Twelve

River

Judson stops with our hands partially raised toward his lips. His body is tight with tension. He looks like he's seen a ghost.

"What's wrong?" I ask. When he doesn't answer, I follow his gaze across the street to see a man selling hot dogs at one of the vendor carts. But Judson doesn't look hungry; he looks terrified.

It takes me a second to realize the guy looks eerily similar to Ian. My heart jumps into my throat, and it's suddenly hard to swallow. Hard to breathe.

I close my eyes and focus on Judson's hand in mine. Focus on the heat of the sun I can feel on my skin. Focus on the smell of the restaurant we just walked out of.

We're not trapped in Ian's house. We're free. Judson killed him. He can't hurt us anymore.

"Judson, it's not him."

Judson has my hand in a death grip. "It looks like him."

"I know. But it's not him. Ian's dead, remember?"

"Yeah." His voice is strangled. "Yeah, I know."

I pull on his hand, tugging him toward the curb where he parked his Jeep. "Let's go. It's getting dark, and I want to get home."

We've still got at least another two hours of sunlight left, but my need does the trick. Judson shakes his head and follows me across the street. He doesn't let go of my hand until we have to climb in the car.

"You okay?" I ask as he starts the engine.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He pulls out onto the street, and I'm debating on whether or not to take his hand again when he reaches over and puts his on my thigh.

"I'm glad we're going back to your place," he says, his voice back to that carefree way it always sounds when he's trying not to show he's upset about something. "I've pretty much been thinking about you nonstop since the last time I was inside you."

Even though his words have heat flooding my veins, I try to push it down. We've had sex more than once since the time he sucked me off on the sofa after talking about Ian, and it's been fine. Almost enough to make me start to think I'd been mistaken about him using sex to cope with everything. But looking at him now, I know I wasn't wrong. He's scared; seeing that man who resembled Ian brought things back for both of us, but it was obviously worse for him.

I wait until we're in my apartment before bringing it up. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" he asks, closing and locking the door behind us. "Usually this doesn't require too many words."

"I'm talking about the guy you saw on the street who looked like Ian."

Judson's face clouds over for a second before he clears it. "There's nothing to talk about."

"But—"

He reaches out and pulls me close. "I'd really rather not talk anyway. I have other things I want to do with my mouth."

It's tempting to just let him. My body's definitely crying out for it, and from how close Judson's pressed against me, I know he can feel it too.

But I can't let this happen again. I can't force him to talk if he doesn't want to, but I can stop him from using this as some kind of crutch.

"We don't need to do this," I say, trying to make my voice firm to cover up the lust in it. "You're upset, and we should wait."

"What?" He pulls away enough to look down at me. "I'm not upset."

"You are. And I don't want to do this when you're upset."

"You aren't serious, are you?" Anger inches into his tone. "I'm a grown man; I don't need anyone telling me how I feel."

"I think it was a little obvious based on your reaction when you looked at the guy that you were bothered."

His jaw works, and the anger spreads to his eyes, darkening them. "I'm glad therapy is helping you get in touch with your feelings, but don't try to use that stuff on me."

"What stuff?" I demand. "I'm pointing something out that anyone in the world could see. You just don't want to admit that Ian is still a problem for you."

"That's because he's not."

"He is. Because every time you want to fuck me, it's because you're upset about something he did. And I don't want to base a relationship on that."

He jerks back as if I hit him. "That's a goddamn lie. I want you all the time, not just when I'm upset."

"Then why can't we talk instead of having sex?"

"Because I don't want to talk," he snaps. "I'm sorry if you're still bothered by what Ian did to us, but I'm not. So stop putting your shit on me."

Maybe I should be pissed at the way he's acting, but all I feel is pity. He's obviously still struggling so much with what happened, but he won't let himself feel any of it. He's stuck in this stage of denial that nearly breaks my heart to witness.

As much as I want to help him, I know I can't. Until he realizes what he's doing on his own, no one's going to be able to help him.

"I think you should go," I say.

His eyes widen. "You want me to leave?"

"Yes." It hurts to say the one word, but I know I'm making the right decision. I've spent a really long time coming to terms with what Ian did to us, and right now, I have to step back from Judson so I don't get caught up in that web again. I love him, probably more than anything in the world, but I'm not going back to that.

"You're serious?" Judson asks, disbelief in his voice.

I nod once because I don't trust myself to speak again.

He shakes his head and turns for the door, walking out of my life for the second time.