Sure I think about you now and then, but it's been a long, long time.
I've got a good life now, I've moved on, so when you cross my mind....
I try not to think about what might have been
'Cause that was then, and we've taken different roads
We can't go back again, there's no use giving in
And there's no way to know what might have been.
We could sit and talk about this all night long, and wonder why we didn't last
Yes, they might be the best days we will ever know,
but we'll have to leave them in the past.
So try not to think about what might have been
'Cause that was then, and we've taken different roads
We can't go back again, there's no use giving in
And there's no way to know what might have been.
That same old look in your eyes, it's a beautiful night, I'm so tempted to stay
But too much time has gone by, we should just say goodbye
and turn and walk away.
And try not to think about what might have been
'Cause that was then and we've taken different roads
We can't go back again, there's no use giving in
And there's no way to know what might have been.
No, we'll never know what might have been.



Today's my anniversary. A year ago today, I married the girl of my dreams. So why has every one of the last 365 days been a total nightmare? I could blame it on our hectic schedules, or the fact that she's bugging the crap outta me about having kids. It could be a million reasons, but I know it's just one. And that one reason happens to be my brother.

If I lived for a hundred years, I'll never forget the look on Jeff's face when I told him I was going to marry Amy. I tried to explain to him why I had to do it. I tried to tell him that nothing would change between us. Well, except for one thing - we couldn't sleep together any more. He cried. I told him that it was for the best, that I had to try and have a normal life. That was when he asked me exactly what "normal" was. Try explaining that one.

It was a cruel joke, asking him to be my best man. I saw the pain in his eyes, but I knew that if I had asked anyone else, questions would be asked. Questions I was too terrified to answer, then and now. It was too much for me, being with Jeff every day. We couldn't be together anywhere, except in the shrouded darkness of our hotel room. That's why he bought his house, so that when we were home, we would have a place of our own.

Why does life have to be so complicated? Why can't we just be left alone, free to live and love like we want? Why the hell do I have to torture myself like this? Okay, that's it. No more thoughts of Jeff. I'm a married man. I have a good wife, who worships and adores me. So why is it that every time we make love, all I can see is my brother writhing under me, telling me how much he loves me, wants me, needs me?

I look up and she's standing there. God, please don't let her talk to me. Don't let her ask what's on my mind. And if she does, please, oh please let me come up with something that will satisfy her. I can't deal with it right now, not when I miss him more with each passing day. She's saying something about getting ready to go. Where are we going? Oh yeah, dinner. Dad's house. How could I forget?

Because I know he's going to be there. And I know I'm going to have to sit at the same table as him and smile and act happy, when the only thing I really want to do is clear the table and fuck him right there in the house I grew up in, in front of my friends, my family and the whole damn world. Like I care any more. I love him. I miss him. I need him. And worst of all, I want him, more than I want to breathe, or eat, or sleep or even live.

Time to put on my game face, and be the loving and devoted husband. She's standing there, waiting for me by the front door, and I have to admit she looks good. Just not as good as him. When she hugs me and whispers in my ear that we can celebrate later, I shudder slightly. I hope she thinks it's just because I'm excited. In a way, I am. I can close my eyes and pretend that it's Jeff I'm buried deep inside of.

The radio fills the silence of my car as we head to the other side of town. I listen to the lyrics of the song they're playing, and I start to think again. What would have happened if I had never left him? Would we still be together? Of course we would. He would have never left me, not like I did him. He had always been the only person I could envision myself with for the rest of my life.

I search my brain and try to remember why I decided I needed to break away. The reasons are there, on the outskirts of my memory, but I can't quite get a grasp on them. No time to try, either, as we pull into the drive and get out. He's here. I see his car and as we walk into the house, I smell the wonderful scent of him, mixed with the food he's tending to in the kitchen.

Our friends are here as well, and I watch as Shannon bustles around the kitchen, helping Jeff make dinner. I stand in the doorway and bite my lip when Jeff stops him and kisses him gently, in a way I know all too well. I'm torn between turning away and leaving them to share this tender moment, and walking in there and punching Shan's lights out for touching my baby.

Mine. Yeah, I think I'll always think of him like that. Because he was mine first, and once I thought he always would be. Then I had to get a conscience, and let morality take over my thoughts. He brushes against me as he carries the bread to the table and my body is on fire, a million tiny pinpricks scattering over every inch of my skin.

As he heads back to the kitchen, I want to grab him and pin him to the wall, feel every inch of his body, pressed against mine. I want to make him scream, cry, beg. I want him. Does he still want me? Does he think about me, the way I think about him? Guess I'll never know. As we sit down to eat, I try to clear my mind. This is the way things are, I tell myself. It's the way they always will be.

Even if I know, deep down inside, that this is the biggest mistake I've ever made, there's no sense dwelling on it. I burned that bridge long ago. There's no way to fix it, no way to get back what I threw away. No way to ever have the kind of love that only he could give me. I glance up at him, wanting to memorize every detail, knowing I can never have him again.

But wait. Is that…? For a second, I thought I saw something in his eyes, something that used to move me every time. I wonder if that was longing, or was it just wishful thinking on my part. I dismiss it and concentrate on having a good time. I want him to know that I still love him, that nothing has changed in my heart. But he'd probably laugh. Or worse yet, tell me to fuck off.

If I only knew what he was thinking. If I could make time stand still at the last night we spent together. If I could go back and undo all the things I've done. My life is full of what ifs, and if onlys. It's full of regret and remorse. It's full of acting and pretending. But, worst of all, it's full of him. His smile, his laugh. Memories of his lips against my skin, my hands on his. His beauty. His heart. His soul. Damn, I miss him more each day.

Read the Third Story in the series Without You