DRINKS WITH RED

My heart thuds in my chest as the line begins to ring, dread coursing through my body as I take a deep breath. This is my last call, and the hardest one yet. Though, I’m not entirely sure why. I shouldn’t be feeling anything except joy and excitement, but those two emotions aren’t even in the same stratosphere.

Christopher asked me to marry him, and I said yes. We’ve only been dating a few months, and I fear he may be rushing it a bit because he’s jealous of Eric. But I have my own reasons for rushing into this. I can’t stand to be in Tennessee anymore—always feeling the need to look over my shoulder and worrying if anyone knows what happened that night.

“Jules! Hey, I was just thinking about you.” Eric’s cheerful tone cause my stomach to flutter. Truth is, Christopher is right to be jealous of Eric. He’s where my heart lies—always has been. “Are you free this weekend? I’m hoping we can catch a movie or something.”

I’d love to see Eric, but I haven’t been able to face him since the night I called him drunk and upset. There isn’t much I remember about that night, and what I do remember I wish I didn’t. Not only had I been a sobbing mess—thanks to a run-in with the devil—I’m pretty sure I’d hit on him only to be turned down. Eric being Eric hasn’t mentioned a word to me about any of it. Not about my crying, being drunk, or hitting on him. Lord, I’m such a mess.

“Uh, maybe.” Pressing my lips together to hold in an uneven breath, I close my eyes and inhale deep through my nose.

It hasn’t been easy telling anyone I’m marrying Chris and moving to Pennsylvania. No one supports my decision. Lori even called me stupid for willingly separating myself from all my friends and family to live with someone I “barely know.” And perhaps she’s right—but she also doesn’t know my reasoning for making this choice.

Wiping my clammy hands down my jean clad thighs, I draw in a deep breath, willing my racing heart to calm.

Why does telling Eric I’m getting married seem so scary? Why do I feel so guilty? We’ve never been anything more than friends. If he had any interest in me, he wouldn’t have turned me down when I threw myself at him. So, why does it feel like I’m about to lose him forever?

“I’m actually calling with some news,” I tell him, feeling as if there’s a noose around my neck getting tighter with each word. My hands are shaking so badly, I’m having a hard time holding the phone.

“Oh yeah? What’s your news?”

“Well…” I begin, pausing to clear my throat, “I’m getting married.”

The silence that follows doesn’t do anything to help calm my nerves. The only sound on the other end of the line is his breathing, which is getting heavy and louder by the second. Eric has never really hidden the fact that he doesn’t like Christopher, though he’s never outright said it either. I guess it was stupid of me to hope he’d at least pretend to be supportive.

“I’m sorry,” he sneers, “did you say you’re getting married?”

“Yes.”

My answer is met with more nothingness, then a long sigh and something shattering in the background.

“Eric?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he clips. “You caught me off guard here. I’m not sure what you’re looking for me to say to that.”

The lump in my throat grows unbearable as a tear slides down my face.

“Congratulations?” I whisper.

“I’m sorry, Jules, I can’t do that. I think you’re making a big mistake.”

“Eric, ple—”

“Don’t do it!” The desperation in his plea is gut wrenching. “I’m begging you, Jules, don’t marry that prick.”

Tears fall freely as I struggle to keep myself together.

“Eric, this is what I want. Please try to understand that.”

“Do you love him?”

“What kind of question is that?” I deflect.

My stomach churns with hatred for myself. Do I love Christopher? I don’t know. Love has nothing to do with me choosing this path. I’m in love with the idea of feeling free again—unburdened by the pain I’ve felt over the past year of my life.

“The kind you seem to be avoiding.”

“Of course I love him,” I lie. “Why else would I be marrying him?”

He lets out another harsh breath before giving me the silent treatment again.

“The wedding is on the fifteenth of next month, and I’ll be moving after.” Pulling the phone away from my face, I hiccup a suppressed sob, then take a calming breath before putting it back to my ear. “You’ll come to the wedding, right? Please promise me you’ll be there. This is really important to me.”

“Okay, Jules,” he sighs, his voice low and dripping with defeat. “I’ll be there.”

January 2nd

“So, am I allowed to ask how old you’ll be on Sunday?” Roxy teases.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I smirk before taking another sip of my drink. She seems to be a bit younger than me, early twenties I’m guessing, but my age isn’t something that bothers me.

“You can if you’re brave enough,” I retort, placing my glass back on the small cocktail napkin.

We both laugh, and it feels good. My relaxed state is probably due in part to the liquor streaming through my veins, but I feel at ease around her.

When Roxy asked if she could take me out to get a drink for my birthday tonight, I wasn’t too keen on the idea. Being out and about around town still makes me uncomfortable, but she’s fun and sweet, so I didn’t want to disappoint her.

Besides, since things are still awkward with Eric, it’s probably a good idea to befriend her.

“I’ll be twenty-eight,” I admit, readjusting myself on the uncomfortable high-top chair as I focus my attention on our surroundings.

The Lounge is fairly new to Murphy. It’s only been open for about a year, and the atmosphere is so different from the small-town bars in Smyth. The modern theme makes everything look so clean and shiny—crisp, sharp lines of metal, wood, and black leather. It’s a nice place, but it’s not one of my safe zones. I don’t know who might frequent this bar.

“Do you have any special plans for your birthday?” Roxy asks, bringing my attention back to her.

I nod. “My sister and some girlfriends are taking me out tomorrow, then I’m spending Sunday with my family.” Groaning, I roll my eyes then pick my drink back up, taking a big gulp.

“Are you not close to your family?” Roxy lifts her eyebrows as she leans forward. “Or do you not get along?”

I know she’s only trying to get to know me, but my relationship with my family can be a sore subject for me. We didn’t have the best relationship before I married Christopher, but they’ve been increasingly tense since I returned.

“They can be a little overbearing sometimes,” I confess, my eyes following my finger as it runs over the rim of my glass. “I guess I got used to being a little more on my own after I moved away. It’s just going to take some time to readjust.” Lifting my eyes to meet hers again, I give her a weak smile.

“I get that.” Briefly looking over at the entrance again, disappointment crosses her features. She’s been keeping an eye on that door all night, and whoever she’s watching for is clearly letting her down. “Okay, I’ve got to ask about Eric,” she says, smirking as her eyes land on me again.

“What about him?” Eyeing her over my tumbler, I finish off my drink, not surprised by her curiosity. If anything, I’m shocked she made it this long. She’s been trying to get the scoop on Eric and me from day one.

“I asked him to come here tonight, but he didn’t want to.”

“Why would he?” I shrug, keeping my gaze on my now empty glass as I sit it back on the table. I’d made a fool of myself in front of Eric…again. Things had been going so well between us at the wedding, for a moment, I thought maybe we could be friends again, but he’d shut that idea down quickly.

“I don’t know. Why wouldn’t he?” She sulks, sitting back in her chair as my eyes lift. “I can’t figure the two of you out.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to figure out,” I lie. “He’s my boss. That’s it.”

She studies my face, her eyes narrowed and mouth puckered as she hums.

“Whatever you say. I’m going to go get another drink. Want one?”

My head swims at the thought of consuming any more alcohol. I’ve already had several Amaretto Sours, and it’s time to cut myself off.

“I’m good for now. Maybe a water, though.”

“You’ve got it,” she chirps, hopping up from the table.

“Oh!” I call after her. “I’m going to go use the restroom while you’re gone.”

She nods before taking off toward the bar. As I make my way to the bathroom, the overconsumption hits me. My spinning head throws my balance off, and I’m surprised when I make it to the bathroom without stumbling.

In hopes my journey back will go more smoothly, I take my time, trying to gather my faculties again, even using a wet paper towel to cool myself off. When I’m finally feeling a little more normal, I leave the restroom.

A startled gasp escapes me as I turn the corner in the small hallway, my heart dropping and stomach knotting as I nearly crash into Jim Engels—the devil himself. Standing only mere inches from him, I beg my legs to work, trying to force myself to run the other way, but his presence has a paralyzing effect on me. It always has. I curse internally, hating myself for being such easy prey for him. My hands tremble as my anxiety skyrockets, and I clench them into fists, not wanting to show him any signs of weakness.

Gray is sprinkled throughout his short, perfectly gelled dirty blond hair and well-manicured facial hair making him look much older, but his dark sinister eyes are exactly the same. Most of the holes in his ears are empty now, and his eyebrow ring is gone as well, but his wardrobe looks the same as it had ten years ago—a hockey t-shirt and jeans.

“Well, well…” His lips curve into a smile as his eyes travel down my body and back up, making me feel overly exposed and dirty. “Julianna.” The sound of his voice and smell of his cologne make my stomach churn, all the contents inside threatening to come out. “It’s been a while, but you’re as beautifully tempting as I remember. It’s a shame you never stuck around after our night together. The two of us could’ve had a lot of fun.”

My lip snarls at his description of what happened—of what he did to me.

When he moves to invade my space more, I back away, but still find myself unable to flee. My eyes are glued to him, watching even the slightest movements, terrified he might try to touch me.

“What the hell do you want, Jim?” I bite out, sounding much braver than I’m feeling, my drunken state making me a little bolder.

“So, what? We aren’t friends anymore?”

“We were never friends.” The tremble from my hands spreads throughout my entire body.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. I thought we moved past this.”

About a month before I married Christopher, I ran into Jim at a hockey game—the last one I’ve ever gone to. He apologized, but not for what he did that night. He merely said he was sorry for never calling me after, acting as if his actions hadn’t destroyed me.

“Why? Because you apologized? Your apology doesn’t mean shit to me.”

A sly, creepy smile inches across his face, and I gather my wits, using the courage I dug out from deep within myself. Done being the victim, I skirt around him to make my escape, shoving him aside with my elbow. His fingers wrap around my arm in a bruising grip and he jerks me back. I stumble at the force, icy panic shooting through my veins as the feeling of being trapped resurfaces. My pulse races from spiked adrenaline as my survival instincts kick in, every detail from that night replaying in my mind in vivid clarity.

Fear slices through me, his hold on my arm reminding me of the pressure I’d felt as he held me down. Way too quickly I realized there was no way I could over power him and keep him from hurting me. Tears begin to fill my eyes as I struggle to get out of his hold, but he only laughs at my efforts.

Weaving through the crowd, I make my way to the back of the bar where the bathrooms are located. Levi and I arrived as Julianna was getting up from the table, and I’d watched her clumsily head in this direction. When we found Roxy, I grilled her about how many drinks Jules had consumed, then lectured her about letting her go to the bathroom alone. Watching for her like a hawk, I waited until I could no longer stand it before deciding she’d been gone too long.

Entering the hallway, the faint sound of a woman squealing has my eyes darting to a man at the end of it. He has a woman pushed up against the wall, caging her in, one hand gripping her arm and the other resting against the wall beside her. I charge toward him, picking up my speed as soon as the woman’s face comes into view. The sheer terror etched in Jules’ features elicits a murderous rage inside me. It boils my blood as it courses through me, and my vision goes red.

“Get your hands off her and back the fuck away,” I command, my threating tone causing my voice to echo through the hall.

Their heads snap over in my direction, and her face pales as if she’s upset to see me, pain crossing her features before her eyes drop to the floor. Her reaction throws me, giving me pause. Had I misread the situation? No. This guy is clearly not someone she wants anything to do with. It’s written all over her face, the panic in her eyes, the stiffness of her body.

“Whoa, man,” the creep says, releasing Julianna and lifting his hands as he takes a step back. “We were only talking. She’s an old fling.”

Julianna’s eyes shoot up, a tear streaming down her face, and I push all confusion over why she looks embarrassed instead of relieved out of my mind. I don’t give a fuck. He doesn’t touch my Jules like that—ever. The fucker smirks, and my fists curl, but I focus on making sure she’s okay.

As I take a step toward her, she dodges me, sliding past before hurrying back toward the bar. Bringing my attention back to the asshole, I straighten my spine, making myself as tall and threatening as possible as I invade his personal space. “I don’t know who the hell you are,” I seethe, my fists balling as my breathing grows heavier, “but if I ever see you near her again, I’ll end you.”

“Sure, man.” He quirks an eyebrow at me. “No problem.”

Resisting the urge to kick the shit out of this arrogant jerk, I push my fury aside and run after Jules, my need to make sure she’s okay overpowering everything else.

“Hey, wait a second,” I call once I’ve almost reached her. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” she clips, refusing to look at me as she continues her efforts to get away.

Jogging to get ahead of her, I stop right in her path, forcing her to stand still. My chest tightens when I catch a glimpse of sorrow on her face before she drops her head to shield it. I want to reach out to touch her in comfort, but after what I witnessed back there, I’m almost afraid to.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She looks up at me through hooded eyes. “Since when do you give a damn anyway?”

I wince, her words feeling like a punch to the gut. How can she possibly think I don’t give a damn about her, or I wouldn’t care if she were hurting? Clenching my jaw, I push my own hurt aside and force my attention back on her.

“Why don’t you let me give you a ride home?” I suggest, desperate to get her out of here before that asshole comes back. She’s clearly shaken, her hands trembling, her eyes unfocused.

“No thanks. I’m here with Roxy.” She shakes her head and straightens her back before pushing past me and walking away. Groaning, I throw my hands up in the air and let them drop before following behind her.

“Why are you being difficult?”

“Why are you even here?” she retorts. “Roxy said you didn’t want to come.”

“I changed my mind.” She glares at me, and I shrug as we arrive back at the table. “Look,” I sigh, pointing over to Red and Levi, who are playing a round of darts. “Roxy and Levi are having a good time. I don’t think either of them will be ready to go any time soon. Please, let me take you home.”

Her glare returns to me, her eyes narrowing and mouth setting into a hard line. Without another word, she turns and begins to make her way to the exit. Shuffling to stay right behind her, I pull my phone out to send Red a text letting her know I’m taking Jules home.

Neither of us attempt to speak during the short walk to my car. Once we’re seated inside, Julianna leans her head back on the headrest and closes her eyes, making it clear she wants to continue the silence. My eyes don’t leave her as I start the car. I take her in, at first to be sure she isn’t going to pass out or get sick on me, then allow myself to snap a mental picture of her.

People often talk about falling out of love with someone and I call bullshit. It isn’t possible to stop loving someone if you ever truly loved them. I’ve tried. This woman has shattered my heart more than once, and I’d still go to the ends of the earth to protect her—that will never change.

Ignoring the heaviness in my chest, I pry my eyes away from her and pull out of the parking lot. We make it another five minutes down the road before she finally speaks.

“He was lying. Things weren’t like that between us, but I can’t tell you about him,” she says, her voice so weak, it’s a mere whisper. “Please don’t ask me to.” Her eyes are still closed when I look over at her out the corner of my eye, a single tear rolling down her face.

Her plea only makes me determined to figure out who that guy is and what the hell he did to her. She’s always been so strong, but tonight, right now, she’s fragile in a way I’ve never seen her, and maybe even a little broken.