by Ana Huang
“The house fire? That happened years ago,” Jules said.
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Rita waved a hand in the air. “Didn’t you hear? Alastair got caught having sex with one of his business associates’ daughters. She was sixteen, so it was technically legal under state law, but…” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Anyway, his business associate went apeshit when he found out. Rumor has it he destroyed half of Alastair’s business and Alastair had to take out a bunch of loans to keep it afloat. That’s why your mom got such a small inheritance. It was all he had left. Some people say the associate was also the one who set the house on fire, but we’ll never know.”
Jesus Christ. The whole thing sounded like a daytime soap opera, but one glance at Jules chased away any disbelief I had.
She sat frozen, staring at Rita with wide eyes. Her skin matched the color of the white napkins stuffed into a little metal box on the table. “What—did my mom know? How come this wasn’t in the papers?”
“Alastair’s family kept it out of the papers,” Rita said, obviously delighted she knew something Jules didn’t. “Very hush hush, but someone leaked the info. Can you believe it? Your poor mom. Though she did know and stayed with him after so…” She trailed off and cleared her throat. “Anyway, what brings you back?”
“I…” Jules finally blinked. “My mom died a few days ago.”
A heavy, awkward pause hung in the air.
“Oh.” Rita cleared her throat again, her eyes darting around the diner. Crimson colored her face. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Hey, I gotta run, but it was great seeing you again and, uh, condolences.”
She rushed off, nearly knocking over a server in her haste.
Good fucking riddance.
“Old friend?” I asked.
“In the sense that she used to copy off my math tests.” Jules was starting to regain color, though the shock hadn’t fully left her expression. ”As you can probably tell, she’s the biggest gossip in town.”
“Yeah.” I eyed her with concern. “How are you feeling about the Alastair news?”
I felt partly vindicated by the man’s financial ruin, but Jules had enough going on with her mom’s death without dealing with the ghost of her disgusting stepfather.
“Shocked, but not surprised, if that makes sense.” She took a deep breath. “I’m glad Rita told me. I know they’re just rumors, but when I think about it, it all kind of makes sense—why he left my mom so little money, the mysterious circumstances surrounding the fire. At least Alastair was held somewhat accountable for the things he did.”
“And now he’s dead.”
“And now he’s dead,” Jules repeated. She huffed out a small laugh. “No need to bring up that asshole again.”
“Agreed.”
The server arrived to take our orders, and I waited until she left before I switched the subject. “So, Jules Miller, huh?”
She winced. “I changed my last name. Miller was my mom’s name. I wanted a fresh start after I left Ohio, so I applied for a legal name change.”
I almost choked on my water. “How the fuck didn’t I know this? Ava never mentioned it.”
“That’s because Ava doesn’t know. It’s just a name.” Jules fiddled with her napkin. “It’s not important.”
If it wasn’t important, she wouldn’t have changed it, but I resisted pointing that out. “How’d you come up with Ambrose?”
Some of the tension left her body, and a shadow of mischief crossed her face. “It sounds pretty.”
A laugh rose in my throat. “Well, there are worse reasons to choose a name,” I said dryly. “Is it weird, being back here?”
Jules paused before answering. “It’s funny. Before this trip, I built Whittlesburg up into this monster in my head. I had so many bad memories here—good ones too, but mostly bad. I thought coming back would be a nightmare, but other than the revelation about Alastair, it’s been so…normal. Even running into Rita wasn’t so bad.”
“The monsters in our imagination are often worse than those in reality.”
“Yeah,” Jules said softly. Her gaze lingered on mine. “And what about your monsters, Josh Chen? Are they worse in your imagination or in reality?”
A silent, charged beat passed between us while I debated my answer.
“Michael sends me letters almost every week,” I finally said. The admission tasted sour, like something I’d stored away so long it spoiled before it saw the light of day. “I don’t open them. They sit in my desk drawer, collecting dust. Every time a new one arrives, I tell myself I’ll toss it. But I never do.”
A commiserating spark glowed in her eyes.
If anyone understood the futility of wishing for a redemption arc that would never come, it was Jules.
“You said it yourself. The monsters in our imagination are often worse than those in reality.” She curled her hand over mine. “We’ll never know for sure until we face them.”
My chest squeezed. Her mother’s funeral was tomorrow, and she was comforting me.
I didn’t know how I ever thought Jules was insufferable, because as it turned out, she was pretty damn extraordinary.
37
JOSH
The next day, I accompanied Jules to her mother’s funeral. Besides the minister and funeral home staff, we were the only people in attendance, and the service passed without any fanfare.
“Would you like to say any words before we put Adeline to rest?” the minister asked after he delivered the eulogy.
Jules shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to say anything.”
I reached for her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, wishing I could do more to help. Jules didn’t look at me, but she gave me a small squeeze back.
The minister nodded, the staff lowered the casket into the ground, and that was that.
It was, in Jules’s words, anticlimactic, but that didn’t stop a knot from forming in my stomach when I stared at Adeline’s burial plot.
Decades of life, snuffed out just like that, with no one except her daughter and a stranger seeing her off. A lifetime of dreams, fears, accomplishments, and regrets, wiped out by a single freak accident.
It was fucking depressing.
I allowed myself to dwell in melancholy for a moment before I pushed it aside and placed a gentle hand on Jules’s elbow. The minister and funeral home staff had already left, but she hadn’t moved since the service. “We should head out. Our flight leaves soon.”
There was only one evening flight from Columbus to D.C. today, so we were flying together by default.
“Right.” Jules sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Thanks for being here with me,” she said as we walked toward the exit. “You really didn’t have to.”
“No, but I wanted to.” My mouth tugged up in a half smile. “Who knows what trouble you’d get into if I leave you alone?”
“The possibilities are endless,” she said solemnly. “You sure you don’t want a tour of the Whittlesburg police station before we leave?”
“I’m sure it’s fascinating, but I’ll pass.” I examined her, trying to figure out where her head was at. “How are you feeling?”
“Surprisingly okay.” Jules tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think the shock has worn off, and now I’m just…resigned, I guess. I’ll never get to say bye to my mom or make amends.” She hesitated. “Actually, I know our flight leaves soon, but can we make one stop before we head to the airport? I’ll keep it quick.”
“Yeah, of course.” We were squeezed for time, but I wasn’t going to say no to her after her mother’s funeral.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at a small, dilapidated house near the outskirts of town. Chipped blue paint covered its exterior, and the door was unlocked when Jules twisted the knob.
“The house my mom rented before she died,” she said after she caught my questioning stare. “When I notified the landlord of her death, they said I could
drop by and pick up any personal items. I wasn’t going to, but…”
“I understand.” It was Jules’s last chance. She was probably never coming back to Ohio.
We stepped into the house. There wasn’t much furniture except for a couch, TV, and a dining slash coffee table. Dirty dishes piled high in the sink, and a pot of flowers sat dying on the windowsill.
It was eerie, like the house was patiently waiting for an owner who would never return.
I followed Jules into the bedroom and stayed by the door while she approached the cluster of framed photos on the dresser. They all featured a beautiful older woman with red hair, obviously her mom. In one, she was wearing a gown and smiling at a fancy-looking party; in another, she was being crowned Miss Teen Whittlesburg, according to the sash across her chest.
There were no photos of anyone else, including Jules.
“I thought she would have at least one photo of me,” Jules murmured, running her hand over the teen pageant picture. “All these years…” She shook her head and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “It was stupid. I held out hope, but Adeline’s never cared much about anyone except herself.”
An ache bloomed in my chest. Neither of us had model parents, but I hated seeing her hope vanish. “I’m sorry, Red.”
“Don’t be.” Jules dropped her hand before facing me. “We can leave. We have a flight to catch, and I got what I wanted.”
“What’s that?”
“Closure.”
Closure.
The word echoed in my mind during our ride to the airport.
Maybe that was what I needed with Michael. I’d avoided contacting him for two years, thinking that was the solution to my problem. All it’d done was allow thoughts of him to fester like cancer. Slow, invisible, and gradually bleeding me of life until I was nothing but a shell of myself.
The monsters in our imagination are often worse those in reality.
The sudden, blinding clarity sliced through me like a blade.
“You okay?” Jules asked after we passed through security. Whittlesburg was so close to Columbus it took us less than an hour to arrive at the airport. “You look delirious.”
“Yep,” I said, still high from my discovery. It was so fucking obvious I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it earlier, but we were the blindest when it came to our own lives.
I didn’t look forward to seeing Michael, but it’ll be like ripping off a Band-Aid. Once I did it, I could finally move on. I was sure of it.
Closure.
The answer had been there all along.
“We spent two whole days together and didn’t kill each other.” Jules cocked an eyebrow as we picked up sandwiches and chips from one of the airport’s delis and settled at a table in the food court. Our flight didn’t leave for another seventy-five minutes, so we had time to kill. “We’re making progress.”
“It was a day and a half, tops.” I smiled, welcoming the shift to a lighter tone after the heaviness of our morning. Sadness lingered in Jules’s eyes, but she seemed determined to leave the past behind her. “We still have some time left.”
“How reassuring.” She bit into her sandwich, chewed, and swallowed before adding hesitantly, “I’ve been thinking about what you said at Bridget’s wedding…”
My pulse quickened. “Yeah?”
“You might be right.” She didn’t look at me, but pink crept over her cheeks. “About there being a difference between what something is supposed to be and what it actually is.”
The quickening turned into a roar. Warmth glowed in my chest and filled some of the cracks that had formed over the years.
“I’m always right.” It was all I could do to suppress a grin.
I’d never wanted an exclusive relationship. It came with too many expectations, and honestly, I’d never liked anyone enough to go on more than three dates with them.
Lusted for, sure. Liked? No.
But with Jules…fuck, I didn’t even know how it happened. I liked her, even when she pissed me off, which was half the time. Our arguments lit me up more than my conversations with anyone else did, and when we actually talked, she was the only person I felt like who got me. The only person who saw past the doctor, the playboy, the adrenaline junkie, and every other mask I wore to hide the messy imperfect pieces underneath.
I swallowed the odd lump in my throat while Jules rolled her eyes and smiled. “Always modest.”
“That too.”
Her smile widened, and our gazes lingered for a moment before her expression turned serious again. “So, what does that mean for us?”
Good question. I had no experience with the whole relationship thing, but…
“It means we should probably go on a date.” My grin exploded at the way her eyes widened. “Don’t look so shocked. It’s a date, Red. Not a marriage proposal.”
“Obviously,” she huffed, though the nervous look in her eyes remained. “I’ve been on dates before.”
My smile slipped at the reminder.
Of course Jules had been on dates before. That didn’t mean I wanted to think about it.
A ribbon of possessiveness unfurled in my stomach, and it took all my willpower not to grill her for the full name, number, and address of every guy who’d ever fucking touched her.
“Not with me.” I rubbed a speck of sauce from the corner of her mouth. My thumb lingered on her bottom lip, and dark satisfaction flared through me when her breath hitched. “When I take you out, it’ll be the best damn date you’ve ever had.”
“Your ego truly knows no bounds.” The breathlessness of her voice erased the sting of her insult.
I leaned forward and replaced my thumb with my lips. “Let’s make a bet, Red.” My mouth brushed over hers—not in a kiss, but in a promise. “I bet after our date, you won’t even be able to think about another man.”
The last part came out as a low growl.
Jules audibly swallowed. “You’re setting very high expectations, Chen.”
My smile returned. “Don’t worry. I never set expectations I can’t meet.”
38
JULES
It was strange. I’d left for Ohio, expecting it to be a nightmare, and I returned realizing it was a catharsis.
The trip took the messy, blurred pieces of my life and threw them into sharp relief.
Alastair was dead and couldn’t hurt me anymore.
My mom was dead, and no matter how much I agonized over what ifs, she was never coming back.
Max remained a threat, but he’d been oddly silent for a while. Until he made his next move, there wasn’t much I could do.
And Josh…Josh was one of the few bright spots in my shitshow of a life. Changing our relationship from enemies with benefits to dating was like jumping off a cliff—it could end in the most exhilarating rush of my life or total disaster.
But I already had enough regrets. I didn’t want Josh to be one of them.
Sometimes, you had to take a leap or risk getting stuck forever.
“What do you think?” I turned slowly, letting Stella examine my outfit.
Josh and I had our first official date today, but no matter how much I cajoled, threatened, and bribed him, he’d remained tight-lipped about what we were doing, so I was flying blind when it came to the dress code. His only guidance was to dress nice but not too nice, which was no freaking help at all.
After much agonizing, I’d settled on a blue sundress with sandals and styled my hair in a high ponytail to stave off the sweltering June heat. It was fun, flirty, and casual enough for a stroll in the park but dressy enough for a nice restaurant.
At least, I hoped so.
Stella assessed me from head to toe before giving me a thumbs up. “Perfect.”
Thank God. I didn’t have time to change. I was already running late.
Since Josh couldn’t pick me up from my house, I met him in Georgetown as requested.
Flutters filled my stomach when I spotted him waiting at our designated m
eeting spot.
White button down. Dark jeans. Tousled hair. So gorgeous it made my heart hurt.
I kind of wished we still hated each other because our relationship was not great for my cardiac health.
“Hey, Red.” Josh looked me over, his eyes heating. “Nice to see you looking presentable for once.”
“Nice to see you looking human for once.” I gave him an equally deliberate once-over. “How much did you pay for the skin suit to cover up your devil’s horns and reptile skin?”
“It was free. I’m just that charming,” he drawled.
“I think the seller was just scared you’ll suffocate him with your giant ego if you didn’t leave soon.”
His laugh rolled through me like molten caramel, rich and sweet. “I fucking missed you.”
I fell into step beside him as we walked down the street toward our mysterious destination. “It’s been three days.”
“I know.”
The flutters intensified. Dammit. When he wasn’t being an ass, he could be so…sweet.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” I was too curious not to ask. Why hadn’t Josh asked me to meet him at the date spot instead of some random street corner?
He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Patience.”
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds boring.” I stifled a laugh when he side-eyed me.
“You’re insufferable.”
“So you keep saying, yet you missed me and you’re on a date with me. What does that say about you?”
“That I’m a glutton for a beautiful punishment.”
I bit my lip to contain a burgeoning smile. “You should look into that. Doesn’t sound healthy.”
“I did. There’s no cure, I’m afraid.”
I stumbled on a loose cobblestone and would’ve face planted on the sidewalk had Josh not caught me by the wrist.
“Careful,” he said, his eyes aglow with amusement. He knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard. “Don’t want you to fall.”