Free Shut Out (Just This Once #2) by Cee Smith

money.”
    “Why did you break up with her after your father died? It seemed like an awful time to dump someone.”
    “Things were sour between us long before my father died, and after his heart attack, I knew it was the right thing. But I think the final straw was when she started saying things like ‘now that he’s finally dead’?”
    “Oh my god, did she actually use those words?” I felt my face contort, displaying every horrific reaction imaginable to someone actually saying that to a grieving child.
    “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. Needless to say, she had to go. It didn’t hurt that my father didn’t like her anyway. I couldn’t show up to his funeral with her on my arm. I’d never forgive myself.”
    “God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry. You’ve really had a rough couple months.”
    “You’re telling me. Honestly, Blaire, I wasn’t lying when I said spending time with you was the best thing that’d happened to me in a long time. After all this…I felt like myself again.”
    “I know, but Joel, what happened between us can’t happen again. You do understand, don’t you? This is hard for me, too. I haven’t had someone in a really long time and you were…you were just what I needed, but its just bad timing.”
    “I understand.” His eyebrows were downcast, staring into the peppers and steak still lingering on his plate. I felt like I’d broken his heart. It was much easier to cut him off when he was still in my house and I was spitting angry and just the sight of his face made me see red, but without the anger, all I felt was an overwhelming sadness. I knew without a doubt that he did understand and this would be the last time I spent with Joel. Perhaps forever.
    It took every bit of effort to continue moving fork to mouth, chewing through the empty pit in my stomach that seemed to be pulling everything into its orbit. My chest felt bottomless, like my heart was incinerating in slow motion so I could feel every cell burn until there was nothing left.
    “I really am sorry, Joel. I wish things could be different,” I said as we exited the restaurant. He moved closer and I held out my arms to him, opening to receive him for the last time. I knew he needed to hold me at that moment, as much as I needed to hold him. Just one last time.
    “Me too.”
    ***
    After my lunch with Joel and our obvious stalemate, I couldn’t help but be surprised by the box I found on my doorstep after work. I thought we were past this, but apparently we weren’t, because there it sat—large enough to be seen from the driveway. I rolled my eyes as I pulled into the garage. It was starting to become a rare occurrence that I didn’t have something waiting for me from Joel. Telegrams, drive-bys, phone calls, videos—it was overwhelming. How was I supposed to get over the time we spent together if every day he was reminding me of what I was missing? Didn’t he know how hard this was for me? Maybe not. I tried hard not to show my vulnerable side, not when it came to this. I had to be strong to withstand his charms. And every day it was becoming harder and harder. Some days I got so far as dialing his number before I remembered that I couldn’t call him. It would send the wrong message, and it wasn’t a mistake I could afford to make.
    I took the box inside, going straight to my office for a pair of scissors. The box was ordinary—except where you’d usually find an address, there was nothing, just clear tape. Pressing the scissors into the crease of the box, I watched the tape break away, unfolding the top flaps of the box to reveal white tissue paper. I unwrapped the paper and peered in. The surprise that greeted me wasn’t one I was familiar with, nor was it welcomed. The white tissue paper was stained red as if something bloody had been put in the box and shaken.
    Obviously with the amount of TV I’d watched and with the line of work I was in, I knew not to touch anything else, in the event that the