Текст книги "Out Of The Blue"
Автор книги: Carina Adams
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Chapter Seven
~ Molly ~
I smiled at Pete, the tall, dark and handsome man who had joined me, beyond thankful that I had found someone like him to spend my evening with, and leaned a little closer so I could hear what he had to say over the God awful music that played through the speakers. When he’d first sat down on the stool next to me, I’d offered a polite smile to the cute stranger in the khakis and a polo, and turned back to my phone, waiting for Lia to come find me. Thankfully, Pete hadn’t taken the not so subtle hint and started up a conversation anyway.
I wasn’t sure how long we’d been talking, but I’d sipped my way through three Angry Orchards, and was now working on a glass of water. I’d learned that Pete worked the door at the club, and had only gotten into the party because he and his buddy were supposed to be working. At the last minute, his boss had sent him home, but one of the roadies had invited him in. I was so glad they had. He was funny and attractive, and the perfect solution to my current long walk in the Sahara.
Until he became a mirage.
I didn’t see the woman until she was right next to me, forcing her way between us, screaming, “You cheating piece of shit!”
I pulled away in surprise. He’d told me he was single. How awesome that I’d believed him.
It was an even bigger surprise when I realized that she wasn’t talking to Pete. No, her eyes never left me, implying I was the scum she’d addressed. I made the mistake of looking at Pete, hoping that he didn’t actually know this bucket of crazy. He avoided my gaze, staring at the drink in his hand as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Don’t you fucking look at him, you sleazy ass skank!” She was screaming again, this time, stepping into my face. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet? What’s it gonna take for you to leave another woman’s man alone?”
Of course. Fucking typical. I’m at the bar, minding my own goddamn business when he approached me, but somehow, it’s my fault. Once again, the cheater is never at fault. Stupid assbackward society.
I held up my hands in surrender. “Oh, the prince is all yours, sweet pea.”
Her face turned bright red and she fumbled over her words. “He’s—”
“He’s what?” I interrupted. “A cheater? A lying sack of shit? And most likely the proud owner of a small dick?”
“You stuck up bitch!” she howled. “He’s—”
Before she could tell me exactly what she thought Pete was, a mountain of a man moved between us, his voice calm and controlled. “Ma’am, I need you to take a step back.”
“Fuck off, monkey man. This is between me and that whore.”
“Back away. Now,” Mike commanded. I hated when he used that tone on me, and knew that the woman was also getting the death glare.
“Eat shit.”
I snorted at her reply. Mike blocked my view so I couldn’t see what was happening, but at least they were yelling loud enough for me to hear. Then, I realized that someone had turned the music down and everyone around us had begun to watch the showdown—most had their cameras out.
So much for a boring night.
“Time for you to leave.” Mike moved slightly—giving me enough room to finally squeeze off my stool—and grabbed Pete’s incredibly lucky girlfriend by the arm to move her out of the way.
Nothing in my life could ever be simple, though.
“Hey!” Pete was now screaming, his face scrunched in anger. “Don’t you fucking touch her!” He flung his arm out, grabbing a fistful of Mike’s suit jacket, and tried to yank him backward. Pete wasn’t nearly as strong as he thought he was, though, and the only thing he managed to do was become the focus of one very pissed off bodyguard.
So much happened in the next few seconds that if I hadn’t been there to see, I would have sworn it was all fake. The woman took full advantage when Mike turned his back on her, and lunged at me, shoving my back into the hard edge of the bar. Her hands were in my hair, pulling at it painfully, before my mind registered what was happening.
Before I could fight back, she was wrenched off me, and pushed to the side. Pete chose that moment to throw a sucker punch at the side of Mike’s head. Mike turned, landing a punch of his own, following it with another. The girlfriend grabbed a bottle from the bar and flew at Mike. Nate came out of nowhere, knocking the weapon from her hand, and she attacked him the same way she had me—grabbing a handful of hair and smacking him across his face repeatedly.
Nate was doing his best to block little miss crazy, but I knew he would never hit a girl, and she was full of piss and vinegar and not backing down. I didn’t think. Not about the cameras pointing my way, not about tomorrow’s headlines, and not about my own safety. I just wanted her to get the fuck away from my friends.
I didn’t fight like a girl. I never had. When you lived the way I had in my teens and early twenties, with no one to stand up for you, you learn that fists and elbow and knees were the way to go.
Her nails dug into my skin, no doubt leaving gouges as I stepped in front of Nate and became her target. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t expecting Molly Ray to haul off and punch her in the nose, or the right hook to her chin that followed. She stumbled back, and I followed, stalking her, waiting for her to try to hit me again. She screamed, threw out insults that would have made even me cry, but at that moment, I didn’t care.
Noah and Reb burst through the gathered crowd, followed by Sam and the rest of the ‘Bama Boys. I’d barely registered their presence when arms came around me, lifting me off the ground. Panicked, I kicked out, aiming for the shins of my attacker.
“For fucks sake, Mols!” Nate snapped in my ear. “Calm the fuck down. It’s over.”
I blinked, clearing my eyes. It was over. Pete and his girlfriend were escorted away, hopefully out of the club. Everyone else started to turn away, realizing that the night’s entertainment was over.
Mike spoke to Sam before turning and stomping in my direction. As soon as he reached me, he leaned down to look at me, two fingers forcing my chin up. “What in the fuck was that?”
I jerked my head out of his grasp and glared back. “Apparently the douche canoe had a girlfriend. One that he forgot to mention.”
He only rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for clearing that up, genius. I’m talking about you getting into a barroom brawl.”
God, he was so annoying. “You’re welcome, asshole.”
He shook his head once, eyes moving to my cheek. The damn thing stung, and I knew she got me good. I closed my eyes for a second, hoping to gather strength. If it was as bad as it felt, there wasn’t enough concealer in the world to cover it. Fuck!
When I opened my eyes, I found Mike peering down at me with worry in his eyes, his hands closing gently around my head as his fingers worked their way through my hair, massaging my skull. “She hit you?”
I shook my head. “No. Just the scratches.” I moved and pain shot through my back. “I hit my back pretty hard though.”
He cursed under his breath. “Okay. Let’s get to the hotel and I’ll look at it.”
I shook my head. “I need another drink.”
“Maybe back at the hotel. Right now, we need to get out of here.”
“Fuck, I need to call Lia.” I reached to pull the phone out of my back pocket when his hand stopped mine.
“No. Let her sleep.”
“She needs to do damage control before it’s too late.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he assured me. “Let’s get you to the hotel first and then figure the rest out.”
Like a well-oiled machine, Sam pulled one of the Suburbans around back, and Mike guided Nate and me into the backseat before climbing in the front. No one said anything on the ride back to the hotel; instead, Mike and Nate spent the time on their phones, texting or emailing. There’d been plenty of nights like this before, when a fight had broken out at a bar and we’d had to sneak out the back to avoid cameras. Usually, it was Nate, or one of the guys who had caused trouble, though, and I’d had to leave because I was collateral damage.
This was my first time in the naughty seat since I’d started performing with the band. My hand hurt, the side of my face stung, and my back felt like I’d fallen down a couple flights of stairs. A tense energy floated around the truck, putting me on edge.
Nate kissed me on the cheek when the elevator opened on my floor, and gave Mike a silent nod. Mike didn’t respond, instead holding out a hand in front of him so that I could go first. I wasn’t even going to bother with a bath tonight. I was going to find a bottle of Tylenol, down three tablets, and crawl into bed.
Mike had different ideas. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered as he flipped the lock on our door.
“Come on, Mikey. You’re not even going to buy a girl a drink first?”
He walked into the little kitchen area and turned on the faucet, completely ignoring the sass. Grabbing a cloth from one of the drawers, he held it under the water. “Mols. Shirt off.” When I still didn’t attempt to remove my clothes, he rolled his eyes, sighed, and then motioned me to him. I went, but only because I was too worn out to argue.
As soon as I got close enough, he grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the counter, moving in between my legs. My breath caught at the intimacy of the move. When his hands slid from my hips up the side of my torso and under my arms, my heart started to pound. Never taking his eyes off mine, he picked up my arms, holding them straight above my head, held both of my wrists with one hand while the other slid back down my side, skirting around my breast, until it reached the bottom of my shirt.
I swear he even stopped breathing for a moment as he worked the difficult zipper up, incredibly slowly. Every few seconds, his fingertips would brush against my naked skin, causing goose bumps to erupt all over my body. He lowered my arms as soon as the shirt was unzipped, and, eyes still on mine, unbuttoned the shoulder straps quicker than I’d ever been able to do it. With a small tug, the fabric barrier was gone.
His eyes drifted down, as if by their own will, and he swallowed audibly. I didn’t need to glance down to know that he was getting an eye full. I’d worn my favorite bra tonight, the one that gave me just enough coverage where I needed it, but pushed me up and out, showcasing the one feature of mine that all men seemed to enjoy. The girls did look fantastic in it.
His eyes were heavy when he glanced back up, full of lust. For a few precious seconds, he stared at my lips, and I knew he wanted me to kiss him. My alcohol-induced buzz had worn off long ago, so I couldn’t blame my feelings on booze, but damn if I didn’t want him to lean over and press his lips to mine.
As soon as his eyes met mine, though, the spell was broken and he swore. “Fuck. You’re gonna have a wicked shinah.” His Maine accent slipped out and caused me to smile. Usually, he did his best to hide it, but every now and then, he sounded just like Lia. “She got your eye.”
The washcloth was warm, but it still made me cringe as he washed the wound from the outside corner of my eye almost to my mouth. “Maybe I should go get a tetanus shot,” I joked. “I don’t know where that cat has been.”
Mike nodded. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Are your shots up to date?”
I shook my head. “I was kidding, Mr. Serious. All I need is some pain pills and a bed.”
He dropped the cloth in the sink and turned my body slightly before poking and prodding my back. “It’s gonna be a nasty bruise,” was all he said before moving on to my hand. After ensuring each of my fingers still bent and my knuckles weren’t shattered, he gave me a nasty look. “Stay put.”
Seconds later, he came out of his room, carrying a white first aid kit, and even though I insisted I didn’t need any further treatment, he disinfected my face, broke an instant ice pack for my hand, and gave me two Tylenol.
“My hero,” I muttered as he lifted me off the counter and grabbed his vibrating phone.
Giving me a wink, he patted my ass twice. “Now, go pack all your shit.”
“What? Why?”
He glanced up from his cell phone just long enough to give me an annoyed look. “We’re leaving in ten.”
“That’s not an answer, Mike!”
He shot off a quick text before tucking his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “A video from the bar was just uploaded. Tomorrow morning this place is going to be swarming with photographers. We’re leaving before they realize where we are.”
That made sense. “See? Was that so hard?”
“It would be a helluva lot easier if you’d just do what you’re told.”
I stuck out my tongue. “Never gonna happen, buddy.”
“You’ve got like eight minutes, kid. Then we’re leaving. With or without your shit.”
I hurried into my room, pushing my pants off as soon as the door closed and folding them into my already packed bag with the heels I’d worn. I’d left out yoga pants and a comfy oversized tee shirt to sleep in, along with sandals to wear onto the bus, and I put them on before grabbing my makeup case from the bathroom. I liked to sleep in the mornings, so I was always packed and ready to go the night before we were due to get back on the road. It gave me more time to sleep, and made it much less hectic. Grabbing my bag, I grunted a little and winced at the pain in my back when I realized how heavy it was, but I made it to the door before he did.
Chapter Eight
~ Mike ~
I needed to get her the hell out of here, and I needed to get her out now. Dicknose photographers would be invading in twenty minutes. We needed to be on the road before they pulled up to the hotel.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out as I walked into my bedroom.
“Tell me you’re on the road,” Lee demanded before I could greet her.
“Give me ten and we will be.”
“This is a fucking nightmare.”
I nodded as I grabbed my crap and shoved it into my bag.
“How bad is it?”
“Lee,” I growled, “I’m not a PR manager, or even a fucking manager, but I’d say if we’re sneaking our girl out in the middle of the night to avoid the fucktard press, then it’s pretty fucking bad. Wouldn’t you?”
“Mikey”—her tone scolding—“I know how bad the business side of it is. I’m asking about Molly. How bad are her injuries?”
“She’ll be fine.” Tipping my head, I braced the phone between my ear and shoulder as I rounded the bed and stepped into the small bathroom, sweeping everything off the counter into my open arms. “Well,” I corrected, “she’s got some bad scratches and will have some bruises in a few hours. Hopefully most of it will be healed by the next concert.” I dropped my toiletries on top of my clothes and zipped my bag.
Lee swore under her breath. “You’ll text me when you get wherever you’re staying?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t bother to say goodbye, shoving my phone back into my jeans and shouldering my duffle.
When I stepped out of the room, I was surprised to see Mols waiting. “Wow, you were quick.”
She grinned. “What took you so long? I even had time to change.” She motioned to her outfit with one hand. “So not only are you grumpy and bossy, you’re slow, too.”
I ignored her, taking one last look around the room. “Grab that”—I pointed to her flimsy gold top that she’d worn for the concert—“and let’s blow this joint.”
I took her bag and led her out of the room, down the hall away from the elevators, and to the stairs. Seeing her confusion, I shrugged. “The trucks are parked out back, and this way leads right to ‘em.”
A few minutes later, we were buckled in, driving through the parking lot. When we made it to the main road without seeing another vehicle, I sighed, releasing some of the tension I’d been holding in.
Molly kicked off her flip-flops, tucking her feet under her as she settled in the passenger seat. “So, where are we headed?”
“New York.”
“New York City?”
“Upstate.”
“Really?” She slapped a hand against her thigh, making me turn to look at her. “You do realize that New York is a big state, right? Upstate can mean anywhere north of Orange County.”
“There’s an Orange County in New York?”
Molly snorted at me. “Uh, yeah.” She shook her head. “Like the show, Orange Country Choppers?”
“Weren’t they from California?”
She laughed. “No.” I couldn’t see her eyes, but I had no doubt she was rolling them at me. “Do you have any idea where we’re going?”
“It’s in the GPS,” I said and shrugged. Sam had entered all the information for me while I took Mols upstairs to get her ready.
“Okay.” I could hear the frustration in her voice. “How about a venue?”
“Saratoga Performing Arts Center.” She inhaled sharply, as if it was something she hadn’t wanted to hear. “Have you performed there before?”
She shook her head quickly. “No.” There was a long pause, both of us lost in our own thoughts. “Do we have reservations somewhere?”
“No. The concert isn’t until Tuesday, so we just need to find somewhere to lay low for a few days.”
Silence filled the vehicle again. “We could go to my place.”
“Your place?” I scoffed. “Mols, I’m not driving down to Tennessee just to drive back up here again in a few days.”
“I meant my place in New York.” Her voice was low, almost as if she didn’t want me to hear her.
I turned my eyes from the road to stare at her. In all the time I’d known her, I’d never known she had a place other than the run-down townhouse just outside of Nashville. “You have a place in New York City?” Even I could hear the surprise in my question. Molly hated big cities and always seemed to get lost.
“No,” she snapped, obviously annoyed. “I have a place in Keene, a little over an hour north of Saratoga. We can crash there for a few days.”
I thought about our lack of other options. It would be better to get her completely away from the public eye. I wasn’t sure how Lee planned to twist the bar fight story, but if the paps managed to snag a picture of Molly without makeup, it would be hard to deny anything happened.
Maybe being back at her house, surrounded by her things, was exactly what she needed. I reached out, turning the TomTom screen toward her. “Will you change the route?”
Before she could alter the path of the GPS, she reached over and tapped me on the arm in quick pats. “Hey, hey, hey. Stop at the gas station.”
“Need a potty break already?”
“We need road trip food, you ass. We won’t get there until the morning. And I don’t trust you enough to sleep while you’re driving. Food will keep me awake.”
“Good point.”
Almost a half hour and three stupid arguments later, we were back on the highway, junk food filling the backseat, Molly safe beside me. I don’t think I’d ever been happier to leave a store in my life, and I’d spent hours shopping with Courtney and Lee.
Even though it was almost one in the morning, the store had plenty of patrons in it. Most of whom stopped and stared at Mols, not because they recognized her, but because her face was beat to hell. From the looks I’d gotten, most of them believed I’d hurt her.
The very thought was laughable. I’d been raised right; I’d never lay a hand on a woman in anger. My gram would kill me if I even thought about it. Death by Gram’s hand would be in the most unpleasant way possible. I had no doubt.
But that’s not what I found so humorous about their assumptions. I can’t imagine a man trying to strike the woman next to me in anger. Hell yeah she liked to push buttons, and she never did what she was told, and some white-trash-taint-clown would probably take offense to that. I’d like to have a front row seat the night he decided to raise a hand to her, though. Molly would fucking wreck him.
“What are you chuckling about?” she asked around a mouthful of Pringles.
“Nothing.” I turned on the radio, surfing through the channels until I found “The Hand That Feeds.” This was music I could drive to.
The song wasn’t over when Molly reached out and hit the seek button.
“Hey!”
“You’re actually listening to this?” She sounded appalled.
“It’s Nine Inch Nails,” I explained. That was reason enough to listen. “That’s one of my favorite songs.”
“Hmmm. I’m surprised you listen to this kind of music.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“That I just assumed noise like that was beneath you.”
“Noise?” I was appalled. “Did you just call NIN noise?”
“I did. Because it is. How can you even understand what they’re saying?”
I turned the radio off so she could focus on the extremely important words I was about to say. “Trent Reznor is one of the greatest, if not the greatest composers of our time.”
“I don’t know who that is,” she admitted.
“I…” I was speechless. How did someone in her profession not know who in the hell the musical genius was? I shook my head. “Lead singer, songwriter, instrumentalist.”
“Well, maybe he should focus on writing the music and not singing it.”
“What?” I shook my head again, sure she was fucking with me. A glance her way proved that she didn’t have a smirk on her face, and instead, looked annoyed. “Nine Inch Nails,” I repeated.
She shrugged, not understanding. “I’m not saying he’s a bad lyricist. I’m saying it’s horrible music.”
My mouth fell open, not sure what to say to counter that bit of craziness. “Johnny Cash loved his songs enough to record some of them himself.”
“No,” Molly argued, waving a finger through the air. “The late, great, Johnny Cash recognized good lyrics. Then he recorded them himself to make them amazing songs.”
“Wow. You know he doesn’t just write the lyrics, right? He writes every note. For every instrument.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t.”
“I…” I stumbled over my words, not sure what I was trying to say. “You know what? Let’s just listen to music for a while.”
“Fine. But I get to pick.”
“No you don’t,” I argued. “I’m driving.”
“Exactly. Passenger gets to choose.”
“No. Driver’s choice. That way I’m not driving to whatever shit you pick that might put me to sleep.”
“I have never heard that rule before. Ever.”
“Fine, then why don’t you take a nap?”
“I’m not taking a damn nap!” she snapped at me. “You are the most infuriating person on the planet, you know that, right?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t even begin to compare to you.”
She growled, making me smile. “Fine. Whatever! Can you please put on something we’d both enjoy?”
“Jesus, you’ve been spending way too much time with Lee. You’re starting to sound like her.”
Molly laughed. “I’m taking that as a compliment, especially coming from you.”
I tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you comparing me to Red is not as insulting as you think it is.” She grabbed a package of Twinkies and tore it open, shoving half of one in her mouth before continuing. “How long have you known her?”
“Lee?” I reached across the console, snagging the other gooey yellow treat from her, happy to see she was eating without counting calories. “My whole life.”
“Wow. You guys must have some serious dirt on each other.”
I chuckled. “We do. I’m sure she has pictures I don’t want seen. Hell, I have pictures I don’t want seen.”
Pulling her legs onto the seat Indian style, she leaned back. “Tell me some stories.”
I shrugged. We had eight and a half more hours stuck in the car together, and obviously would never agree on music. As the miles of I-90 bled together, I told her stories, some I hadn’t thought about in years. We spent the next hour laughing about the crazy things that Lee and I had done as kids.
“When we were in second grade, my parents bought a new house on the other side of town. Lee and I were devastated because it was so much further away from hers. But every Friday night, Lee would take the bus with me and spend the night at my house. A few weeks in, we were sick of my new room, tired of my new house, and decided to swipe some of my dad’s tools and make a fort in the forest behind my house. It took us weeks, but we finally had this awesome little cabin.”
I laughed, remembering the ramshackle shack we were so proud of. “One afternoon, a week or so after we’d finished it, we decided we were going to spend the weekend in the cabin. Lee carried out our sleeping bags and all the shit she thought we needed to be comfortable while I ran to get food.
“I’d made it almost all the way to the cabin when I heard her yelling. She was lecturing me, telling me that I wasn’t scaring her. I had no clue what she was rambling on about. When I walked inside, she punched me. Accused me of sneaking around the cabin, trying to scare her, scratching the walls and shit. I swore I hadn’t and promised that I wouldn’t do that to her. She didn’t believe me.” I could still see her face, scrunched up and bright red from anger. “I had just dropped the food when the attack came.”
“Attack?”
I nodded, knowing she could see me in the dashboard lights. “Attack.”
“You were attacked?” She sounded horrified. “By who?”
“Arthur and Rocket. Psycho demon raccoons.”
“Raccoons?” Her concern had been replaced by doubt. “As in the cute and cuddly furry little animals?”
“Yeah, raccoons. But they’re not all cute and cuddly, Mols. Arthur and Rocket had giant fucking fangs”—I moved my index and middle finger up to my bottom lip—“and claws longer and sharper than a goddamned wolverine”—I held my curved index finger in her direction—“and glowing red eyes.”
“Glowing eyes?” The disbelief in her voice was loud and clear.
“Swear to Christ.” I glanced at her quickly, but couldn’t get a good look in the dark.
“Okay.” She snorted, obviously not believing a word. “So, what happened?”
“At first, I just stood there, scared out of my mind. They had barged in so quickly, and were walking around in circles, growling. I remember stepping in front of Lee, and she grabbed my hand. Then Arthur stood up on his back legs and growled”—I lowered my voice, doing my best demon impression—“‘Get out!’”
“He spoke? The raccoon with glowing red eyes spoke to you?”
“He did.”
“What did you do?”
“We did what anyone would do when a demon psycho raccoon told them to leave. We got the fuck out.” I smiled, remembering Lee. “Well, Lee grabbed the pillows and shoved them at me, and picked up the sleeping bags before turning and running out the door. I followed, trying not to piss my pants, terrified that they were following us. I fell down a coupla times; my mom was pissed when she saw how dirty the pillowcases were.”
A hand smacked my arm hard. “You liar! I totally believed you at first.”
I held up my right hand in surrender. “Honest to God, it really happened.”
“Mmhmm.” She wasn’t convinced. “And the point of the story was?”
I chuckled. “You wanted dirt on Lee. She’s fucking terrified of raccoons. Probably the only thing in the world she’s afraid of.”
“So, why Arthur and Rocket?”
“What else would you name two red-eyed terrors that can talk? Seemed sensible to us at the time.” Molly started to giggle then, shaking her head. I smiled at the windshield. “Lee and I vowed that we would never tell anyone. She started to research the vermin, in case they were scouts sent by their leader and were coming to take over the world, Planet of the Apes style.” I shook my head. “I’ve never told anyone else about that night. But you watch her. If she ever meets anyone named Arthur or Rocket, she’ll tense and eye them suspiciously, as if she’s trying to see a resemblance.”
Molly was still laughing a few minutes later when I realized I didn’t know anything about her childhood. “What about you? Do you still talk to any of your old friends?”
Molly sobered instantly, sitting up in her seat. “Not really.”
“That sucks.” I twisted the top off my bottle and took a sip of Coke. “Sometimes it’s nice to have that history.” Then I thought about Jules. “Sometimes it’s better to start with a clean slate and leave history in the past.”
Molly nodded beside me. “You have no idea.” She stared out the window for a few minutes. I was about to reach for the radio when she turned back to me. “I actually grew up in New York.”
“Really? I never would have guessed that by your accent. I thought you were a country bumpkin.”
She laughed. “Yeah, well you don’t sound like a backwoods hick, so I never would have known you’re from Maine.”
“Listen he-ah, bub. I’ve tried wicked hahd to get rid of the accent. It’s a wicked pissah, guy.”
She giggled. “You are such a geek.” She took a sip of her soda. “Was it hard to get rid of?”
I shrugged. “Not really, but it wasn’t that bad to begin with. I still slip into it when I’m home. What about you?”
“When you want to change something badly enough, you find a way.” Before I could question her cryptic answer, she adjusted her legs in the seat again and asked, “So, why Julie? I mean, I love Nate and Lia together, and can’t imagine them apart, but I’ve met Julie and can’t picture you two together. So how in the hell did you end up with her and not Lia?”
I didn’t miss how she changed the subject, avoiding the questions I asked about her. But, I decided not to point it out. “Lia was with Nate. And Jules…” I paused, not knowing what to say. “Jules was Lia’s other best friend, Nate was mine. The four of us were together a lot anyway, so it seemed like the natural thing to do.” Jesus, that was a lame answer. “You didn’t know Julie back then. She was different.”
“So she wasn’t a spiteful bitch when you were kids?”
I chuckled. “Probably. But I didn’t see her that way. She was sweet to me, a great friend to Lia, and hot as fuck.”
“Ugh. Such a typical man.” She groaned. “I just don’t see it. You’re…” She trailed off.
“I’m what?” I probed when she didn’t continue.
“Nice. A decent human being. Too good for someone like her.”
“I wasn’t then,” I admitted without thinking. I wasn’t trying to defend Julie, but for some reason, I needed Molly to know the whole truth. “I’m the dick who joined the Navy and never planned on coming back for his high school girlfriend, even though I’d promised I would. I was going to see the world, sleep my way around the globe, and avoid her at all costs when I came home to visit.”
“I’ve missed a step. How did you end up married?”
“I refused her calls, telling myself she’d realize we were over eventually. Until she wrote to me to tell me she was pregnant.”
“Oh.” She dragged the word out, realization dawning as she spoke. “You got married because of Jake.”
“God, no. I got married for Jake. I married her because my kid wasn’t going to grow up wondering if he or she was good enough.” I’d never told anyone the truth before, even though I was sure Gram and Lee had realized the connection long ago. “I joined the Navy because I idolized Lee’s dad and the country needed more men like him. He knocked up Lia’s mom when they were still in high school, so it was like history repeating itself. They never got married and he left as soon as he found something better. I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be the dick who abandoned his kid when the next best thing came along.” Of course, I never imagined that Julie would do exactly that, but I left that part out.
