Carey

 

After the party at Brady’s, a small portion of the group decided to head out to a nearby bar for drinks. The day had gotten on, and the sun had long since begun its dip down into the sky.

 

“What a great afternoon,” said Brady, a big, beaming smile on his face as he drove through the curving roads around the country club. “I don’t know about you, but I had a wonderful time.”

 

“Yeah,” said Carey. “It was nice.”

 

Brady flicked a skeptical glance in her direction. “You sound less than sincere.”

 

“No,” said Carey. “It was a really nice time. I’m just not used to being the center of attention like that.”

 

“Well,” said Brady, “you’d better get used to it. We’ve got the wedding to look forward to, and after that I plan on showing off my new bride to everyone I can. Don’t worry—you’ll learn to love the spotlight.”

 

Carey opened her mouth to speak, but before a single word came out the car lurched and bumped. Looking around frantically, Carey realized that Brady had swerved a little off of the road. A sharp pull on the steering wheel brought them back onto the road, but not before the sudden movement snapped Carey’s neck abruptly to one side.

 

“Ow!” she exclaimed, rubbing the now-sore muscles on the side of her neck. “What the hell, Brady?”

 

“Sorry,” he said, his eyes now fixed on the road ahead. “Hard to pay attention to the road when you’ve got such a beautiful passenger.”

 

“More like it’s hard to pay attention to the road when your liver’s floating in a pool of whiskey.”

 

“Excuse me?” he asked, his tone turning sharp.

 

“I mean, you’ve been partying pretty hard all day,” she said, softening her tone in an effort to not be confrontational. “Maybe I should drive? I’m sober as can be.”

 

“The man drives,” he said, not giving an inch. “Just sit there and stop arguing with me. We’re almost there.”

 

Carey sat back in her seat, her neck still pained from the turn. Looking down at her tiny baby bump, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Brady’s drunk driving had caused something more than just a little muscle overextension. She couldn’t help but compare how on edge she felt with Brady to the feeling of safety and security she had whenever she rode with Owen. Never once had she felt anything but taken care of when riding on the back of his motorcycle, and she realized that at that moment he’d give anything to be with him, her arms wrapped around his body as they drove down the highway together.

 

“Here we are,” said Brady, pulling sloppily into a parking spot in front of the bar, a wooden building trimmed with green neon lights. “Ready to keep the party going?”

 

“Sure,” said Carey, doing her best to mask her disappointment and frustration.

 

Brady took her hand and the two of them entered the bar. The party was already well underway when the pair arrived, and cheers sounded out from the group as Brady and Carey stepped into the place. Carey, just at the party on the balcony, felt trapped and alone. She scanned the crowd for Lily, but found her already talking with one of Brady’s friends, a sly smile on her face as she shamelessly flirted with her catch.

 

“Next round’s on me!” shouted Brady, causing more cheers to break out.

 

Carey navigated the bar, making her way to an open booth. She slid into the seat and did her best to avoid talking to anyone. After asking for a cup of coffee from the bartender, she sat by herself, sipping her drink and thinking back to the strange encounter with Owen only hours ago.

 

What did he mean that he’d always be watching out for me? she wondered, dumping a packet of artificial sugar into the mug and stirring it with her spoon. He had to have seen my ring; he had to have an idea of what was going on.

 

She sipped her drink and let her eyes blur over the crowd of partygoers around her.

 

Does that mean he’s going to back off? Does that mean that he’s going to admit that he lost and that there’s nothing he can do?

 

Her mind raced as she considered the possibilities.

 

And even if he’s going to be backing off, is that even what I want? Owen giving up would mean that I have no other option besides marrying Brady and passing off the baby as his.

 

Then, the thought of the baby gripped her mind.

 

And that’s another thing, she thought, even if this plan works, even if I pull it off without a hitch, it means that this baby, this boy or girl, whatever it is, will grow up thinking Brady is their father. They’ll never know who their real dad is. I’ll have to take that secret to my grave. Then again, after what I’ve done I suppose it’s a punishment that I deserve.

 

The bright shattering of a glass commanded Carey’s attention, along with that of everyone else in the bar. Looking through the crowd she spotted Brady standing near the bar, an explosion of broken glass at his feet along with the pooling foam of a beer.

 

“Whoa!” said Brady, a drunken and stupid look on his face. “Party foul!”

 

Carey rolled her eyes as the bartender rushed to his side.

 

“Hurry and clean this up,” said Brady, his voice now taking on a slur. “You know how much these shoes cost? I don’t want to be standing in shitty beer all night.”

 

The bartender quickly wiped up the glass and beer, hurrying away from Brady as fast as she could. Carey looked around at the other partygoers to see if any of them were going to say anything about the state that Brady was in, but no one said a word. Carey realized that they were almost all about as drunk as he was.

 

She wanted to leave; she wanted to call a cab and get back to her parents’ house as soon as she could, to sleep in her old room and do nothing but cry and look at pictures of her and Owen on her phone. Standing in that bar, the jukebox music blasting on the speakers, the commotion of the partygoers all around her, Carey felt more alone than she could ever remember.

 

Turning her attention to the bar, she watched as Brady ordered another round of shots and passed them around to his friends. They toasted to one thing or another before downing them, and Carey realized that Brady was only going to get worse. She knew that if she was going to get home, now would be better than later, especially since going back with Brady would mean risking being in the car with him if he happened to wrap his car around a telephone pole.

 

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her nerves and approached Brady.

 

“Hey,” she said.

 

A beaming, drunken smile formed on his face, his eyes bleary and red.

 

“There’s my fucking girl,” he said, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. “Hey!”

 

He gathered the attention of everyone around him.

 

“Can you believe that this is the girl I’m gonna marry? Am I fuckin’ lucky or what!”

 

A cheer sounded from the partygoers.

 

“And show off that ring of yours!” he said, grabbing Carey’s hand much harder than she would’ve liked and holding it up. “They said three-months’ salary or some shit, but a girl like this, you gotta pull out all the stops!”

 

Then he pulled back his hand gave Carey a firm slap on the ass.

 

“Can’t wait to get at this,” he said, whispering into her ear. “I think tonight’s gonna be the night.”

 

Carey’s eyes went wide. There wasn’t a thing less appealing to her at that moment than sleeping with Brady. Just the thought of his drunken, naked body flopping on top of her was enough to make her feel like she might vomit right then and there.

 

“Maybe,” she said. “But I really need to get home now. I’m just so worn out from today.”

 

Brady stepped back and looked at her through squinted eyes.

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, his tone hostile. “We’re only at the first bar; we got a whole night of partying ahead of us. And you just want to leave now?”

 

“I don’t know what it is,” said Carey. “I think I might be getting sick or something.”

 

“Sick, tired,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s always fucking something with you. I do all of this, just for you, and all you can do is complain.”

 

Before Carey had a chance to react, Brady’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

 

“Fine,” he said. “Get out of here. But you’d better learn to get your attitude right; I’m not gonna be marrying some woman who can’t provide what I need.”

 

He dropped her wrist from his hand and turned back to the bar. Carey took her opportunity and rushed out of the bar. Back in the cool evening air, she felt immediately better. She pulled out her phone and called an Uber, eagerly awaiting its arrival so she could go home and cry more bitter tears into her pillow.

 

Pacing back and forth, the parking lot gravel crunching under her feet, Carey decided to pass the time by looking at pictures of her and Owen. She knew that she was running a risk, that if she was caught by one of the partygoers or, God forbid, Brady, there’d be hell to pay. But she didn’t care; she needed some reminder of a time in her life when she wasn’t so miserable, so trapped.

 

Pulling up the photo album of her and Owen, she swiped through the pictures, a smile forming on her face as she thought of happier times. There was a photo of her and Owen back at the waterfall that he’d shown her on their first date, a photo of them out to dinner, and various other pictures. Carey went through them all, tears forming in her eyes as she considered just what she’d thrown away.

 

Owen might not’ve had the money that Brady did, but he did love her, and she loved him. But now there was no going back; she’d made her decision and now she had to live with it for the rest of her life.

 

Before she could give the matter more thought, the bar door yanked open, the music from inside disturbing Carey’s silence.

 

It was Brady.

 

Carey quickly hid her phone behind her back, hoping he wouldn’t see it.

 

“There you are,” he said, walking towards her with a drunken stumble. “I wanna talk to you.”

 

“About what, Brady?” asked Carey impatiently.

 

He closed the distance between her and him until he was only a few inches from her face.

 

“I want to know why you and I haven’t fucked.”

 

The words were like razor-sharp ice. His breath was heavy with whiskey and beer, and his eyes were narrowed menacingly.

 

“We’ve already fucked,” he said. “Or do you not remember? And now, here you are, little Miss Good Girl, coming back to town like she’s some fucking church girl who can’t believe that the man she’s marrying would want to touch her.”

 

He grabbed her wrist again, this time squeezing it tight.

 

“I’m about to give you everything,” he said. “I’m about to give you a beautiful home, more money than you know what to do with, and a life that other women would kill for. But you can’t even give me the one thing I want. What’s the fucking deal, Carey? You think you’re too good for me now that you’re some prissy artist with a master’s?”

 

“Let me go,” said Carey, her voice small. “You’re hurting me.”

 

“I won’t let go until you tell me that tonight’s going to be the night.”

 

Carey couldn’t believe what was happening. She’d known that Brady had this edge to him, but she’d never seen it come out so forcefully, and with such rage behind it. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, anything that might get him to let her go.

 

“And what the hell is in your other hand?” he demanded, reaching behind her back.

 

Carey wasn’t quick enough to put her phone back in her pocket before Brady snatched it out of her hand and brought the screen close to his face. Terror building in her stomach, she watched as Brady’s expression twisted in anger as he realized just what he was looking at.

 

“Who the fuck is this tattooed freak?” he demanded, holding up the phone like the damning piece of evidence it was. “Some piece of shit loser you met in town?”

 

“No,” said Carey. “It’s not that!”

 

“Just how stupid do you think I am, huh?” he said.

 

Then he raised the phone into the air and threw it down hard on the ground, the device shattering into several pieces. Carey looked at the remains of the phone in shock.

 

But before she could say a word, the growling of a motorcycle sounded in the distance, growing louder by the second. Moments later, Carey and Brady were in the middle of the glow of headlights; Carey raised her hand in front of her face to block the light.

 

“Let her go. Now.”

 

The voice was stern and uncompromising—Carey recognized it instantly. It was Owen.

 

“What the fuck?” exclaimed Brady, trying to gather his bearings and figure out just what was going on.

 

Carey watched as Owen stepped off of the bike and stepped in front of the headlight, his powerful silhouette outlined.

 

“You heard me, asshole. Let the girl go.”

 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” asked Brady, his voice taking on his typical entitled tone.

 

“I’m the guy who’s gonna break your wrist if you don’t let go of her, right now.”

 

Carey did her best to break free from Brady’s grasp, but it was no good. Owen killed the lights to the bike, allowing Brady to get a good look at his face.

 

“Wait a minute,” said Brady, pointing to the pieces of the broken phone on the ground. “You’re the fucker from the pictures!”

 

He dropped Carey’s hand and formed two tight fists.

 

“You’re a dead man,” he said. “You put your hands on my fiancée, and I’m gonna make sure you know just how big of a goddamn mistake you made.”

 

With that, he rushed towards Owen, raising his fists as he did. With surprising speed, he swung a fist through the air, connecting with Owen’s jaw. A dull thud sounded out, and Owen staggered backward a few steps.

 

That was the only blow Brady would land, however.

 

Owen rushed towards Brady, clobbering him right in the side of the face with a mean fist, sending Brady staggering backward and falling onto his rear. Brady took a moment to gather himself before getting back onto his feet and going in for another attack. He tried for another punch, but Owen was ready this time. He deftly dodged Brady’s attack, letting him fly past him harmlessly. Brady tripped as he ran, falling onto the pavement and scrambling to his feet.

 

Owen moved towards him with lightning-quick speed, sending a sharp jab through the air that smashed into the side of Brady’s jaw. Brady spit up blood, clearly beaten. But Owen seemed to have been possessed by some sort of animal rage, as though nothing was going to stop him from punishing Brady for harming the women he loved.

 

Seeing the blood on the ground, however, brought the memory of the night of the brawl back into Carey’s mind with stark clarity. She remembered the way Owen had pounded the other biker into the dirt, beating him within an inch of his life. She wanted Brady punished, but not like this.

 

Bending over, Owen grabbed Brady by the collar with one hand and formed the other into a fist that he raised above his head. But before he could deliver the blow, Carey shouted out, “Wait!”

 

Owen turned his eyes to Carey, waiting for her to speak.

 

“You’ve done enough,” she said. “I don’t want this to go any further.”

 

Owen stared at her for a long moment, as if deciding just what to do. Finally, he let go of Brady, letting him drop onto the gravel like a sack of rice.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I saw that he was hurting you and I just lost control.”

 

Carey’s eyes flicked all over Owen’s body, as if carefully taking in the sight of each square inch of him and committing it to memory.

 

“It’s … okay,” she said. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

 

Looking over Owen’s shoulder, she watched as Brady, groaning, struggled to his feet.

 

“I’ve … seen what you’re capable of,” she said. “And I don’t ever want to see it again.”

 

“Is that what this was all about?” he asked. “The life that I lead?”

 

“Let’s not talk about it here,” Carey said.

 

Owen nodded somberly. “Then let’s ride.”

 

Taking Carey by the hand, he led her to the bike. They both climbed on, and Owen gunned the engine. A crowd had gathered in front of the bar by this point, and Carey watched as a few of Brady’s friends ran to his side and helped him to his feet.

 

Carey wrapped her arms around Owen as he pulled out of the parking lot, the wind blowing through her hair as they rode. She realized that, at that moment, she was right where she wanted to be.