When morning comes, I find the bed empty. It feels early, but the bright sun is streaming in. It’s a damn trick though, because it’s cold as hell outside and will be for another month or two.
My phone says it’s almost nine. I’d called into work last night to the attendance line, letting them know I wouldn’t make it in today.
I crawl out of bed, find Jericho’s sweatpants I was wearing yesterday tangled at the bottom of the mattress with the sheets, and put them on. Then I go in search of him. I catch a glimpse of movement from outside when I check the kitchen. The sliding glass door that leads to the porch is through the dining room, that’s just beyond the kitchen. I’ve never gotten a full tour of his house, but it’s sort of maze-like. I go that way, wondering what he’s doing outside this early and in the cold.
I stop at the door and look out. He’s on the phone. My stomach does a little twist. He turns to me, almost like he could sense that I’m here. A memory flashes in my head—of the last time I caught him on the phone through a window, and the way he was different when he came back in. Obviously he was talking to Franklin then, and it’s probably who he’s talking to now. He warned me he was going to, that he had to. Even though I agree, doesn’t mean I have to like it. Franklin doesn’t deserve a thing from him. Not an explanation—nothing. But I know this isn’t for him. It’s for Jericho, for his peace of mind.
There will always be a part of me that hates that man, resents him for what he did to Jericho, but it’s not really my business. I have no control over that part of Jericho’s life. All I can do is hope he means what he says, and once he gets his words out to Franklin, he won’t have to speak to him again.
Jericho’s eyes meet mine and he gestures for me to come out but then points to something at my left. A rack with sweatshirts. I put one on and pull the sliding door open, stepping onto the cold porch. Jericho doesn’t have shoes on either. He holds his arm out, and I go to him.
His arm comes around me, hugging me while holding the phone to his ear with the other. He’s warm and smells so good. I keep my head against his chest, looking out at the large backyard that could fit so many fun things. A pool, playground, trampoline. Plenty of space for a dog to run around. A sand box.
I bet he had plans to do that… all of it. With Franklin.
He shifts his stance, and then I see the phone being lowered. Is the conversation done already?
“Yeah, I’m here,” he says, his chest vibrating slightly as he speaks. I realize that the call isn’t done. He just put it on speaker so I can listen. My heart squeezes in my chest.
Franklin’s voice is deep and emotionless when it comes through the phone speaker.
“This is just like you to act this way, and I can’t say I’m surprised, but I did expect more from you.”
I hold back my scoff. Is he serious?
I listen to Jericho’s heart beat a steady rhythm. My eyes fall closed. Being in his arms always feels so good. It feels safe.
“Honestly, I don’t care about your opinion anymore,” he says. “It was the only way you’d take me seriously.”
“Difficult to do that when you’re an emotional wreck all the time.”
I grit my teeth, wanting to throw the phone across the yard. How did Jericho deal with this for fourteen years?
“It’s unfortunate that you feel that way. There’s nothing to be done about it now.”
“Well, if you had—”
“No, you’re not putting this on me.” He takes a deep, steadying breath, his heart beating just a little faster. “Look, I didn’t call to argue, I just wanted to clear the air, but it’s obvious that nothing about you has changed and you aren’t going to—hello? Hello?”
He huffs an annoyed sound.
“He hung up.”
I look up at him, not sure what to say. Not sure how he feels. Not sure if I still need to be worried about this.
Yesterday, it was like we were in a perfect little bubble. Everything went right. But moving forward?
“Do I need to worry about him?” I ask.
Even after that conversation, even after I know that I would never deal with that, I need to hear him say it. Because Jericho did deal with that for a very long time, and even though it’s not ideal, people go back to what they know. It’s why he stayed for so long.
“Franklin? Fuck no,” he says.
I step away from him, and he looks almost upset by it.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it all just feels… fresh.”
He takes a deep breath, watching me for a moment before answering. “I can see how it would, after knowing we’ve been together so long and the breakup being new, but if you knew everything I’ve been through with him, you’d know the relationship was over long ago.” He holds up the phone. “This was nothing. I’ve dealt with more, so much worse. I don’t want that anymore.” He moves forward, taking my hand. “There’s been nothing between me and Franklin for a very long time.”