The mention of Abbi is a low blow, but it’s about time I brought her up. She’s got a life with Abbi. A good one. One she should be proud of. She’s got money from Chris’ death that she could use to get a house of her own, and that could help her move on. But she hasn’t done shit with the money, except buy these clothes that barely fucking fit her.
Haley looks hurt for a moment, then turns slightly to look over her shoulder as my father walks into the room.
Yet another member of my family that I’m pissed at. I’m just pissed at everyone, it seems.
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, but doesn’t say anything. He should say something, though. This family never talks about a damn thing. I’m ready to talk, and they better be ready to listen.
Haley turns back to look at me and lowers her voice.
“You have no idea what it’s like,” she swallows thickly before continuing, “I lost the one man…”
Her voice cracks, and her shoulders hunch forward. I get up from the sofa and wrap her in my arms. She starts to push me away, her heels clicking loudly on the old wooden floor, but her gesture is weak.
“Let it out,” I say, gently rubbing her back. She tries to say something, tries to push me away, but she breaks down in my arms.
She loses it. She sobs into my chest. It’s been close to nine months now since Chris passed. Nine months of misery, of trying to navigate grief.
Nine months can be a long time, or a short time. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Sometimes it feels so long and guilt weighs against my chest that I could be moving on without him. Sometimes it’s been too soon and I can’t do a damn thing without hearing his voice in my head.
Tears still cloud my own eyes when I remember him. I was their best man. I’ll never forget how happy he was. Happy to be married to Haley, and happy for her to be carrying his baby girl.
Chris was a good man, and it’s terrible that Haley and Abbi lost him. I wish I could bring him back. But I can’t.
“I know, Haley. I know it hurts.”
She shakes her head, ruffling her hair, but doesn’t say anything.
“I do know. I was there, and I couldn’t do anything. I wish I could. I wish I could take it all back. I would, Haley. I’d take his place for you if I could.”
“Don’t say that,” she says weakly, not looking me in the eyes. I run my hand up and down her arm, holding her close.
“You gotta take care of yourself and Abbi, Haley. You gotta try to move on.”
“I can’t, Hunter,” Haley whimpers in my chest and pulls away, wiping under her eyes.
“You can, baby girl,” my father says. He walks over and rubs her back.
She takes in a ragged breath and gives him a hug, too. All the while he’s looking me in the eyes.
“Go on upstairs. I think you should stay in and maybe take a while to think about things?” Pops tells her.
She doesn’t argue as she walks away, taking in steadying breaths.
Pops watches her walk away. I don’t wait for him to say a damn word to me. I don’t need his advice. I’m pent up and feeling like shit. I need to get out of here.
I need Vi. I know with everything in me that I need her.
The sky’s a dark grey, making it feel later than it is. It’s spitting out rain and I can hear faint thunder coming in.
I hear my father yell out my name, but I don’t stop. I look over my shoulder as I open the door to the truck and see him standing on the porch, but I have nothing to say to him right now.
I hop in my truck without looking back. I try to push away the memories of Chris. The tires squeal on the wet road as I speed off to go see Vi.
I just need her. I don’t know what for, but right now I know I need my Vi. If she won’t have me as a lover, I’ll settle for a friend. I can only hope she’ll let me in. I need her.
I told Chris about her. He made a big deal of telling me I was a fucking idiot for throwing away what I had with her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I pull up to the red light at the end of the street and try to prevent the tears pricking my eyes from coming through at the memory.
I remember how he laughed at me. He said one day I'd see what a mistake I’d made. He was right. Fuck, I wish he was here now so I could tell him. I bang my fist on the steering wheel, hating what time has done to me.
I breathe out slow and steady and keep the bitch tears from surfacing as I pull up into the bakery parking lot.
Her car’s not there. Where the hell is she?
I pull in and get out, walking around the side where she came in the other night. The rain comes down a little harder, and the light in the sky dims.
I knock against her door with my fist. It’s clenched so tight, I think the skin will break with each pounding knock.
I need someone to lean on, and I want that someone to be Vi. But she’s not here.
I scream out her name and back up a few steps to look in her window. But it’s pointless. She’s gone. I don’t know where, but she’s not here.
My phone beeps in my pocket. The sky cracks with an angry bolt of lightning and the rain comes down harder, pounding against my head and shoulders, soaking my clothes.
I get in the truck and slam the door. I’m drenched, and somehow feeling worse than I did when I left.
I pull the phone from my pocket and look down, hoping it’s Vi like the fucking idiot that I am.
It’s a text from Jared.
* * *
COME TO THE BAR, we’ll take care of the shop tomorrow.
* * *
I START up the car and try not to think about Vi or where she is right now.
A drink is exactly what I need.
CHAPTER 15
VIOLET
I follow Slade and the redheaded waitress through the diner, looking at the sagging blue plastic seats and chipped white laminate tables. The second we walked out of my bakery, I knew this was a mistake.
To go on a date with Slade after letting Hunter hold me close, kiss me so thoroughly…
Technically, it wasn’t wrong or slutty, but it kind of felt that way. Especially with Slade putting his hands all over me and wrapping his arm around my waist. I’m trying not to be a bitch, but I don’t like it.
I sigh silently as Slade examines several booths before choosing one, totally ignoring the waitress. I realize I’m going to have to tell Slade I don’t want to date him, as soon as I find out whether or not I get the loan. Which better happen… like now.
“Which one do you want?” Slade asks, frowning at the tables.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, crossing my arms. It’s a booth. All the tables are flat, so I don’t give a fuck.
He looks at me and sees how impatient I am, so he relents. “Alright. How about this one?”
“Fine,” I say, choosing a side of the table and sitting down. I toss my purse down next to me onto the booth.
“Great,” he says, scootching into my side of the table. “Move over, will you?”
I picture a gleaming new oven as I move over to accommodate him. Is it worth it? I wonder.
“Here you go!” the waitress says, handing us menus. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Before I can open my mouth, Slade cuts in.
“She’ll have a diet soda, and I’ll have coffee,” he says.
* * *
I FROWN as the waitress skips off to put the order in. As if he didn't really just order for me. My mouth opens and closes, with nothing coming out for a moment. I close my eyes and calm myself down. I’m just worked up, that’s all this is.
“I hate diet soda,” I inform him. “It tastes like plastic.”
“Well, I think it’s time you start expanding your palate a little,” he says, looking at the menu. “After all, you won’t be thin forever. My father says self-maintenance is best done before there’s an issue.”
I scowl down at my menu. I’m a little surprised, but not as much as I should be. I opt to say nothing
, since his comment is so offhanded, but inside I’ve gone from being blasé to being downright pissed.
Slade seems oblivious. He launches into a long, boring story about a meeting he had at the bank with an awkward client. It’s only when he’s wrapping the story up because the waitress is returning with our drinks, that I realize he just told me about declining someone’s loan. About how fun it was for him, how funny it was.
I glance at him, flustered.
“A coffee for you, and a diet soda for the lady,” the redhead says.
“Thanks,” I mumble. “Actually, could I just get a water?”
Slade’s look is approving, which makes me want to order ten milkshakes, but I stay mum.
New oven. New oven, I remind myself. You can do it.
“Sure thing! Do you guys know what you want to order?” the waitress asks, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen.
I expect Slade to allow me to order first, but he doesn’t. Instead, he orders for me.
“She’ll have the house salad, no croutons, dressing on the side,” he says. “And I’ll have a BLT with fries.”
The waitress writes everything down, despite the fact that my jaw is hanging open with shock. I’m a human, not a fucking rabbit.
“Anything else?” she asks, barely looking up.
“I—” I say, but Slade cuts me off.
“No thanks,” he says, grabbing the menu out of my hands and stacking it with the other one.
“I’ll have that right out for you,” the redhead says, blushing when she makes eye contact with Slade. She bobs him a curtsy as she scoops up the menus. “Sir.”
As soon as she’s gone, I turn to Slade.
“You don’t order for me,” I say, keeping my words measured. “Ever.”
“Oh, come on,” he says, waving his hand. “I ordered you what my father gets for my mother. It’s a gesture.”
I stare at him, befuddled. He honestly thinks I want him to choose my food for me? The part about his parents doesn’t escape me, either.
He thinks this is getting serious, I realize. This is normal behavior for him.
Slade immediately changes the story, telling me instead all of the things he’s heard about the young woman who’s waiting on us. I look at him blankly.
There’s no way he can think that I’m interested in this, right? This just reminds me that I’m the subject of their gossip when I’m not looking. At that thought, I’m done. I don’t give a fuck if my life is ruined over not getting this damn loan. I. Am. Done.
“Can I get out?” I blurt.
Slade looks a little surprised that I interrupted him in the middle of a sentence. How rude of me.
“Uh… okay,” he says, disgruntled.
He makes a show of folding his napkin and putting it on the table, then sliding out of the booth. I get out of the booth, rummaging around in my purse. I refuse to owe him anything, even if he promised to pay for the meal.
“Here,” I say, offering him a twenty. “To cover my meal.”
I turn away and start to leave, but he stops me, his hand banding around my forearm. He jerks me so that I’m off balance when I look back at him. The pinch hurts my arm a bit, and my hand instinctively flies to his to get him off of me.
“Sit. Down.” His words are hissed.
“No,” I say, tugging on my arm to free myself.
He doesn’t let go, though. He draws me closer, his eyes burning into mine.
“I said sit down,” he says. “There’s no reason to cause a scene.”
“Stop it, Slade,” I say, my voice gone to gravel. “Let me go.”
A furious look comes over his face. “Outside, now.”
He starts dragging me toward the exit by the arm, oblivious to the fact that the waitress is staring at him with something like horror.
He’s squeezing so hard that it hurts, so hard that my arm goes a little numb. It feels like a bruising hold and my heartbeat speeds up, hating that he won’t let me go.
“Now!” he growls, giving me a hard shake.
I stop resisting, nearly paralyzed with shock and fear. Slade manages to pull me outside as my blood heats and I try to wrap my head around what’s going on. A sea-change has come over him as he yanks me around the side of the building, away from prying eyes.
He’s red in the face, sweating, and he doesn’t mind getting in my face. So close that his hot breath hits me, and makes my neck arch away from him.
“Where do you think you’re gonna go, huh?” he says, pushing me against the building. My back hits the cold brick wall and I gasp. “Do you think there’s somewhere you can go that I don’t control? Somewhere you can run around and be a slut, embarrass me?”
“Slade—” I try to speak, barely managing to get his name out of my mouth.
“You shut up. You’re good enough to look at, and you have childbearing hips,” he says, releasing my arm to grab my hips. “And my father says you pass muster. So I’m going to train you, teach you how to be a wife.”
I open my mouth again to protest, but he kisses me roughly, covering my mouth with his and shoving his tongue down my throat. His hands tear at my blouse, and I’m afraid that he’ll rip it. I push my hands against his shoulders, trying to push him away, but he only moves in closer, as if to show me how weak I am.
“St-” I move my face away from his to tell him no, but he grips my jaw and crushes his lips against mine.
I’m afraid he’ll do more than that, actually. I struggle, but it only seems to excite him. I try to push him away, but I’m too weak. I try to scream, but the sounds are muffled by his mouth on mine. My breathing comes in frantic pants, and my heart beats so hard it hurts. One of his hands snakes down between us, intent on getting up my skirt.
I don’t know what happens, exactly, but that’s some kind of trigger. Just before he can touch my panties, I shove him back with all my weight. He laughs and comes at me again, but this time I’m ready for him.
I knee him in the balls as hard as I can, right between the legs.
His face would be comical if I wasn’t so panicked. I don’t stick around for him to recover, though.
I turn toward the front of the building and run.
CHAPTER 16
HUNTER
“So you fucked it up,” Jared says matter-of-factly.
I grip the bar top and groan with frustration. I look at him seated on the barstool to my right, waiting for the punch line. But there is none.
I look at him straight faced as he brings the beer to his lips. “That’s not at all what I said.” He laughs into it and then takes a swig.
The college game is on the TVs on the front wall, and I can hear the cheers from them in the background. There are a few guys in here; Casey and Sean I know, but there are a a few older guys I don’t. The retirees are watching the game, while Casey and Sean are in the back playing pool with someone else.
I’ve spent a good forty minutes trying to explain to Jared what the hell’s going on with Vi, and all he keeps saying is that I fucked it up.
“How did I fuck up?” I wish he’d just tell me. I don’t care what I’ve gotta do to make it right.
“She didn’t forgive you,” he says, tilting his beer and taking another swig.
“Yeah, I know that, but how the fuck is that my fault?”
He looks at me with a straight face. “The first thing you should know is that it’s always your fault.”
Sean’s behind us and he lets out a small grunt of a laugh. I turn to look at him, and he’s leaning against the wall holding the pool stick and nodding his head as he watches Casey take another shot.
“Okay,” I say and try to contain my anger. I set my beer down. “So how do I make her forgive me?” 'Cause that’s what I really want. That’s my end game. They can joke about me fucking up all they want as long as they give me a game plan on how to win her back.
Jared shrugs.
“I don’t know, man.” He tosses his empty beer behind the bar and into an overs
ized trash can. He makes the shot, but the old bartender looks up and glares at him. Jared raises his hands in defeat, but the smirk on his face doesn’t dim.
“I think she just needs time,” he finally says.
“She’s had years to forgive me.” I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “How long can she possibly stay mad?”
“No,” he says with a hard edge. “You just came back.” He stares at me with his brows furrowed. “She’s only just finding out how you really feel.”
I groan in frustration and lay my head on the bar.
“I know. But I’m here now.”
I know I could make everything right, but she’s not giving me a chance. I sigh, feeling defeated. I want my Vi back. I don’t want her to stay mad at me forever. I want her to want me again.
“Give the girl some time,” the bartender says. I think I heard one of the other guys call him Ralph earlier. He’s old and has a wedding band on his ring finger. I make a point to take advice from people who have what I want. Maybe I do just need to give her time. Ralph opens another bottle and sets it down in front of me. I pass him my empty one and nod my head.
But damn, I don’t want to give her time. I want her now.
The cold beer feels good going down. I guess a little time won’t hurt anything. I can get my shit together, and be a man worth having. I can become the man who belongs next to her.
“How long?” I ask with impatience.
I lean back on the barstool so the front feet leave the ground, and I’m balancing with my boots pushing against the bar.
The guys behind me start laughing again, and then someone scores on the TV. The guy on the other end of the bar hollers out and salutes the bartender with his beer before taking a long drink. The bartender looks at the TV with disdain, shaking his head.
“I don’t know why I make bets with you, Earl,” Ralph mutters while keeping his eyes on the game.
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