Formula for Devotion – Chapter 1 (Jay)

Copyright Amelia Simone 2023

Letting the soft cushions embrace me as I slumped on the couch did nothing to ease the grief that clawed at me from the inside. Beckett’s memorial had taken every ounce of bravado, leaving me feeling empty and hollowed out.

“Hey,” said Elodie softly, scooting in next to me, the warm weight of her head falling to my shoulder as she snuggled closer.

I inhaled deeply, taking comfort in her familiar scent of coffee and floral lotion. I basked in feeling cared for by Elodie until my gaze caught on the jar on our mantel. Dirtbag: party of one. Elodie’s friends had given us the jar as a sort of joke when I became her roommate two months ago. To her, it was a silly gag, a way to hold me accountable for being a good roommate. If I did anything gross, I paid money into the jar. To me, the glass Mason jar had become a symbol of everything I hated about myself. Every trait Beckett had despaired over in me. Arrogant. Selfish. Frivolous. Nothing like my older brother.

Beckett was the family man. Married for years to his lovely wife, Nora, she and their young daughter, Olivia, had been his world. Which made it even more cruel that fate ripped him from their lives in a car accident on I-5 instead of taking me. I was the asshole no one would miss. Beckett had a life and was loved by many. I was going to miss him every damn day like a gaping hole. So would Nora and Olivia. Nothing could fill the crater he’d left behind. Letting myself be cuddled on the couch by the one woman I’d sworn never to touch felt wrong. Beckett, Nora, and Olivia deserved happiness. I’d done nothing to earn Elodie’s comfort. Proof that fate was a jerk.

Elodie Varona. I woke up every day amazed she’d offered me a place to stay when Cheri moved out of their two-bedroom student hovel and in with her boyfriend, Luke. She’d hardly known me. We’d been acquaintances at best. I worked at Kwon and Associates, and she was friends with my coworkers. She worked as a barista at Camp Brew. I’d done my best to charm Elodie a time or ten while ordering my coffee for the weekly team meetings we held at the coffee shop. The one time I broached inviting her to join me for dinner, she’d claimed to be busy. But lucky bastard that I was, my lease was up just as she lost Cheri as her roommate, creating an opening for me.

Elodie reached for my hand, playing with my fingers. The soft brush of her skin triggered every nerve ending, sending a cascade of sensation up my shoulder, and I suppressed a shudder. Wanting what I couldn’t have was becoming a problem. And after my last conversation with Beckett, I owed it to her and to the world at large to do better. I’d been taking the easy route for a long time, keeping my relationships casual so no one got hurt. Maybe I couldn’t have the woman I really wanted, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have something real. Just not with her.

Clearing my throat, I mentioned the subject that had been circling in my mind since Beckett’s last sharp words. “Fair Varona, I need to make some changes. Will you help me?”

The plea in my words was plain, any pretense of my usual swagger gone. Elodie turned her warm brown eyes my way, solemn.

“What kind of changes, Jay? You’re grieving. It’s not exactly the best time to make major life decisions. Pretty sure I’m not supposed to let you sign any contracts or dye your hair.”

Forcing a wry smile, I gestured to the dirtbag jar. “Changes that won’t require me to have that anymore. It’s time for me to get serious about settling down.”

Elodie swallowed, watching me steadily with an expression more reserved than I was used to. I could usually count on Elodie to enthusiastically embrace my ideas. Even the bad ones. It was her one flaw and defining quality: she never said no. And I was careful not to abuse it.

When I offered to swap cooking for each other every Monday, she’d been thrilled. After she expressed an interest in running, we started getting up early and jogging together before work three days a week. I’d started a rewatch of Dr. Clue on Mondays, and she’d joined me on the couch with popcorn. When I went to the bar on Saturdays, she played wingwoman, extolling my virtues to the women we met. I’d chatted up more women thanks to Elodie Varona than in my twenty-plus years of flirting on my own. As partners in crime went, she was always game. Always.

But I paid for it later. Literally. I slipped a five-dollar bill in the jar for every transgression. When I forgot to buy coffee and toilet paper because I was distracted flirting at the grocery store, money went into the jar. I’d made the mistake of commenting on how sexy Elodie looked in a summer dress, and the jar earned another fiver. Our friends had made it clear she was off-limits, and I did my best to respect that with the lone shred of honor I had left. Burying any feelings for Elodie was easier than risking failing her. She deserved the best, and I couldn’t convince myself or anyone else that I’d be good for her. Not Beckett and not our friends. Everyone expected the worst, and I’d become a master at exceeding their expectations. Generally, I avoided asking Elodie for things because I didn’t want to put her in the position of denying me. When I slipped up, I paid the jar. And for this favor, I would owe it a boatload of cash. Enough to fund Elodie’s houseplant rescue operation for a year.

It was hard to read her expression as she glanced at the symbol of the man I’d become. Not just in Beckett’s eyes, but in everyone’s.

Dudebro.

Dirtbag.

I’d embraced the nicknames, telling myself I was proud to be a tool. A loner but never alone. Turning on the charm usually got me what I wanted, at least for a while. But seduction on its own wouldn’t land me anything lasting. Not like Beckett had. He and Nora had been the real deal. Watching my sister-in-law grieve only emphasized that feeling sorry for myself helped no one. Certainly not Nora or Olivia. To do that, I had to show my family I could be more than an unreliable flirt. I’d have to become the thing I’d avoided for too long: a good example. Strong, stable, and an all-around decent family man. Someone my niece and I could be proud of.

“I think I’m ready for a girlfriend.”

Saying it aloud was the first step, right? Watching Elodie, I debated laughing off my admission and pretending I’d been joking. I’d owe the jar another five dollars, but at least I wouldn’t have to witness her lose confidence in me. Not when she’d been in my corner for so long. Asking her for help with this would for sure put me in the doghouse with our friends. It was the golden rule: don’t take advantage of Elodie.

“Anyone in mind?” she asked, her voice sounding rusty, almost breathless.

Shoving aside the instinct to say yes, I shook my head.

“No one specific. I’m just tired of playing it casual.” I laughed, the sound awkward to my own ears. “Guess you could say I’m ready to grow up, Varona. To find someone who’s patient, kind, and beautiful inside and out, yet still willing to put up with me. A woman I could build a real future and maybe a family with.”

“How can I help?”

Just like that.

“Varona, I knew I could count on you,” I said, forcing a grin to cover my misgivings.

“What did you have in mind, exactly?” she asked delicately.

Shrugging, I realized I hadn’t gotten that far. “Not really sure. But you’re the psych major. Surely, you can help me become boyfriend material. You’ve got to have some… what do you call them? Behavior modification techniques?”

Her lips twitched, and I held up my hands. “That was not an invitation to tase me,” I warned, aware she carried her precious Sparky when she opened at Camp Brew for safety.

“Electroshock isn’t your thing?”

Shuddering, I basked in the way her eyes lit with good humor over the teasing.

“I had something tamer in mind.”

“Like a sticker chart?”

Chuckling, I shifted on the couch, wishing she hadn’t moved so far away.

“Sure. A gold star for every day I’m not a shallow jerk?”

Elodie rolled her eyes. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She said it like she meant it, but shadows of Beckett’s admonitions still lurked in my memories, and I glanced away, unable to meet her gaze. He’d accused me of “drowning in pussy to avoid my feelings.” At the time, I’d laughed off his unusually crass language. My brother, the saint, didn’t do crude.

“I’ll just place myself in your capable hands. With your help, I’ll be girlfriend-ready in no time,” I said, avoiding her comment about my self-image. She seemed to be the only person to see under the swagger. I had the rest of the world fooled into thinking I believed my bullshit.

“Right,” she said faintly.

Frowning over her lack of enthusiasm, I peered at her more carefully. “Hey. What’s wrong? You don’t want me to be a better man? I thought self-improvement was your gig?”

She cleared her throat, straightening against the couch, and I watched, mesmerized, as she pushed silky strands of her short dark hair behind one ear. “It is. I love that journey for you,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Was it my imagination that it faltered around the edges?

“Are you worried about history repeating itself?” I asked, eyes narrowing. She looked confused, and I continued. “You’re the best roommate and friend I’ve ever had. I promise, I won’t leave you high and dry without a roomie.”

“Of course.” Her lips tilted up, something about the smile still seeming less than sincere. “You know how hard it is to find affordable housing in this town.”

“Yeah. And roommates as awesome as me don’t come along often,” I said, polishing my knuckles across my shirt. “I keep our bathroom pristine. You don’t find that often. Or ever.”

It was my single strength, and I had to tout it frequently lest she forgets. Growing up with Beckett and sharing a bathroom with him, it was the one area I ruled. At least I cleaned up after myself.

The frown between Elodie’s eyebrows relaxed, and I settled back against the couch, mirroring her.

I’d taken the first step by admitting the problem and asking for help. As the only person who saw my few good qualities, I figured Elodie was the most qualified to help me showcase them for others.

So why did I feel like I’d missed out on something important in our conversation?

“Are you sure you want to make big changes right now?” she asked cautiously. “It’d be okay to take some time to grieve. You’re confident you’re doing this for the right reasons?”

Her questioning my motives made sense, given the timing, and I squeezed her hand.

“This is the best way for me to honor Beckett’s memory. By becoming the man he knew I could be. No one knows how much time they have, and I don’t want to feel like I’m wasting mine. Family matters. Love matters. It’s time for me to focus on my future.”

“Then I’m in.”

“Thank you, Fair Varona. You won’t regret this. I’ll be a model pupil.”

Snorting gently, she shook her head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Relaxing into the couch, I let my focus return to our show, at ease now that I’d gained her agreement. Alone, I was sure to fuck up. But with Elodie? I had a fighting chance.

Elodie seemed deep in thought, and I nudged her after a particularly loud growl from her stomach.

“Hey, you want to get takeout tonight? I feel like some comfort food. How does Bow Thai sound?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the tomato they put in the basil fried rice.”

“Then, Shrimp, I will ask them to hold it and get you tomato-free basil fried rice. Anything for you, Varona.”

Over dinner, I pretended to watch our show instead of Elodie, looking for any signs of regret for agreeing to help me. She’d already shed her black dress from the memorial, replacing it with fuzzy sweatpants and a pink sweatshirt that clung to the slopes of her breasts. She looked sweet and innocent with the dark fringe of bangs framing her face and the rest of her hair swept back in a stubby ponytail. The delicate arch of her collarbone and defined cheekbones made her appear fragile, but underneath, she was anything but. Elodie had become my rock and my best friend. She was also incredibly beautiful, inside and out. Noticing her as a woman wasn’t a part of our deal. She didn’t think of me that way, and she was the one person I couldn’t afford to disappoint.

Uncomfortable with the direction of my thoughts, I yawned, orchestrating my escape. “I’m going to turn in. You up for running tomorrow?”

She nodded. “Don’t make me drag your ass out of bed, Jay, or it’ll be a dollar for the jar.”

I twitched my lips. I loved it when she asserted herself.

“You’ve got it, Varona.”