34 - Earthquake

Christ almighty.

Jon lay at Cassidy’s side, utterly wrung out and unable to move. 

When the sex was this good, the post-orgasmic wake often carried a hum of satisfaction with it – a buzz comparable to the relaxing tingle that followed a massage.  He didn’t experience it every time, but Jon had felt it often enough to know that the current buzz radiating from the center of his chest wasn’t that. 

This was vastly different than a simple “afterglow” that left his fingers and toes sizzling.  It was the very thing that had been missing from him for so long that he’d begun to dread its return. 

The figurative vault that had held his emotions more securely than Fort Knox for the past two years was rumbling with the aftershock of an emotional earthquake. 

He’d felt the warning tremors during his earlier talk with Cassidy but had pushed them aside, not realizing what they were.  The profound intimacy they had just shared, though, had easily kicked a seven on the Richter scale and had ripped the vault door off its hinges, encouraging his deeply stifled emotions to run rampant.

All of them.

At once.

To a man who had felt nothing for so long, it was overwhelming to feel anything.  To feel sorrow, joy, regret, hope, fear, happiness and every other color of the emotional rainbow of emotions at the same time was excruciatingly painful and was why Jon had been afraid to find out he still had feelings.  Like a broken bone that was set to heal correctly, his heart and mind were brutally contorting in an effort to restore themselves – and it hurt like a bitch. 

His chest throbbed.  An agonizing knot the size of his fist pulsed a violent cadence behind his sternum, and it ached so plaintively that the rest of his body had no choice but to yield to the same bitter ache.

He was loosely considering that medical attention might be required to get through this.

There was pain at losing his best friend.  There was grief that he’d been unable to do anything about it.  There was sorrow that multiple years of his life were nothing but a void.  There was agony in simply acknowledging those feelings.

Then there was the opposite end of the spectrum.

Jon covertly turned his head just enough to get a glimpse of Cassidy’s face.  Her eyes were peacefully closed, her features were relaxed, she once again radiated her personal brand of sunshine, and…

His heart violently clutched.

Don’t fucking say it, don’t even fucking think it.  You’ve known her for eleven goddamn days.  You are not in love with her.

He enjoyed her company both in and out of bed, liked how she made him feel and thought he might be interested in extending it beyond two weeks.  But he wasn’t in love with her.  He wasn’t.  It was just the damn emotions messing with his head.  A man who had been confined in emotional purgatory could easily mistake mild affection for eternal love.

So what that he’d connected so intimately with her, caring more about her own pleasure than his?  That the catalyst for the great emotion spree was the trust she’d placed in him?  Who cared that she was the only fucking thing he cared about at this moment in time?

He did not love her.  He couldn’t.

“Bathroom?” he grunted, sliding away from her to escape before he did something colossally stupid.

Jon needed a minute alone to get this shit beaten back into submission and he was pathetically grateful when her languid hand gestured toward a door at the back of the cabin. 

“Across the bridge and through the kitchenette.”

Cassidy rolled to her side with a stifled sigh and openly stared at his bare, sculpted butt as he trekked toward what she referred to as the “outhouse”.  Something noteworthy had happened in this bed today.  Later, she might deny it with an unparalleled vehemence, but right now – until he returned – she was going to indulge herself in sheer fantasy.

When he’d asked her to trust him, she had been incredibly hesitant.  Cassidy wasn’t a fan of setting herself up for disappointment and didn’t ordinarily grant anyone enough power for it to happen.  He, however, had convinced her to take the risk and she was here to say that it had been worth that risk.

Jon hadn’t disappointed her.  Far from it.  The Dorothy shoes had carved his initials in her heart, but that was only on the surrounding armor.  The man and his chivalry had actually wormed their way through a chink in that armor to touch her in a way few others had.

It was enough to push against her ingrained morality and make her seriously reconsider his mistress proposition.

You are not gonna be that man’s mistress.

She might. 

There wasn’t anyone in her life that she felt accountable toward.  Calliope was grown, MeMaw was gone and Libby had to take care of herself sometime.  Cassidy was more or less on her own and that allowed her a great deal of flexibility to accommodate his schedule.  It would also allow her to accommodate a professional relationship with him.

If her own life weren’t already so blasted complicated.

You wouldn’t be satisfied as a mistress.  After what just happened, you’d want more.

More was never going to happen.  He was married.  Period.  That wasn’t going to change simply because he…

Because he what?  Made you feel special?

Yes.  Because he’d made her feel special in a way that no one had in a very, very, very long time.  Twenty-six years, to be exact, because the last time she’d allowed a man to affect her that way, he’d fathered her baby.

Derek wasn’t technically a man, though.  He was only a seventeen year old boy at the time and, like a boy, hadn’t wanted to live up to his responsibilities when he’d found out Cassidy was pregnant.  Rather than owning up to his actions, the popular high school quarterback had called her a liar.  He pointed out to his friends, and anyone else who would listen, that he could have any girl in school.  Why would he start anything with a mousy Bible thumper?

That had resonated as the truth with most folks in Moreland.  With long, dishwater blonde hair, outdated clothes and no makeup to speak of, she hadn’t exactly been a teenage beauty queen.  She may not have looked as nice as the other girls, but had shared one important characteristic with them – she’d wanted a boy to make her feel special.

Thank God her grandmother had been there for her and believed her.  MeMaw had also been the one who told Cassidy, “I know you’re still tryin’ to figure all this stuff out, but I’m here to tell ya special ain’t the same as love, girl.  Don’t be gettin’ the two confused, or you’ll find yourself in another world of hurt, just like this one.”

That had been a painful lesson, but one that Cassidy had learned well.

See?  There ya go.  Feelin’ special hasn’t ever gotten you anything but abandonment.  That what you’re lookin’ for from Jon?

The difference was that Jon wasn’t a teenage boy, he was a grown man.  The two of them went to great lengths to ensure there weren’t misunderstandings between them, particularly regarding intentions.  He had plainly indicated an interest in expanding their relationship.  Hours later, he had made her feel… special.  There was no reason to believe the two weren’t connected.

She’d neither said – or thought – anything about love and, if he made another request to extend their relationship, she wouldn’t avoid the topic.  Cassidy didn’t want to deny him when she wanted the same thing and, as he was a grown man, she was a grown woman who understood the situation.  There would be no expectations beyond anything he willingly chose to provide, they would keep their relationship free of misunderstandings and she would enjoy the ride as long as circumstances permitted.

If he asks again.

The back door opened and the man in her thoughts stepped into the cabin and bee-lined for his jeans, scooping them off the floor and putting one leg through.

“Thank you for sharing your family secret with me.”  The second leg went in and he fastened the denim at his waist before zipping up and buckling his belt.  “I think if we’re going to be productive at the studio tomorrow, we should run through a couple of songs.  Do you mind if we go back to the hotel and do that?”

“Of course not,” she agreed with an easy smile, sitting up and swinging her legs from the bed as her mind started to toy with her.

Still makin’ ya feel special?

Considering that he hadn’t actually looked at her since his return, and he was moving toward fully dressed faster than she’d ever seen him, no.  He wasn’t particularly making her feel special.  He was actually making her feel as though something wasn’t quite right.

Slipping into her bra and panties, she located the rest of her clothes and casually inquired, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”  He still found a reason not to look at her, now sitting to focus on his shoelaces.  “You know how it is after we fuck.  I got my rocks off and now I’m ready to work.”

Her fingers stuttered over her zipper and Cassidy decided to abandon it in favor of her t-shirt.

Fuck?  Rocks off?

There had been more than one occasion that would be perfectly described by those descriptions, and they’d all occurred that first night.  Even at that, he’d never chosen to purposely be crude.  Jon had always used “sex” to describe what they did, and it had never bothered her.  Not once.

In the wake of her self-indulgent thoughts, his vulgarity bothered her.  Cassidy didn’t have such delusions of grandeur to believe they’d just made love, but it hadn’t been an impersonal exchange of bodily fluid, either.

Properly covered by her shirt, she sidled by him toward the back door.  “I’m goin’ to the ladies’ room,” she said quietly, forcing congeniality and a friendly smile before she stepped barefoot onto the bridge.

Jon leaned his forearms heavily on his thighs and watched her pull the door closed behind her, silently swearing as she did.  He didn’t like the vibe between them right now.

You’re the one who set that vibe, not her.

He’d done it on purpose, trying to remind himself of the real situation here.   He’d actually spent five minutes in the bathroom telling himself on a continuous loop that she was just a disposable fuck – a willing woman to shoot a load into – even though he’d never thought of her that way. 

It was borne of sheer desperation to distance himself from the emotions she stirred in him.  His writer’s block had re-manifested and stole his ability to find the right words or come up with an approach that wasn’t cold and cruel, so he’d blundered forward with it and callously led her to believe that she meant nothing to him.

It had been a verbal slap to her face and she’d responded as such.  The hurt in her eyes was fleeting, but it had lasted long enough to make him feel like a royal dickwad.  Long enough that he forcibly fought the urge to pull her into his arms and apologize.

Standing, he pulled the brim of his hat down low on his nose and tucked sunglasses in the neckline of his shirt.

You need to handle your business and stop being a mental fucktard.

He did need to handle his business, he thought and opened the cabin’s front door to go sit by the fire pit.  Without a motherfucking doubt, he needed to handle it and the first order of business was scourging the emotion that had been lying dormant the longest.

When he got as far as the patio chairs, Jon withdrew his phone and sat in the one furthest from the cabin.  Crossing his legs with a sense of impending doom, he swiped his finger across the screen to search for contact information that hadn’t been used in a long time.  It might not even be valid anymore, but he was going to give it a motherfucking shot and take Cassidy’s advice to wish Richie well.

Maybe if he could release those festering emotions, he’d be better equipped to handle the others.

[5:34 PM]JON: Hope all is well with you and yours.

There.  Quick and painless, he’d done it and, strangely enough, felt as though a small burden had been lifted from his shoulders.  It wasn’t a lot but it was noticeable.  The lines didn't feel as definitively carved between his eyebrows and his neck muscles were no longer cast in granite, just hard-packed sand.

Jon would take whatever relief there was and be grateful for it and the Confederate fortune cookie that had prompted him.  Although she probably would be more interested in kneeing him in the balls than accepting that gratitude.

You can apologize when she comes out.

Since he was texting, he flicked his thumb upward to find Dave’s number.

[5:34 PM]JON:  Busy tomorrow?  If not, come to Nashville with Ob.  Could use your help in the studio.

One more, this time to Obie.

[5:35 PM]JON:  Everything still set for tmrw @Blackbird?

By the time he’d tapped the send button, there was an incoming response to one of the other messages.   Jon would bet it was from David.

He was wrong.

[5:36 PM]RICHIE: Outstanding!  Peace and blessings, brother.

And that, as they said, was that.  Jon had done his part and received indication that Richie was just being Richie and not a vindictive shit.  It was time to move on.

[5:37 PM]DAVE:  Sure y not?  Any new vampire bites?

Coincidentally enough, he’d left one behind less than an hour ago.  That wasn’t something he wasn’t going to share, although David mind find other recent happenings of interest.

[5:37 PM]JON:  Nunya damn biz.  Just texted Rich.

[5:37 PM]DAVE:  Y?

Jon deliberated that for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to provide full disclosure or not.

He’s watched you suffer, don’t you think he’d like to know you’re trying not to?

[5:38 PM]JON:  Cass suggested I wish him well & move on.

[5:38 PM]DAVE:  AND?!?

[5:39 PM]JON: I did & I’m going to.

[5:40 PM]DAVE: Telling u now Ima kiss that girl when I c her. With tongue.

The pang of jealousy wasn’t particularly pleasant, but it wasn’t as bad as earlier.  He didn’t like feeling so raw and was going to have to fight harder against it.  Obie’s reply chimed in with a welcome distraction and Jon briefly scanned it before shooting another message to David.

[5:41 PM]JON: Ob just msg me.  Noon @Blackbird studios.

[5:41 PM]DAVE:  WTF? U threaten me 4 saying Dixie & no comment on tongue?

The cabin door opened, and a quick glance confirmed that Cassidy had just exited and was heading toward him.  Ruby heels clicked against the flagstone as Jon tapped out one final non-responsive response to his friend.

[5:42 PM]JON: C U tmrw.

“Ready to go?” she inquired cheerfully.

He stood, taking a good look into her face and found that she wasn’t as cheery as she wanted him to believe.  Hell, she looked about as cheery as when they’d been out here earlier.  That whole damn sexual encounter had been about nothing more than sweeping the clouds from her sunshine, and it had worked – up until he’d shoved them back in her face.

Fuck you and your emotional intolerance.  You don’t get to leave her that way.  She doesn’t deserve it.

“I was kind of an asshole a few minutes ago,” he sighed, pushing the phone and his hands into his pockets.  “It had nothing to do with you, and I apologize.  Forgive me?”

“Ain’t nothin’ to forgive.”  The right corner of her mouth kicked up in a smile.  “You fuck me so you can write music.  That’s been the agreement all along, and there ain’t no shame in callin’ it like it is.”

“Cassidy,” he called after the woman who hadn’t slowed her steps and was now sauntering down the path to leave him standing there.  She could move faster in heels than most people did in running shoes, and Jon had to jog a few steps to catch up with her.  “Cassidy.”

Her sassy strides didn’t slow nor did her head turn, but she did finally respond.  “Yeah, baby doll?”

She was doing her damnedest to keep things normal between them and, for the most part, was doing an admirable job.  If he didn’t have lingering guilt, he might have thought nothing was wrong.  As it was, he felt the need to take back the words he’d hurled because of frustration with himself.

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“Not worth quibblin’ over,” she amiably informed him over her shoulder.  “Now watch for snakes.  They come out when the sun starts goin’ down.”

Christ almighty.