Jon picked up the pair of jeans he'd worn the day he arrived and pulled them back on while he waited on me to wash the rest of his laundry. I didn't bother getting dressed, I preferred to air-dry after my showers anyhow. We weren't going anywhere for a few hours. I'd just lounge in my towel until later. I dragged his bag to the laundry room and emptied it on the floor. He didn't have much, just a few pair of jeans and tanks and underwear that needed to be washed along with his socks and knee pads he wore in the ring. I threw them all in the wash with a cup of detergent and closed the lid. I looked around for a certain crate I'd shoved in my laundry room upon moving into my apartment and dug around in it until I unearthed two vinyl packages containing thick black curtains. I shoved the crate back on its shelf and walked into the living room where Jon had made himself at home with a cup of coffee. I dropped the two packages by him and took a seat.

"What's this?" he asked. He took a long drink of his black coffee and picked up one of the packages.

"Curtains," I laughed, "I'm just too short to put them up. The rods are installed already. I just… Can't reach them, they're too high up."

"You're perfect. Now I can finally sleep when I'm home," he put his cup down and ripped the packages at their seams cardboard falling out as he unfolded the curtains. I couldn't help but smile at him. He was so happy with the littlest things in life, like coffee and curtains to block out the sun so he could sleep when he was off; bike rides in the early morning, Pantera on the radio, TV shows about Bigfoot… He was an easy man to please. I dreaded him leaving me so much. I was beginning to understand why wives and girlfriends of these guys didn't want to work. If their guys were half as wonderful as mine, well, I'd wanna hit the road too, or at least be home when he was. Maybe Jon was right.

"I keep thinking about what you said about my job," I said, breaking our silence. Jon polished off his cup of coffee and sat it down on the table next to him.

"About quitting?" he asked. He looked up at me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his blue eyes shining. I normally wasn't into guys with blue eyes, but there was just something about his that were so captivating. He made me lose my train of thought to form any type of response I had sitting at the tip of my tongue. Whatever it was, it was gone now.

"Mich," Jon touched my leg gently.

I jerked slightly at his touch, startled. "Sorry, I zoned out. Yeah. About quitting," I replied.

"And?" he coaxed.

"I'm thinking maybe I could step down. Ya know, not have so much stress and responsibility, but still be able to work. Give them limited days I can work, like Friday through Sunday, and I could be home for you on Wednesdays and Thursdays."

"Or you could just quit and come out on the road with me. That would be cool too," Jon said.

'Come out on the road? Live out of suitcases and hotel rooms and rental cars? Four flights a week, in and out of arenas and sleeping in hotels?' I wasn't sure the gypsy life was for me, but for him, I'd give anything a shot. He was really pushing the issue heavily. He must have really, really wanted me there. Maybe I made him feel the way he made me feel, safe and secure; wanted… Needed. I knew enough about him that he'd never really felt wanted or needed in his life. His father left when he was only two, leaving him, his sister, and his mom alone with no income. They moved into public housing and his mom started slinging dope to make ends meet. When that wasn't enough, she started selling herself on the street corner. He told me a story once about the year he was in fourth grade. Every day on his way home, he had to pass his mom on the street corner and every single day, she'd yell at him and embarrass him in front of his friends. He never made another friend until he was sixteen when he met the guy who wound up training him, Cody Hawk. After that, he made a few good friends on the circuit, most of whom he kept in contact with still, but he could count his real friends on one hand. He hadn't spoken to his mother in nearly ten years. If I could be that one person in his life to make him feel important, then I'd do anything in my power to keep him happy.

I took a deep breath and let it out.

"Okay. I need two weeks," I told him.

Instantly his eyes lit up and he smiled wider than I'd ever seen him smile before. He was like a kid on Christmas.

"Really?" he asked.

I smiled and caressed his cheek softly. "Really."

Jon leaned over and kissed me deeply, his large hands on either side of my face, his soft scruff brushing against my chin as his lips crushed mine. He pulled away and pressed his forehead to mine, rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs.

"You really make me feel good, Mich," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. I kissed the tip of his nose and smiled at him softly.

"I'm glad. You do the same for me. I always want you to feel good, Jon. Always. I… I care about you a lot," I replied.

There. That was good enough for now. He had no idea how hard it was to swallow those words again and again. It was like I had to chew up glass and swallow it down every single time the words 'I love you' danced at the tip of my tongue. They were like a prisoner, trapped, clawing and screaming, trying to fight their way out of my mouth and into his ears.

"I care about you too. I wouldn't have stayed after last night if I didn't. That's the honest truth. I love everything about you. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, the way you laugh, how you touch me, how you want to do shit for me and make me feel like a real man, like… It's fucking great. No woman has ever treated me like I was a decent man before. Not one; and you do. You make me feel like I'm the best fucking boyfriend in the world. And I'm trying really hard. You take me like I am. You don't try to change shit about me. I like that."

I wouldn't change anything about Jon for the world. He wasn't my normal type, that was for sure, but he really was trying and that was all I could ask for. He made me feel beautiful, truly beautiful. The way he touched me was so gentle, like he was afraid to break me. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world, even with no makeup and my glasses on. And the way he worshipped my body when we had sex was unbelievable. I never knew I could feel that way. Just thinking about it made me wet. I shifted on the couch, crossing my legs, trying to will the feeling away. It wasn't that easy, unfortunately, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"What are you doing? You're all squirmy," Jon asked.

He had, at some point, gotten up and retrieved the curtain rods from my bedroom and began sliding the curtains onto the rods. I groaned and shifted again. He slid the rod into the last curtain slowly while he stared at me. How the hell could putting up curtains be so damned sexual? Fuck! I exhaled a deep breath and got up from the couch quickly, tripping over Jon's boots as I made my way to the laundry closet to throw his things in the dryer. I needed a distraction. Why couldn't I shake this feeling? And seriously, why did him stringing up curtains have to be so damn sexual? I shook my head and tossed all of the clothes into the dryer and started it. Maybe a cold shower would help, but he would surely question why the hell I was showering again when we'd just gotten out not even two hours prior. Damn him, he'd been teasing me all morning, ever since I rolled out of bed and left him laying there with nothing but the sheet covering him. Then the shower and the way that body trickled and dripped all over his muscles, fuck me sideways. I whined, gently beating my head against the wall. He made me into some kind of crazy horny person just by existing. It really wasn't fair.

"Mich! Why'd you run off?" Jon pulled me back from the wall, my back to his stomach.

I couldn't help myself. I reached back and grabbed myself a handful of Jonathan Good, right through his jeans, which were literally hanging on his hips. He groaned, pressing his hips forward into my hand. I turned around to face him, not moving my hand. I wasn't letting go. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him softly, nipping softly at his bottom lip as I pulled away.

"Come on, baby. Don't be a tease," he said gruffly into my ear.

"I'm not," I assured him, rubbing gently as I unhooked his belt. The metal buckle landed with a clink on the ceramic tile floor. I yanked at the waistband on his jeans forcefully, sending a button flying across the laundry room. It bounced and rolled somewhere into the abyss of my apartment and I couldn't help but laugh.

Jon laughed with me. His laugh was intoxicating, hearty, like it came from the center of his stomach. His abs tightened visibly when he laughed, his body bouncing as the sound bellowed from his lungs. His dimples set deep in his cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He let out a deep breath as his laughter subsided and caressed my cheek before leaving a soft kiss on my lips.

"Damn it, those are my good jeans," he said.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but it would be a lie," I said. I tugged at his zipper carefully. I didn't want to send him back to work with a horror story of how his clumsy girlfriend caught his goods in his zipper while she was trying to seduce him. Besides, it would totally kill the mood for him. Jon slid his fingertips under the hem of the oversized white towel that I had long forgotten was wrapped around my body, grazing my thighs gently, sliding up slowly until his hands wrapped around my hips, gripping my ass and pulling me closer to him, our hips colliding almost a little too hard.

"Ow," I laughed, laying my forehead on his chest.

"Shit, sorry," Jon replied, rubbing my hip softly.

"No, it's okay. It happens. Keep going. We don't have a lot of time," I urged him.

His hand drifted back to my ass cheeks and he gave them a light squeeze as he dipped his head and sucked on my neck gently, nipping here and there with his teeth. I whimpered softly, raking my nails down his side.

"Now who's the tease?" I whined. I kissed the hollow of his throat, pushing my hands into his pants and pushing them down over his hips and let them fall in a heap around his feet on the floor. My eyes drifted down between the obvious growth in his boxers and his mouth. His lips made a trail down my bare shoulders and across my chest. He drove his hands further up my body and let them rest just under my breasts, his hands cupping them softly as he pulled at the corner of the towel tucked in against my body with his teeth. It fell to the floor with his pants around our feet.

"So beautiful," Jon breathed, taking the sight in front of him in.

I tried to cover myself, but Jon pulled my hands away. I surrendered; I knew there was no point in fighting it. He wanted to see everything, and no matter how much I hated my body, I was going to let him. I released a bottled breath and dropped my hands to my sides, trying to convince myself to relax. Jon trailed his fingertips lightly down my arms, leaving goose bumps in their paths.

I finished packing my bag after I helped Mich finish up my laundry. I'd helped her clean herself up too. She was dressed now, clad in black skinny jeans and a thick sweatshirt layered under a dark red leather jacket and boots; ready to take me to the airport so I could get back to work. It was drizzly and frigid outside. I worried about her driving home alone in the icy weather, but she'd be okay as long as she was careful. I didn't want to leave her. I knew I was going to miss her like crazy. Five days and I'd be back with her, though. It was almost Christmas; I wondered what gifts I should get her. Was it too soon to get her gifts? She always talked about wanting a cat. I hated cats. That was a no. Maybe she'd like a new purse or something. Chicks liked stuff like that. No, that didn't sound right. Maybe Wrestlemania tickets? Fuck, what the hell was I supposed to get her? I'd never really gotten a girl a gift with any thought behind it. I also realized I didn't know shit about what she liked. I could buy her clothes, but she bought plenty of those at work. She would be quitting soon, though. Shit. I'd ask Joe for some advice when I got to the show. He'd been in a relationship off and on for years.

I felt Mich touch my arm softly. I guess I had been zoned out, staring into my half-packed duffel bag.

"You okay?" she asked. She wrapped her arms around my waist and her head on my chest.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking. What time is it?"

"Four-thirty. Time to go. Come on," she zipped up my bag, making sure my gear was inside. I slung it over my shoulder and took her hand into mine, leading her out to the car. Her little hand was warm inside of mine, our feet crushing the slushy mess left from the ice and snow that had been falling over the last few days. She was quiet, her head was down; her free hand shielding her eyes from the frigid wind. I threw my heavy bag in her messy back seat and opened the passenger door for her. It would take my strength to open it with how hard the wind was blowing. She got in quickly and shut the door, turning the key and cranking up the heat before I could even make it around to the driver's side. I yanked it open, cracking the ice that was starting to form around the hinges. I got in the car, rubbing my hands vigorously together to try and warm them. Mich was thawing hers out by the vents of the heater, her hood still up and drawn tightly around her head so that only her face peeked out. I chuckled and leaned over, kissing her lips softly.

"You're cute as hell right now," I told her.

Mich shook her head. She never believed me.

"Yes," I said, putting the car into reverse. I backed out, turning the wheel slowly and tediously, just letting it roll out of the space gently. Once I was backed out, I switched the car into drive and slowly began rolling out of the parking lot toward the highway. The silence between us was heavy, only the blowing of the heater and the light hum of the engine filling the air. Maybe it was best if we didn't speak; what was there to say? I felt a hand touch my leg, Mich staring absently out the window. I reached down and picked it up, lifting it to my lips and placed a soft kiss on it. Mich smiled softly and looked over at me, turning her hand over to lace her fingers with mine after I placed our joined hands back on my knee. I heard her take a deep breath and she looked back out the window, lost in her own mind.

The truth about it all is that I wanted Mich on the road with me so I could watch over her. She seemed so stressed out and given her history of self-mutilation and suicide attempts, I didn't want her left alone. Granted she had her sisters and her friend Brandi checked on her daily, but I wanted to be able to watch her like a hawk at all times. I wasn't going to pressure her though, if she said she needed two weeks, I'd give her two weeks. I just wanted her safe. I loved her.

I pulled up to the airport half an hour after we left her place and paid the one-hour parking fee so we could sit and talk a while before I had to make a dash for security and the final boarding call. If I had to take a later flight, then so be it. I never slept anyhow.

"I don't want you to go," Mich said, staring at her lap. She'd since pulled her hood off and her hair was a frizzy mess, falling around her round face, obstructing my view of her. I reached over and tucked some behind her left ear so I could see her better. She looked up at me and tried to force a smile, but tears were threatening to fall from her blue eyes.

"Oh, darlin', don't cry," I brushed her cheek softly with my thumb. She nuzzled her face against my hand, her eyes closed as she tried to will the tears away. I damned the car for having a middle console and gear shift. I wanted to pull my girl to me and hold her as long as possible.

"I'm just really going to miss you. The last three days have been so great. I don't want it to end, ya know?"

"I know. But you know this is the way it's gonna be… Some weeks I won't get to come home at all. Some weeks you'll have me for one day, some you'll have me for three. This week we got lucky because we didn't have a Friday house show. But I promise baby girl, I'll always come home to you. And you can always come see me. Got it?"

Mich nodded, still holding my hand to her face. She took a deep breath and kissed my palm softly.

"I love you, Jon," she said.

It felt like the world stopped moving. The wind wasn't howling outside the car, there was no sound of airplanes taking off and landing, no cars passing over us in the parking garage overhead. Hell, I couldn't even hear myself breathe, let alone think. What the hell was I supposed to do? How did I respond? I loved her too, but I was terrified to admit that to her. The only way I knew to respond was to kiss the hell out of her, and I did. I pushed the button to release her seat belt followed by my own and I pulled her to me, across the gear shift and middle console, and crushed our mouths together, a low groan getting lost somewhere in the process.

"Not here," she mumbled against my mouth as she pecked my lips over and over. I nodded in agreement, rubbing her hip softly. I really wasn't trying to have sex with her again, though I wasn't opposed to the idea. I just didn't know how else to respond to her saying she loved me. I guess the ideal way would be for me to say it back, but I was afraid of what would happen if I did. The only person I told that I loved them these days was Joe, and he was my best friend.

"Can I walk you inside?" Mich asked.

"Please do," I responded. She moved clumsily back into her own seat and got out, opening the back door to get out my bag as I shut off the engine. I locked her car up and took my bag from her, kissing her forehead softly. She placed her hand in mine and we walked together into the airport. I checked myself in and dropped off my bag, a process that had become routine in the last few weeks since my debut on-screen. I pulled Mich down the lobby toward security. I had five minutes before my first boarding call would come, which meant half an hour until takeoff. It was time to say goodbye.

'Man up, Jon.'

"So this is it," she said.

I nodded solemnly. Damn, this sucked. I licked my lips and drew in a deep breath.

'Just say it,' I told myself.

"Yeah. I'm gonna miss you, darlin'. Drive safe okay?" I tucked her hair behind her ears and kissed her forehead.

"I will. I'm gonna miss you too. But I'll see you on Wednesday, right?" Mich asked. I nodded again.

"I better go," I said as my boarding call came over the loudspeaker. Mich pulled away from me slowly.

"So…I'll see you later," she said.

"Wednesday," I replied, finally letting her go. I started toward the security line and stopped to turn and face her, "Mich?"

The world stopped again as she turned on her heels to look at me, this time the only thing I could hear was my heart pounding out of my chest, the sound of my blood rushing in my ears, exhaling through my nose slowly. I felt like I was going to be sick, I had never been this nervous to speak in my life.

"What is it baby?" she asked.

'Don't be a fucking pussy, Jon. Say it, god damn it, say it!'

"I love you."

"Jon! Hey bro!" one third of my partners ran up behind me at the loading gate for my flight. What the hell was Colby doing in Dallas?

"The hell are you doing here?" I asked him.

"Connection. Here, you left this in the john, I found it. " he handed my phone to me. I didn't remember laying it down when I took a piss before I came to get on the plane, but I guessed I had. I shoved it in my pocket and thanked him.

We boarded our flight and I pulled my phone out of my pocket to text Mich before we took off. She'd already texted me.

'I miss you already.'

'I miss you too. Wednesday.'

'Wednesday.'

"Texting Mich?" Colby asked.

"Yup," I replied.

"How is she?" he asked.

'Why the hell do you care?' I thought, shooting him a look. Colby just blinked at me, his glasses on, his half-blonde hair pulled up into a hat. I doubted any fans recognized him looking like that. Lucky. Normally I didn't mind being asked for pictures and autographs, but with this kid following me around like a lost puppy, I was going to be irritable. Colby wasn't really a kid, at least not if you compared our ages; I was only about six months older, but I felt like the age gap between us was at least a decade. I wondered momentarily why Mich wasn't into him. They liked the same music and stuff. He seemed more like her type; but she loved me, no matter how fucked up I was, and damn it, I loved her too. He couldn't have her. I leaned against the window, watching the earth pass by below us.