why not?” I ask, confused by her sudden freak-out.
“I don’t even know what you like to eat.”
“Jess, you make me breakfast almost every morning.”
“Yes, but I doubt the Chinese restaurant carries fruit and granola.”
“I eat at that restaurant three times a week. There is not a dish on that menu that I won’t eat.”
“You eat takeout three times a week?” she asks my back as I walk into the kitchen to grab our drinks.
“No. I eat takeout seven nights a week. I don’t cook.”
“Wow. That’s just sad. Maybe I can cook you dinner one night this week—” She abruptly stops and her cheeks heat to pink when she realizes that she just asked me on another date.
“I’d love that.” I smile, twisting off the top and handing her a beer.
She rushes a relieved sigh as she lifts the bottle to her mouth, taking a large sip.
I’m not sure if it’s still the alcohol, but the idea of a date with Jesse doesn’t scare me anymore. That’s unusual because the very idea of dating usually sends me into some sort of panic mode. But after having spent the day with her, I like the idea of seeing her again. I’m nowhere near ready to jump into a relationship, so I need to be very careful here. Jesse doesn’t strike me as the type of girl who can stand casually dating. The last thing I want to do is lead her on, and eventually break her heart when I can’t be what she needs.
“Can we talk for a minute?” I grab her hand, pulling her over to the couch.
When she tries to sit beside me, I surprise her by dragging her up into my lap. She sits stiffly for a few seconds before relaxing into me.
“So, as you can tell, the whole ‘just friends’ thing didn’t work out very well.” She quietly giggles as I continue. “I’m sorry about everything earlier today. I haven’t been on a date in years, and I’m sure I behaved like an ass.”
“I understand,” she says quietly, staring down at her beer.
“Hey, look at me.” I gently coax her eyes back to mine. “Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?” she asks, looking up.
“One minute, you’re laughing and giving me shit about my lack of bowling skills. The next, you’re staring at your feet and acting like a neglected puppy.”
“I don’t know. This is just weird…” She trails off without finishing the thought.
“Come on. Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell me what’s going on inside that gorgeous head of yours.”
“I have no idea what’s going on here. A few days ago, I asked you to the game and you obviously didn’t want to go. I can only guess Caleb forced you to show up today. Then you tell me you’re married, only to later tell me that you lost your wife. Then”—her voice rises a little more with each sentence—”you spend the entire afternoon flirting and staring at my boobs, eventually kissing me and inviting me back to your apartment for dinner. I have no idea when your next mood swing is going to hit. I’ll be honest—if you weren’t so darn sexy, I would not still be sitting here right now.” She pauses before jumping off my lap and screaming, “Crap, I have got to stop drinking and telling you how hot you are!” She finishes by chugging the rest of her beer.
I can’t stop the roar of laughter that escapes my mouth.
“Great! Now you’re laughing at me. I need to go.” She puts the empty bottle down and turns to the door.
“Whoa. Hang on there. Not so fast.” I grab her from behind, pulling her back down onto my lap. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a jerk over the last few days. You’re not the only one getting whiplash from my sudden changes. I don’t know what’s going on either. So, what if I tell you a few things I do know?
“I know that I had a blast with you today. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed this much. And before you try to cut me off, I’m not laughing at you. I will never laugh at you. I think you’re cute”—she tries to interrupt me, but I just keep going—”and sexy. I like you. When I’m with you, I feel alive again. I’m not sure what to do with that though. I am in no position to jump into a relationship. Jess, I haven’t been with any woman but my wife in twelve years. I don’t even know how to start something like this. All I can tell you is that I want to spend more time with you.”
“You know, that’s what Caleb told me. He told me you were interested, but you just didn’t know what to do with that yet.”
“Well, finally Caleb was right about something.”
“Are you going to go back to the angry ogre tomorrow?” she asks shyly.
“Since I have absolutely no clue what you are talking about, I’m going to say no. But! I reserve the right to change my answer when you explain to me what exactly the angry ogre is.” I smile to make sure she knows that I’m kidding. I think she gets my sense of humor, but I can’t afford for her to take a joke the wrong way after the way I’ve acted recently.
“I’ll point him out if he ever shows back up. Can we order some food now? I just chugged that beer, and it’s going straight to my head.”
“Absolutely! But only if you promise to never stop calling me hot.” I wink and stand. Still holding her around the waist, I slide her down my body until her feet touch the ground.
“Not laughing at me, huh?” she asks, raising one eyebrow.
“Oh, I’m not laughing at all. I’m thinking about bringing you beer to work every day. You do great things for my self-confidence when you’re drinking.” This comment earns me a light slap on the arm.
“Just what you need is a bigger ego.”
“Jess, you wound me! I bet if you reach up here and give me another one of those kisses, I’d be willing to forgive you.”
“In your dreams, big boy. And don’t you dare say, ‘That’s what she said,’ again. You are not nearly as quiet as you think you are.”
This time, we both bust out laughing. Seconds later, I silence her with my lips.
* * *
AFTER ORDERING Chinese food, we spend the rest of night curled up on the couch, pretending to be watching old movies but really making out like teenagers. We were able to keep things on a very PG level. Jesse apparently isn’t the type of girl to go any further on a first date. She didn’t say this to me, but when I trailed kisses down her chest toward her exposed cleavage, she literally jumped off the couch, making an excuse about using the restroom. After that, I kept my hands and mouth focused above the neck. There is tons of stuff above the neck. I licked her neck and sucked on her ears. She made the cutest moans and sighs when I would let my teeth graze across her skin. I laughed once because I swear she almost got off.
Jesse gave just as well as she took. She did amazing things with her tongue that only served to get me excited to see what else she could do with that mouth.
At almost midnight, she announces that it’s time for her to leave.
“Brett, I’ve got to go home,?
“Why?” I follow her forward trying to continue the kiss.
I’m not ready for her to leave yet. After our rough start earlier, this day has been perfect. It’s not very often that I feel this way, so I’m reluctant to let her go, leaving me to face my shitty life again. I want to ask her to stay the night, but I remind myself that this is only our first date. Besides, I have been hard for almost ten hours straight. Asking her to stay is not in anyone’s best interest. She seems to have loosened up around me over the last few hours, but I’m relatively sure that waking up to me unconsciously dry humping her in the middle of the night would not go over well.
“It’s late, and we both have to work in the morning,” she says, squirming out of my arms and picking up her boots.
“All right. If you insist. You’re still cooking me dinner this week, right?”
“Of course. How about Thursday? I have class Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon, so it won’t give me enough time to prepare the food.”
“Oh, um…Thursdays are bad for me.” Of course she would pick the one night that I see Sarah every week.
And just like that, all of the guilt and responsibilities come crashing back down on my shoulders. It was one night of freedom, but it was just long enough to remind me how great it is to feel like myself again. All good things must come to an end, right? The universe has never been kind to me. I should have predicted that Jesse’s only free night would be a Thursday.
“Okay, how about Friday?” She smiles.
“Yeah, that works,” I say in somber tone.
“What’s going on? You just flipped on me again. You went from funny and sweet to sad and distant.”
I let out a loud breath, feeling bad that I keep doing this to her. “No, I’m fine. I just don’t want to wait until Friday to see you again.” It’s the truth, but not the answer to her question. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”