Daniel rested his head on Jack’s thigh, stroking the dark hair that decorated his skin. “I should go,” he said with a sigh. “See Jen.”
“I know.” Jack’s voice conveyed nothing as one hand moved through Daniel’s hair and the other curled into the leather seat, his nails biting into the fabric.
“I’ll come by later?”
“Call.” Jack managed a smile as Daniel got to his feet. Feeling the awkwardness of the silence that filled the room, he continued. “Not that I don’t want you to come by, but Pacey might call with the plans for Andie’s funeral. So...call first.”
“Of course.” Daniel waited as Jack stood up and pulled his robe closed. “If there’s anything I can do...”
“Just...” Jack stroked his cheek before leaning in and kissing him softly, echoes of emotion swirling in the gentle gesture. “Just call first.”
He watched Daniel walk away, no longer seeing him once he was headed for the door. Once it clicked shut behind him, Jack walked toward the bedroom, opening the door slowly. Inside, the room was still dark, still smelling of frustration and need.
Jen sat on the end of the bed staring over his shoulder. “Is he gone?”
“Jen...”
She refused to look at him, refused to do anything. “It’s no big deal, Jack. I’ve known you were screwing my husband forever. Oh,” she held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “It’s not that he wasn’t discreet. He was always ever so careful not to mention the fact that he was fucking my best friend.”
“Which hurts worse?” The question was quiet but knowing.
Her eyes were dry and as flat as his own. “Is that what this is all about? Hurting me worse than you’re hurting?”
“Is that what you think? After all,” his words were harsh now, hateful, hurting. “You’re the shrink.”
“I am. And as the shrink, I can tell you exactly what this is about. You want reassurances that you’re not going to end up like Andie, that you’re not going to wind up with a razor in your hand, slicing open your veins in an effort to find a fucking emotion. After all, Andie had it all. Right, Jack? And you’ve got nothing.”
“I’ve got your husband.”
“And you’re welcome to him.” Jen stood up, her clothes showing no signs that she’d been skillfully undressed, that she’d let her best friend treat her like nothing more than an object.
“I hope he can fill up the void in you, Jack. Looks like he’s been doing a stellar job so far.”
She was almost past him, almost in the living room when he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Well, if he’s learning his techniques from his wife, I can’t imagine why it isn’t working. Tell me, Jen, is having sex with your clients the best way to get them to open up to you?”
“You’re not a client, Jack. You’re not much of anything to me right now.” She brushed off his grip and headed for the door. When she reached it, she turned back to face him; unable to help noticing the hard planes of his body, clearly visible even in his robe. “And I sincerely hope that whatever he does for you, he makes you feel something. Because if you keep feeling nothing, you’re going to end up exactly like Andie. And no one’s going to miss you.”
Joey knocked on the guest room door before pushing it open. Pacey lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “You made one mistake.”
“What was that?”
“When you’re drunk, you’re actually much more vitriolic.” She sat on the end of the bed, leaning against the footboard. “At least when it comes to me and Dawson.”
“It’s been a few years since I’ve had to mock you two. I’m a little out of practice.” He shrugged. “You’ve got to give me points for trying.”
“Oh, you’re a convincing enough drunk,” she admitted. “But there are a few of us who know the dark, bitter truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
“You’re hurting and angry and sad,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And you’re hiding it with jovial banter and forced bitter solitude.”
“I am, am I?”
“Yup.”
“You haven’t seen me in years, Potter.”
“But you never change.” She smiled warmly, “No matter how much you try.”
Pacey grinned as well, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Is this where I’m supposed to break down and confess my inner feelings? Tell you what walking in on Andie’s dead body did to me?”
“If you want to.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.” She slid off the bed and started for the door.
“That’s it? I don’t give you the heartfelt confession you want, so you bail on me?”
“You’ve got a full bottle of booze waiting for you, Pace. I figured you’d want to be alone.”
She was almost out of the door when she heard his quiet reply. “I don’t.”
“Dawson, Jenna and I were about to watch a movie. There’s popcorn.”
“ET?”
“No.”
“Anything by Spielberg?”
“Nope. Not even something by Mr. Brooks. I understand it might even actually be a new release.”
“They still make those?”
She smiled at him from the doorway, aware that their banter meant everything was very much still wrong. “So, you coming? Because the popcorn’s getting cold, and I’m pretty sure we’ve already missed out on the best seats in the house.”
He sat up and gave her a knowing leer. “If we sit in the back row, you think I can convince you to give me a blow-job?”
She blushed and ducked her head, even knowing that he was just reviving an old memory. “Sorry, Pace. That was a once-in-a-lifetime offer and, as I recall most vividly, you turned me down.”
He took her hand and followed her to the stairs. “Only because we weren’t alone at the time,” he reminded her with a soft chuckle. “Although it would have been worth it to see the look on Bessie’s face if I’d taken you up on it.”
“You had your chance,” she shrugged as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Just because you were sure I wouldn’t go through with it.”
“Like you’d have really gone down on me during the newest masterpiece from Disney.”
“Hey, I dated you for a year,” she reminded him. “Stranger things have happened.”
They made their way into the living room, settling on the couch not occupied by Dawson and Jenna. Joey glanced over at Pacey in the dim light of the TV screen, knowing she’d done nothing to help him. Pacey, sensing her gaze, smiled back at her, his eyes still as blue as ever, and, sadly, just as empty as they’d been that afternoon.
| Chapter Ten |
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