by J. Sterling
Tami waved at me, grabbing my attention immediately as I weaved through the crowd toward her seat at the bar.
“You look hot,” she said. “And I ordered us both a drink from the themed menu. Here’s yours.”
She pushed an orange drink toward me. I picked it up and sniffed at it before taking a tentative sip.
Taking in her bright pink irises, I said, “New contacts?”
“Less devilish, right?” She winked and I laughed.
“At least these are truly pink. How many compliments did you get before I got here?” I knew damn well that guys would compliment her on her eyes, no matter what ridiculous color they were.
She rolled her eyes. “Just two. One from the guy at the door and the other from the bartender.”
“Oh, Tami, your eyes are amazing,” I said, mimicking a delusional male’s voice. “I’ve never seen anyone with neon pink eyes before.”
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.” She grinned at me as I let out a howl of laughter, but then her smile faded. “So, I’m sorry to bring him up, but I have to know. Are you totally over everything? I’m only asking because you actually seem okay.” She placed her hand on mine. “And I mean that in a good way. In the best way.”
I nodded. “I know you do. And I am over it, as much as anyone can truly be over something like that. I’ve given up the notion that I’ll ever hear from him again. Which is a little weird to say out loud, but it’s true.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I can’t make him want to talk to me. And I shouldn’t have to. So I don’t know if I’m okay with it as much as there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve finally accepted the reality of the situation, and I have to move on.” I shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“I still don’t understand what happened, though,” she said, pouting.
“Me either. But honestly, I don’t even care to know at this point. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I sipped at the orange cocktail. It was really good, the citrus flavors hitting my senses immediately, but not in a bitter or overly sweet way. It was the perfect balance of flavor. “This is delicious, by the way.”
“You don’t care about why he left? Really?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“I’ll never know why. And honestly, I don’t need it anymore. I wanted it desperately for so long, you know I did. But I literally woke up one morning and just . . . didn’t care.”
“I would have gone off the deep end, I think.” She looked up at the ceiling as if lost in thought. “Like right away.”
“I’ll tell you one thing. When you have absolutely nothing to work with, you tend to jump to a lot of conclusions. You make a lot of things up. My mind is not my friend in situations like these.”
I thought back to the worst-case scenarios my mind had dredged up back then. At the time, I wasn’t sure if my mind was trying to test my resilience or break me completely.
Each scenario was more hurtful than the last—he was dead, he hated me, it was all a joke, I was a bet, he was a con artist, he was married (to someone a thousand times prettier, smarter, and more awesome than I was, of course), he had secret wives all over the world, he was a pathological liar, I was a game, he was gay, I was a challenge.
“I would have reacted the same way.” She smiled. “Probably worse, though, because I definitely would have started sending shit to his office. Like dead mice, rotting dog crap, or those disgusting flavors of jelly beans, but in different packaging so he would think he was getting all popcorn-flavored or some shit. You know, the usual psycho ex-girlfriend stuff.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t have let you do that!”
“I would have done it anyway.”
Tami was right; she would have. And I wouldn’t have been able to stop her. Cal should be thankful I wasn’t like Tami in that regard.
“I guess in a way it still sucks, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. So I’m happy for that.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She held up her almost empty glass to mine, and we clinked them together.
“Cheers,” I said with a smile that mimicked how happy I finally felt inside. It seemed like a lifetime since I’d felt anywhere close to normal.
“You really do look great,” she added as she finished off her drink.
“I really do feel great.”
“Great enough to”—she glanced around at the quickly crowding space—“take someone home tonight?”
I practically choked on my drink. Leave it to Tami to turn everything into an opportunity to have a one-night stand.
“No. I mean, yes, I feel great. But I don’t want to meet anyone right now. I’m not interested in getting involved.”
“Who said anything about getting involved?”
“I’m not interested in general.”
She blew out a long, loud breath. “This again.”
“Seriously, Tami, you’re one to talk. Please sleep with someone more than one time and get back to me, okay?”
“Ew, no one wants to do that,” she said, her face scrunched as if she’d bit into something sour.
I laughed. “Actually, yeah. They do.”
“Who?”
“Most people do, actually.”
She grinned as she waved the bartender over and tapped the top of her glass. “I know. I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment.”
Like me, Tami was motivated to succeed and build a name for herself in her career. It was why she kept men at arm’s length, but she’d never admitted it to me before.
I nodded. “I know you’re not.”
“You and I are really similar when it comes to guys and work,” she said, echoing my thoughts. “The biggest difference is that I don’t deny myself sex the way that you do.”
“Because I can actually go months without having it and not feel like I’m going to die.”
Her jaw dropped open as if I’d said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “How that happens, I’ll never understand.”
As the bartender returned with two fresh drinks before placing them in front of us, I stared at her and her pink eyes, knowing that tonight she’d eventually find a guy to go home with, and I’d go home alone. But I’d be okay with that because I was finally okay.
Again.
Chickenshit
Cal
Dropping Jules had been a chickenshit move, and I knew it. But that still hadn’t stopped me from doing it. I stopped calling, stopped texting, and did my damnedest to remove her from my brain and heart completely.
But it hadn’t worked.
Nothing worked.
Cutting her out of my life hadn’t stopped her from existing in it; I was already too attached to her. She’d wormed her way into my heart, and no matter how much I tried to pretend it hadn’t happened, it had. I felt her there.
Each day that I ignored her, the place where she lived in me ached more. The pain hadn’t lessened with her absence—it had only grown.
When Jules had told me that day about handing off her client to her coworker, my chest had ached for her. The last thing I’d wanted was for her to sacrifice anything work-related because of me. But she had done it anyway, willingly, and I figured she’d eventually hate me for it. I didn’t want to be someone she ended up hating, so I made a horribly stupid decision and stuck by it.
And now she probably hated me anyway. She had to, by this point.
Shit, even I hated me.
How the hell I’d gone this long without talking to her was beyond me, but as each day passed, it seemed more and more impossible to pick up the phone and fix the mess I’d created. What kind of an apology would be enough? How could I ever make her understand why I’d done what I had?
When you knew something had an expiration date, what did you do? If you were me, you apparently ran away like a coward and tried not to speak to the love of your life ever again. Like a goddamned idiot.
How could she not see what I was doing? How could she not see that I was driven by fear and insecurity?
>
Jules was smart. Eventually she would figure it out.
• • •
Days turned into weeks, and eventually a month passed. If I thought it would get easier to be away from her, I was dead wrong.
Jules was apparently a hard habit to break, and it hit me that I didn’t want to. I’d spent so much time trying to fight what was happening between us, trying to talk myself out of having feelings for her. What I should have been doing was figuring out how to fit her into my life instead of forcing her out of it. I should have been thankful I’d found someone so amazing, not freaking out because of that fact.
I had been so stupid, so incredibly selfish and immature, and I didn’t know how to fix it. How could I repair what I had so willingly broken? Lucas had given me a stern talking-to on more than one occasion, and I was convinced that if he had access to Jules’s phone number, he would have called her and ended this fiasco weeks ago. The weaker parts of me had wanted to let him, but I couldn’t do it.
And now we sat in a bar, drowning my sorrows as it all crashed down around me.
“You gonna finish off that bottle?” Lucas asked as he pointed to the Blanton’s sitting across the bar.
“Probably. You got a problem with that?” I glanced at the bartender before signaling that I wanted another.
“No. Just figured I’d help you out. Be a team player and all.”
A team player.
Jules had been my teammate and I’d cut her loose. Removed her from the team without warning, took away her jersey and all but burned it.
“How considerate of you,” I said sarcastically, sniping at my best friend who didn’t deserve the attitude.
Lucas gave me a hard look. “You know, you’ve been a real dick since you fucked up with Jules. I just wanted to point that out in case you wanted to do something about that. Go apologize to her. Make things right.”
“How am I supposed to do that? It’s been too long, Luc. I might have been able to fix it after a few days, but not after this long.”
He scowled at me. “How do you know? You haven’t even tried.”
When the bartender refilled our glasses and sat the empty bottle between us, I reached for the horse stopper and pulled it off.
“You gotta be shitting me.”
“What? Which letter is it?”
“The L,” I said before practically throwing it at Lucas’s chest.
“That’s the one you need. Now you have them all, right? I mean, if the bar lets you keep it, which I’m sure they will,” he said with a smile, and I nodded. “Why aren’t you excited? You’ve been looking for that damn top forever.”
“I don’t fucking want it anymore, okay?”
The truth was, I didn’t want it because it reminded me of Jules. And that stupid L that had seemed so important at the time only served as a reminder of everything I’d lost. Who cared about a stupid bottle top when I didn’t have Jules anymore?
“Like I said, you’ve been a real dick, Donovan,” Lucas said as he sipped his bourbon.
“I need to get out of here.” I tossed more than enough cash on top of the bar before stumbling out the doors and opening a car app on my phone.
Lucas appeared behind me. “You calling a car?”
“Yeah. You coming or what?”
“I’m gonna stay for a bit longer. Text me when you get home so I know you’re not dead or in jail,” he said before walking back inside.
I forced out a quick laugh. Lucas and the damn bartender had been flirting all night. It hadn’t annoyed me before, but now it pissed me the hell off.
The car pulled up and I got inside, giving the driver my address as I fidgeted in the backseat.
I didn’t know what the hell to do anymore. I couldn’t live like this a second longer, not like this, not without her. Dialing Cooper’s number, I prayed he wasn’t at a game. I hadn’t even looked at his schedule before calling, and I needed his advice.
“Hey,” he answered, out of breath.
“Hey. You busy?”
“Not for my big bro. What’s up? How’s Jules?” Leave it to Cooper to ask how Jules was. Of course he’d ask.
“That’s actually why I’m calling,” I said, the bourbon sloshing around in my all but empty stomach.
“Okay,” he said, his voice wary.
“I fucked up, Coop. I fucked up real bad.”
“Shit, Cal, what’d you do?”
His tone was so concerned, I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought it was that I might have done. Shoving that aside for the moment, I said, “I got scared.”
“And you pushed her away?” he asked, finishing my sentence for me.
“Not exactly. I took myself out of the equation.”
“I’m not following.”
“I stopped talking to her,” I said, the admission crushing me. The guilt I’d been carrying on my shoulders fell down around me like boulders once I said the words out loud.
“You stopped talking to her? Like you stopped returning her phone calls or what?”
I cleared my throat. “I stopped everything cold turkey, Coop. Didn’t return texts, calls, e-mails. No explanation. No nothing. I basically disappeared.”
My driver, who’d been acting like he’d been ignoring my phone conversation the whole time, caught my eye in the rearview mirror and shook his head in disgust.
“What the hell, Cal? That’s awful. Why would you do that to her?”
The last thing I needed was my little brother yelling at me over shit I already knew. I didn’t need to be chastised; I needed help.
Lowering my voice, I said, “Because I’m an idiot, okay? I was wrong. I made a mistake. I screwed up. I need to know how to fix it. If you’d done this to Katherine, what would you do to make her forgive you?”
“First of all, let’s be clear that I’d never do that to Katherine,” he said, his voice stern, angry even.
“Yeah, we already know you’re the perfect brother. Got it. Help me, please.”
“I wouldn’t apologize over the phone or through a text, that’s for sure. I’d make sure I apologized face-to-face,” he said, and I nodded along. That was a good idea, the in-person part. “And I’d do whatever it took to make her forgive me. Whatever it took, Cal.”
That one would be tougher, and I knew it.
“What if she won’t? Forgive me, that is?”
“If she’s what you really want, you can’t let her say no. And then you figure out what it will take to win her back, and do that.”
“Thanks, Coop.”
“Keep me updated.”
“I will.”
I ended the call and ignored the glances my driver shot at me in the mirror as I went about formulating a plan of attack. I had no idea where Jules’s head was, not to mention her heart. She could despise me by this point, and I wouldn’t blame her if she did, but I needed to convince her otherwise.
I had no idea how to go about doing that, but I sure as hell was going to try.
He’s Here
Jules
My arms filled with all of my things, I pushed my way through the apartment complex door with my hip and ran straight into a solid wall of . . . chest?
My morning coffee spilled and the client folders filled with paperwork I had been holding fell to the ground. I watched as the sheets scattered before muttering shit and rushing to grab them. Squatting, I started gathering them before hearing, “Let me help you.”
My heart thumped once, maybe twice, before it stopped beating altogether. Apparently, even my heart had a self-preservation mode. My breath hitched as a golf-ball-sized lump instantly formed in my throat.
How could four stupid words cause such an intense physical reaction?
My gaze moved slowly from his black shoes and followed the length of his jeans up past the formfitting black T-shirt before landing on my demise, the one thing that captured me in the first place, those horribly stupid perfect lips. I paused on them a little longer than I should have, and when I locked onto
Cal’s hazel eyes, I had to stop myself from falling to the ground completely.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my tone as annoyed as I could muster through my surprise as I shoved the papers into a rough stack.
“I came for you,” he said matter-of-factly, as if that simple declaration would wipe away the last several weeks of emotional hell I’d been through and make it all better.
His response was such a shock, I couldn’t hold myself up. Stunned, I dropped to the concrete and pulled my knees up to my chest as his words repeated inside my head.
I came for you. I came for you. I came for you.
“Why?” My emotions warred within me, contradictory, conflicting, and almost too much for me to bear.
Cal sat down across from me, mirroring my position but not touching. “Because I messed up, Jules. I messed up so bad.”
I tried to swallow but my throat felt thick, and my heart thumped loudly against my chest as if it couldn’t fit in there a second longer.
My mind warned me not to trust him so easily, no matter how hard my heart battered against its cage. We believed all of his pretty words before, my mind said, and look where it got us—heartbroken, discarded, and ignored.
Staring unseeing at the papers I’d dropped a second time, I said flatly, “Yeah, you did. Why are you here?”
It took everything in me to hold on to my resolve and not jump into his arms. Seeing him in front of me, I was still so very attracted to this man. But I’d finally gotten angry at him, and I’d been grateful for that emotion at the time. But now that he was sitting across from me, I felt anything but anger.
And that pissed me right off. I shouldn’t melt at the mere sight of him. Not after what he’d done. I shouldn’t even warm in his presence.
But I did.
He ran his fingers through his messy brown hair before he pinned me with his gaze. “I’m here to tell you I’m sorry, to make things right. To fight for you.”
When he reached out to touch my leg, I jerked it away. I couldn’t let him touch me. Not yet. My anger simmered just below the surface, and I held on to it like a lifeline. Being mad made me feel strong and powerful. It was all I had.
“To fight for me?” I said with a choked laugh. “What a joke. You threw me away, wouldn’t even respond to my messages. Hell, you wouldn’t even read them on Facebook. What kind of an asshole—”
