Kristen Ashley - Jagged

“Happy.”

My smile died.

Ham didn’t miss it.

His intelligent eyes grew sharp on my face. “This a good guy?”

“Yeah,” I answered. It was quick, firm, and honest.

Ham noted that, too, but that didn’t change the look in his eyes. “Gotta find a guy who makes you happy,” he told me.

I did. You, I thought.

“Greg’s sweet. He’s mellow, Ham, which I like. He’s really nice. He also really likes me and lets it show, and I like that, too. Things are going great,” I assured him.

Ham’s reply was gentle but honest, as Ham always was.

“Things might be goin’ good, Zara, but I can see it on your face, babe, they’re not goin’ great.”

“He’s a good guy,” I stressed.

“I believe you,” Ham returned. “And he’s givin’ you somethin’ you want. I’m all for that, darlin’. But you can’t settle for what you want. You gotta find what you need.”

I did. You, I thought again and found this conversation was making me slightly pissed and not-so-slightly uncomfortable.

I knew this man. I’d tasted nearly every inch of him. He’d returned the favor. I had five years with him in my life. Four months of that solid and, for me and Ham, exclusive back in the day when I was waitressing at The Dog and Ham was bartending. Four months solid of me waking up in his bed every morning from our first date to the day he left town.

Now he was advising me on what kind of man I should settle for.

I didn’t like this.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about Greg,” I suggested.

“Might be a good idea,” Ham replied, his attention shifting to Trudy, who set his beer on the table.

“You two ready to order?” she asked.

“Turkey and Swiss melt and chips,” I ordered.

“Buffalo burger, jack cheese, rings,” Ham said after me.

“Gotcha,” Trudy replied, snatching up the menus and then she was again off, which meant I again had Ham’s attention.

“Last thing I wanna do is piss you off, cookie,” he told me quietly.

“You didn’t piss me off,” I assured him.

“Good, ’cause, your man can handle it, I wanna find a way where I don’t lose you.”

The instant he was done speaking, I felt my throat tingle.

Oh God, we were already here. I suspected our lunch would lead us here, just not this soon.

We were at the place where I had to make a decision.

Greg wouldn’t care if Ham and I worked out a way to stay in each other’s lives. Maybe somewhere deep inside Greg would mind that I kept an ongoing friendship with an ex-lover but I’d be surprised if he’d let that show. Even so, I wouldn’t want to do something like that to him.

So that was a consideration.

But also, I had to decide if I could live with even less from Ham than I had before.

No decision, really.

I couldn’t. I knew it. I’d known it for ages because I couldn’t even live with the little bits of him that he already gave me. I just told myself I could so I wouldn’t lose even those little bits.

And, knowing this, finally admitting it, killed me.

“I don’t think I could do that to Greg, darlin’,” I told him carefully and watched his eyes flare.

“So this is it,” he stated.

That was all he gave me. An eye flare and confirmation that he got that this was it. I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“This is it,” I confirmed.

“Do me a favor,” he said, then kept talking before I could get a word in. “Don’t lose my number.”

That knife pushed deeper.

“Ham—” I started.

He shook his head. “You change yours, you call me. I change mine, I’ll call you. We don’t gotta talk. But don’t break that connection, cookie.”

“I don’t think—”

“Five years, babe, through that shit your parents pulled on you. You breakin’ your wrist. Your girl gettin’ cancer. We’ve seen a lot. Don’t break that connection.”

We had seen a lot. He might not always have been there in person but he was always just a phone call away, even if he was hundreds of miles away.

I closed my eyes and looked down at the table.

“Zara, baby, look at me,” he urged and I opened my eyes and turned to him. “Don’t break our connection.”

“It was always you,” I found myself whispering, needing to get it out, give it to him so I could let it go.

I watched his chin jerk back, his face go soft, and then he closed his eyes.

He wasn’t expecting that, which also killed. He had to know. I’d given him more than one indication over five freaking years.

Maybe he was in denial. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he just didn’t want that responsibility.

Now, it didn’t matter.

“Ham, baby, look at me,” I urged. He opened his eyes and there was sadness there. “I won’t break our connection,” I promised.

The last thing I had to give, I’d give it.

For Graham Reece, I’d give anything.

Unfortunately, he didn’t want it.

“Not that man,” he said gently.

“I know,” I told him.

“Not just you, cookie, know that. I’m just not that man.”

“I know, honey.”

“Also not the man who wants to walk away from this table not knowin’ his girl is gonna be happy.”

He needed to stop.

“I’ll be happy,” I replied.

“You’re not being very convincing,” Ham returned.

“Broke ground on my house last week, Ham. It’s sweet,” I told him and watched surprise move over his features. “Great views,” I went on. “Roomy. Got a good guy who thinks the world of me.” I leaned toward him. “I need to move on, honey.” I swallowed again and felt my eyes sting before I finished. “I need to be free to find my happy.”

After I was done delivering that, Ham studied me with intense eyes for long moments that made my splintering heart start to fall apart.

Finally, he stated, “I could never give that to you, baby.”

You’re wrong. For four months, you gave me everything. Then you left and took it away, I thought.

“I know,” I said.

“Want with everything for you to find it,” he told me.

“I will, Ham.”

“Don’t settle, cookie.”

“I won’t.”

I saw his jaw clench but his eyes didn’t let mine go.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have said this over the phone. I wasn’t ready then. I hadn’t… well…” I lifted my hands, flipped them out, and then rested them on the table. “Whatever. I shouldn’t have made you come out of your way—”

Ham interrupted me. “You gave me the brush-off without me seein’ your pretty face, that would piss me off, Zara. I’d come out of my way for you any time you needed it. You know that.”

I did. It always confused me but I knew it.

“Yeah, I know that, Ham.”

“Him in your life, he fucks you over, it goes bad, it doesn’t and you still need me, you’ll have my number and that always holds true.”

Really, he had to stop.

“Okay, Ham.”

“It’ll suck, walkin’ away from you.”

I looked at the table.

“But, one thing I always wanted is for you to be happy,” he continued.

I looked at him.

“You mean the world to me, cookie,” he finished.

So why? my thoughts screamed.

“You, too, darlin’,” I replied.

He reached a hand across the table and wrapped it around mine.

We held on tight as we held each other’s eyes.

Then we let go when Trudy came with a refill of my drink.

Half an hour later…

“Go,” Ham ordered.

We were standing on the boardwalk outside The Mark. My shop was a ways down the boardwalk, same side.

Now was the time.

This was truly it.

And I didn’t want to go.

Tears flooded my eyes.

“Ham, I—”

“Zara, go,” he demanded.

I pressed my lips together.

Suddenly, his hand shot up and curled around the side of my neck. His head came down and his lips were crushing mine.

I opened them.

His tongue darted inside.

I lifted a hand to curl it around his wrist at my neck, arched into him, and melted into his kiss, committing the smell, feel, and taste of him to memory.

And Ham let me, kissing me hard, wet, and long. A great kiss. A sad kiss. A kiss not filled with promise of good things to come, a kiss filled with the bitter knowledge of good-bye.

We took from each other until we both tasted my tears.

Just as suddenly, his hand and mouth were gone and he’d taken half a step away.

It felt like miles.

“Go.” His voice was jagged.

He didn’t want to lose me.

Why? my thoughts screamed.

“Bye, Ham,” I whispered.

He jerked up his chin.

I turned away, concentrating on walking down the boardwalk to my shop, ignoring anyone who might be around, and trying to ignore the feel of Ham’s eyes burning holes into my back.

I didn’t get relief until I turned to my shop, unlocked the door, and pushed inside.

No. The truth was, I didn’t get relief at all, not that day, that week, that year, or ever.

Because I’d walked away from the love of my life.

And he let me.

Ax Murderer

Three years later…

I sat cross-legged on my couch, pressed the tiny arrow on the screen of my phone, and put it to my ear.

Again.

“Zara? I, uh… signed the papers. Took them to George. It’s, uh… done. I, well, uh… just wanted you to know. Okay? I just…” Long pause, then, quieter, “Wanted you to know. I’ll, uh… I guess I’ll, um… see you around.”