My father thinks my mother hung the moon. They may be near polar opposites—she’s structure and he’s chaos—but he loves every single thing about her. You can see it in the way he looks at her and all the little reasons he finds to touch her—like holding her hand in the car or guiding her into a room by the small of her back.
It’s almost hard to witness that kind of love growing up. It set a standard that isn’t the norm. Some might even say unrealistic. I guess I’d given up on the dream of ever finding a love like that at the same time I’d given up on all my dreams. Eric’s the only guy I’ve ever felt any kind of real connection with, and that never seems to work out well for me.
My stomach knots as my thoughts drift to the events of Friday night and Saturday morning. The one thing I’d been fearing the most happened. Every awful feeling I experienced with Jim that night nine years ago came flooding back as he trapped me against the wall, his breath brushing my neck and face while he said things I didn’t want to hear. Instead of being strong enough to stand up to him, I’d cowered in fear before shutting down, making me feel weak and stupid. Nothing has changed. He’s still a snake and I’m his mouse.
When Eric walked up, I should’ve been relieved, but it only made me hate myself more. I couldn’t bear for him to find out about what happened—the way I’d been violated. Sure, I know all the things people tell women who’ve been assaulted—It wasn’t your fault. You have nothing to be ashamed of—but that’s all easier to say than accept.
I’d been drinking. I willingly went to his house alone. I’d been flirting with him all night. I put myself in harm’s way. I hadn’t done enough to fight back. I didn’t report him. I never even told a soul what happened that night.
I know how that all looks, what people would say—behind my back if not to my face. Jim would certainly give a different interpretation of that night. The truth is, I don’t want anyone to look at me as the girl who was raped—or worse, the girl who cried rape. I’d rather pretend it never happened at all.
“Are you feeling okay, princess?” my dad asks as he pulls the car out of the driveway, meeting my gaze through the rearview mirror.
“Yeah.” I smile to help cover up my lie.
My mother shifts in the passenger seat until she’s looking at me. “Did Christopher call you?”
Sighing, I avert my eyes to the scenery out the window before answering, “Yes.”
I already know what’s coming next, and I’m in no mood. My mother believes I should give Christopher another chance. She thinks we can work on our marriage, that I’m ending it hastily. No one knows I tried for over a month to move past Christopher’s infidelity. I’d caught him in the act after coming home from my trip here at the end of October. Forgiving him seemed like a more appealing option than moving back to Tennessee, but I couldn’t do it.
“What did he say?”
“Malinda!” my father reprimands. “That’s none of our business.”
Stiffening, I look over at her out the corner of my eye as her eyes narrow at him.
“Don’t ‘Malinda’ me, Joseph. I’m only trying to help our daughter. As her mother, it’s my job to help guide her in the right direction.”
“I didn’t answer,” I reply, wanting to take the heat off Daddy.
“I think you should at least hear what he has to say. We’re all in the flesh, and people make mistakes. Maybe if you speak with a pastor, the two of you can get through this even stronger.”
Taking a deep breath, I shake my head and focus on the window, my jaw clenching as my chest burns. Though she’s never out right said it, my mother believes I’m the cause of Christopher’s cheating. The worst part is, I don’t completely disagree. I never loved him—not the way I should have. Not to mention, I have some issues when it comes to sex, thanks to my rocky introduction.
“I know you mean well, baby,” my dad interjects, “but it’s her birthday. Maybe we should put this subject on hold.”
“Fine,” she relents, facing forward again.
My body relaxes as I exhale and give my father an appreciative smile when his gaze meets mine. The conversation is far from over, but I’m still grateful for the reprieve. I’m known for being strong and resilient, but it’s all an act. Inside, I’m cracked and on the brink of breaking.
STARTING OVER
January 5th
“So, are you going to tell me what happened after the two of you left Friday night?” Roxy smirks, relaxing back in her chair as we finish reviewing this week’s schedule.
My body tenses as I try to keep my features schooled. Nothing happened between Jules and me, but there had been a pendulum swing—at least for me. Her vulnerability made her appear less like the storm and more like the casualty of one.
Julianna carries herself as if she can weather anything, but her structure is less secure than she lets on. She experienced something terrible, and knowing that puts a new perspective on some things.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I grumble, running my hand through my hair.
“Oh really?” She crosses her arms, then her legs. “Well, I saw you bringing her back to her car the next morning.”
“So what?” I shrug. “She was in no condition to drive. I brought her back here and she slept on my couch. That’s all.”
“Except it’s not,” she quips. “There’s a story there. The two of you aren’t as good at hiding your feelings as you think you are.”
My heart stutters at the insinuation that Julianna might have said or done something to lead Roxy to believe I’d ever been anything more than a friend to her, but it’s more likely she’s only fishing—wanting me to react. Busying myself, I open my email and feign disinterest.
“What’s your obsession with this subject, Red?”
“I’ve seen the way she gets lost in you when she thinks no one’s watching.” My body goes rigid as all the oxygen seems to leave the room, and she smiles as I fix my glare on her. “And I’ve seen the longing in your eyes when you look at her.”
I know I should say or do something to deny her claim, but I’m too fixated on what she said about Jules. Not that it would matter. My feelings for her have always been obvious to everyone except Julianna.
The chime of the front door echoes through the hallway and Julianna calls out for Roxy.
“We’re in here,” she shouts back, standing.
My pulse begins to race as I avert my eyes back to my laptop, and my body heats, feeling Roxy’s invasive stare as I work to calm it.
“Am I late?” Julianna asks, stepping inside the doorway to my office.
“No. EJ’s actually on time,” Roxy quips.
They both snicker, and I look up at them with hooded eyes before relaxing back in my chair and crossing my arms. “Funny, Red,” I deadpan. “I’m sure you have some work that needs to be done. I’d like to speak with Julianna for a moment.”
Julianna’s eyes widen as she looks at Roxy, but Roxy pretends not to notice, grinning at her, then me.
“Sure thing, boss.” She steps around Julianna, then out the door before reaching to close it behind her.
When I finally allow my eyes to fix on Julianna, she’s chewing on her bottom lip, her arms wrapped around herself, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate as color spreads across her cheeks.
Clearing my throat, I gesture to the seat Roxy had vacated. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
Nodding, she sits, her eyes finally meeting mine. “Is something wrong?” Her wavering tone is another indication that she’s feeling nervous too.
Still lost in my conversation with Roxy, it takes me a moment to respond, and her panic begins to show on her face. “Oh! No, nothing’s wrong.” Shaking my head, I get up from my chair and walk to the front of my desk, perching myself on the edge directly in front of her.
Her back is as straight as a stick and her shoulders are squared, tension and anxiety radiating off her. Rubbing the back of my neck, I take a deep breath and will my own unease to leave
my body.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” I begin, placing my nervous hands on my thighs before running them over my jeans.
Her face pales as her features fall and she drops her head. “Okay,” she sighs, lifting her head again, her emotions masked now.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I explain. Her eyebrows draw in as she repositions herself, leaning to the left to rest her elbow on the armrest, her gaze locked on mine. “I haven’t been entirely welcoming or friendly, and that’s caused things to be a little strained between us, but I’d like for that to change. We’ll be working together closely, and I want you to feel comfortable. Can we start over?”
Nodding, her eyelashes flutter. “I’d like that very much.” A hopeful smile lights her face and my chest swells.
So it begins—again.
BROKEN PIECES
January 19th
“Do you mind if I cut out early?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the bag I’m putting back on the shelf in the studio.
Though things with Eric are still a bit less organic than I’d like for them to be, they’ve been better. His mood and temperament have been more predictable for the most part, and I haven’t felt like my mere presence upsets him. But something’s been bothering him today.
We spent our afternoon photographing a little girl for her first birthday, which made me fall in love with this job even more. Watching her smash her cake and seeing the pure joy she was experiencing made me feel lighter. It’s been a very long time since I’ve smiled and laughed that much, but Eric seemed edgy and distracted. At first, I thought maybe he didn’t like working with small children, but I’d caught a soft smile on his face more than once as he gazed at the little girl.
When I don’t get an answer, I turn to find him standing right behind me, his brow creased in concern.
“Is everything okay?” He studies my face as if it holds the answer.
His worry for me is overwhelming and a little suspicious. It makes me wonder if he’s suddenly treating me with kid gloves because of what he saw at the bar. My guard was down that night, and he’d seen the crack in my armor. The last thing I want is for him, or anyone, to treat me like I’m broken.
“Yep.” I shoot him a bright smile. “Everything’s great. Now that I have some money saved, I can get a place of my own. So, I made some appointments to check out a couple places around town.”
“Alone?” His eyes narrow as he crosses his arms, and I’m not sure whether I want to roll my eyes or laugh.
“Well, yeah,” I shrug.
Does he seriously think I’m so damaged I need someone holding my hand for everything? I’ve been handling shit on my own for a long time—way before I left Christopher.
“I have the afternoon free. I’m going with you.” His tone is flat, an edge of finality to it, as if I have no choice in the matter. Without looking to me for confirmation, he turns on his heel.
“That’s not necessary,” I huff, following behind him. “I’m perfectly capable of—”
“I want to be sure you find a nice, safe place,” he interjects, like he hadn’t even heard me speaking. “Besides, they’ll want you to verify your employment, and I can speed up the process by taking care of that while I’m with you.”
He comes to a stop as we reach the front desk, turning to face me again. The warm, caring smile on his face melts the icy wall trying to keep him out, and I sigh. Out the corner of my eye, I see Roxy smirk, soaking in every second of our interaction. She’s been relentless with the questions and insinuations. This is only going to add fuel to the fire.
“I suppose you do have a point there.” Narrowing my eyes, I feign annoyance.
He slaps the front desk in excitement and winks at me. “Of course I do. Afterwards, we can stop to get a bite to eat. It’ll be nice to spend some time with you outside of work.”
My stomach flutters and my body stiffens as his attention moves to Roxy, my own eyes snapping over to her. Her lips curl, then spread wide across her face, but she doesn’t say a word. Not that she needs to. I know exactly what she’s thinking because it’s the same thing I’m thinking and the reason I’m finding it so difficult to take in air.
This feels like more than merely ensuring a good working relationship—even more than building a friendship again—but I’d let myself believe in the possibility of more with Eric in the past, and I couldn’t do that to myself again.
“Congratulations on your new place,” Eric beams, holding up his beer in salute.
My heart stutters as I return his smile. Lifting my wine, I clink it with his bottle. “Thank you.” Averting my eyes to my glass, I bring it back to my lips, taking a bigger gulp than necessary as I try to drown out my unwanted thoughts and feelings about him.
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry they didn’t have anything available sooner for you.”
“No, it’s fine.” Shaking my head, my gaze finds him again as I place my drink back on the table, rubbing my fingers over the stem. He’d gone out of his way to help me today, and the fact that he feels the need to apologize for anything is absurd. His behavior is so confusing, but that’s always been Eric’s MO. Just as it’s always been mine to allow him to get too close. “That gives me some time to get my things back here. It actually worked out perfectly.”
“Right,” he mumbles, a disconnect in his eyes as he shifts his gaze away from me.
An uncomfortable silence falls between us, and I chew on my bottom lip as I fidget in my chair, my eyes skirting around the restaurant in search of our waitress. Check please! My anxiety grows until even the sounds of the bustling restaurant seem to become quieter—other people’s laughter and conversations hushed, clatter of dishes and banging of pans faded, leaving only the sound of my rapidly beating heart. When my eyes land on Eric again, his stare is fixed on me, and my face heats.
“What?” I croak.
“Were you happy there, with him?”
Collapsing against the back of my chair, I let out a puff of air, feeling as if I’d literally been hit out of nowhere by his question. My forehead creases as I consider how to answer, and I shrug.
“I don’t know, Eric. Happy can be a relative term. I wasn’t miserable the way I had been here.”
He clenches his jaw, then sighs, and guilt knots in my stomach. I don’t want him to think he didn’t matter, especially when nothing could be further from the truth. Explaining that would mean giving him a better explanation for the choices I made, though—and that isn’t something I can do.
“Did he treat you well? Were you taken care of the way you should have been?” he probes, his unrelenting glare filled with overwhelming emotion.
A heaviness settles on my chest as I struggle to get air past the huge lump in my throat, my wet eyes burning as I fight to pry them from the hold he has on them. These are questions no one ever asked me over the seven years I was married to Christopher—questions I hadn’t even asked myself—and I don’t know how to answer them.
Pulling my shaky hands in my lap, I pinch the inside of my left thigh to banish my bubbling emotions, then clear my throat as I sit straighter in my seat.
“I think perhaps he did the best he could with what he had to work with,” I answer honestly. “He got more than he bargained for with me. I came with a lot of baggage.”
His eyes close briefly, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deep. “So, that’s a no,” he grits out. “Don’t make excuses for his behavior, Julianna.” His use of my actual name instead of Jules causes me to wince slightly, like a child being reprimanded by their parent. “He should have treated you like the treasure you are. Instead of helping you carry that baggage, he added to the weight of it.”
His words are filled with conviction, his eyes reflecting the honesty behind his statement, but he doesn’t know the truth. It would be easier to blame Chris and make him the bad guy, but I was at fault too. I’d never given my heart to him. I’d been distant and disconnected, going through the motions of a life with him
without actually living it.
Shaking my head, I bite the inside of my cheek and cast my eyes down.
“That isn’t fair. There are things you don’t understand—things you don’t know about me. I’m a lot more shattered than I pretend to be.”
“We all have broken pieces, Jules.” When my eyes lift, his lips curve into a warm smile. “He should have been the one putting those fragments back together and making you whole again. You deserve that. You’re worthy of that kind of love, broken parts and all.”
His words strip me bare, leaving me vulnerable and exposed to the harmful elements of my emotions, and I wrap my arms around my midsection to brace myself. My overloaded mind scrambles for a response as I focus on the woodgrain of the table.
Damn Eric and his ability to make me feel this way—cared for, protected, safe.
It isn’t real…is it?
The waitress steps back up to the table, startling me and breaking the spell of the moment. By the time she’s walking away with the payment and we’re getting up to leave, my shields are firmly back in place.
OPEN ROAD
February 3rd
Our sophomore year of high school, Julianna and I took Driver’s Ed together, and I’d daydream about the two of us going on long road trips like this one. But things played out very differently in my mind. I imagined us happy and in love—her hand in mine as we talked and laughed. Reality sucks.
We’ve been driving for nearly an hour, and she’s barely spoken two words to me, her eyes remaining focused on the scenery flying by. Things have been friendly between us, and I’ve done everything I can to show her she can trust me, but she still seems closed off. It’s like she’s trying to protect herself, but from what? Me? She did say I’d hurt her more than anyone else ever had, and I’ve yet to apologize or even address what happened, choosing to ignore it in hopes of starting fresh, but our past runs deep and weighs heavily on us.
Crushed (In This Moment Book 2) Page 10