Nothing Feels Better (Better Love 3)

She was embarrassed and insistent. As if eating her out would be an inconvenience to me. As if I’d be doing it just to do her a favor. Which, that alone—the fact that she obviously doesn’t feel like she can ask something of her sexual partners—is a red flag. What else did the ex say to her? What other bullshit did he make her believe? She birthed two whole ass humans for that jerk, and he wouldn’t even make her come with his tongue.

As always, Lizzo is right. Why men great ‘til they gotta be great? The abundance of fuckheads like him in the world is why men ain’t shit.

I don’t know him. Not really. But I am a literal genius capable of drawing informed conclusions from my astute observations, and I’ve concluded that he’s an epic dumpster fire of toxic garbage.

I’m lost in thought as I round the corner into Roxanne’s room, so I don’t see the person in front of me until I’m slamming into them and knocking them on their ass.

“Arrghh,” the man yells, which makes me want to laugh because he sounds like Charlie Brown with the football, but I still immediately crouch down to help the guy back up.

“Shit, man, I’m so sorry,” I say. “Are you alright—Ralph?”

Ralph? Roxanne’s nosy as shit, meddling, grump-ass neighbor?

“Don’t just gape at him, Jesse, help him up,” Rox barks, and I spring into action. I’ve assessed that there are no broken bones and have Ralph back on his feet in a matter of minutes.

“Thanks for stopping by, Ralph,” Rox says to him. “I’ll be home next week.”

He beams at her, which makes me choke on my own spit because Ralph doesn’t smile unless he’s weeding his flower beds or pruning his begonias, and then he nods at me before shuffling out the door. I stare at her, and she fights off a smirk.

“What?” she questions, feigning innocence.

“Roxanne Gunther, why was Ralph Lowman, the Midwest’s grumpiest widower, visiting you?” I prop my hands on my hips. “You guys aren’t friends.”

She shrugs and walks toward the small table on the other side of the room. “Don’t have to like him to screw him, Jesse.”

“Roxanne!” I bark out a loud laugh. “Isn’t he like ten years younger than you?”

“Watch yourself, boy,” she scolds, and I throw my palms up.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right.” I stride over to the table and take a seat across from her, then angle the chair so I can see the door. “How long have you guys been....” I raise my eyebrows, and she mirrors the gesture, but she stays quiet. She’s not gonna tell me shit, so I chuckle and change the subject.

“You’re out next week?”

“I am,” she says excitedly. “I’ve passed physical therapy with flying colors, and they now trust that I can take care of myself and my new hip.”

“Congrats! We should have a Euchre night to celebrate. V misses you.”

“I miss that sweet girl too,” Roxanne says with a smile. “We’ll definitely have to plan something.”

“And maybe we can invite Ralph.” I punctuate the suggestion with a wink, but she blatantly ignores me, which just makes me laugh more.

“Don’t you have a class today? Finals coming up?” she deflects.

“Yeah, but I aced the midterm, so I can get a thirty percent on the final and still pass the class with an A,” I brag. “Now my Wednesday afternoons are wide open.”

“How much studying time did you miss out on so you could figure that out?”

She hits me with the look. The same one my dad would give me any time I hyper-focused on one task just so I could procrastinate another. I just grin because I’m immune to that look now.

“Work smarter, not harder, Rox.”

“You have the time management skills of a half-eaten pickle.”

“Hmm. Weirdly, I want to take that as a compliment. I love pickles.”

She snickers and pulls out two decks of cards. She shuffles and deals, and I settle in for a riveting game of Gin Rummy.

“I thought you were coming here to see me,” Roxanne says about half an hour later, causing me to cock my head in question.

“Huh? I am here to see you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jesse,” she chides. “You can’t go two minutes without looking at the door. I’m no fool.”

I smile shyly, but she scowls.

“Jocelyn is not on this wing today. She came in to say hello, and she will come in to say goodbye, but that’s it. So, unless you’re planning to stay until after dinner, you won’t see her.” Briefly I consider wandering the halls until I find her, but Rox shoots that down before it’s a completely formed thought. “She is working, Jesse. You’re not going to go hunt her down and get her in trouble while she’s working.”

My shoulders slump like a scolded child, and my ears start to burn as Roxanne looks me over with a harsh, speculative expression on her face.

“It’s not my business,” she begins, and I sit up straight. Whenever Rox starts with it’s not my business, she usually follows it with something snarky, wise, and brutal. “And I’m not gonna ask you about it, but so help me, Jesse Hernandez, you better not fuck this up.”

My jaw drops. “I’m not fucking anything up,” I defend, and she shakes her head.

“You and I both know that there’s not much in life you take seriously, Jesse. It’s one of the reasons I love you. You don’t take many things seriously at all, but you mind my words, that woman better be one of ‘em.”

I’m rendered speechless at the authority in her tone. Authority and love, for me and, if I’m not wrong, for Jocelyn.

“I’ve got it under control, Rox,” I say with a forced smile. We stare at each other for what feels like an hour, then she nods and looks back to her cards. We don’t talk about it again.

It’smidafternoon when I say goodbye to Roxanne. I decide against finding Jocelyn. Rox is right. Joss is working, and I don’t want to cause problems.

I’m in my head the whole walk to the parking lot, only coming out of my thoughts when I notice red plastic glittering all over the ground behind my car. What the hell?

My taillight has been busted out. Both of my taillights have been busted, but the bumper and the trunk seem fine. If this was an accident done by another car, there’d most likely be damage to the whole back end.

I spin in a slow circle, scanning the area. A prickle of unease skirts my spine, a feeling I haven’t experienced for several months. I don’t see anyone watching me. No suspicious cars. Nothing to get all paranoid about, but I still have to fight the urge to brush my fingers over the cool metal in my pocket.

Harvest View isn’t in a rough neighborhood, but kids are dumb everywhere. I look back at my two busted taillights. This looks like something a dumb, bored kid would do. I should know. I was one once. There’s nothing I can do about the taillights now. I’ll have to get them fixed this weekend.

Resigned, I climb into my car and crank it, then turn on the playlist I made Jocelyn. I’ve been jamming out to it since I gave it to her. Bailey has a playlist for almost everything, and I never really got it until now. I put some serious thought in to this mix, and it fuckin’ slaps. I crank “Summer on You” by PRETTYMUCH and pull out of the parking lot, but I’m not even to the first chorus before red and blue lights flash in my rearview.

Immediately I check my dash display, but I’m not speeding.