Find Me

by Laurelin Paige

  “She’s worried she’ll let him back in her pants,” Liesl chimed in.

  “I am not!” But my denial was fueled by the irritation that she’d read me correctly. I hadn’t told a soul that I’d had second thoughts about him. The problem was that while Chandler had previously been a source of escape, now he was potentially more. For the first time, I was able to see what kind of relationship we could have. What could be possible if my heart weren’t elsewhere.

  But my heart was elsewhere. At least, part of it was. It was hard to decide about my whole heart given how much I didn’t know about JC. If anything were still possible between us, it wouldn’t happen until I got to know him. And if things didn’t work out, well, I wasn’t exactly ruling Chandler out anymore.

  Laynie didn’t miss a thing. “You’re protesting awfully hard. What’s with that? Are you thinking about giving him another chance?”

  I considered lying and then remembered I wasn’t any good at it. “I don’t know. Maybe. Down the road. I just need a little more time to think.” In other words, I was still waiting on JC. But since he hadn’t made any move to contact me and the trial was almost over, my hopes of hearing from him were shredding.

  And Independence Day was the day I’d chosen to be over him. Which was tomorrow. I’d told myself that was null and void since he’d shown up again, but the idea had been set so firmly in my head that the date felt like an ending now no matter what.

  Alayna leaned a hand on the bar. “Chandler isn’t your only option for a date. You could invite someone else. Someone from your past—hint, hint. It doesn’t have to be the Fourth of July you thought it was going to be.”

  I shut the laptop, giving up on any computer work. “I already made an effort when I went to court. He knows I’m here. He needs to make the next move.”

  She pursed her lips. We’d had this discussion before. Laynie thought I was playing the situation too cool. But she wasn’t one to let a man go once she’d set her sights on him, and her obsessions were unhealthy, so she recommended I take her advice with a grain of salt.

  Still, she couldn’t help but give her input. “He can’t reach out to you if he doesn’t know how to find you.”

  “If he looks, he’ll find me. I texted his old phone number after the trial. I don’t know if it works anymore, but just in case. Matt took a leave of absence from Eighty-Eighth Floor, but I left a message for him and another manager to give JC if he came looking for me. The club is the only lead he has on me, so I’m sure that’s where he’ll go.”

  “Was that a good idea?” Ben’s tone belied his worry.

  “Leaving a message at Eighty-Eighth? Matt is completely trustworthy, and Alyssa is the only other person I told,” I assured him. “Matt’s message says to talk to Alyssa and I made her promise to only tell JC or Matt where I was if they asked in person.” I didn’t add that my trust for Alyssa was thin. It would only put Ben more on edge. I, on the other hand, wasn’t as concerned about my father as I’d once been. He’d been gone for so long, he didn’t feel like a real threat, while my need to see JC was concrete.

  “Then he must still be in custody or he’s staying low until the trial is over,” Laynie said with confidence. “Otherwise he’d be here.”

  It was sweet how she defended him when she didn’t even know him, simply because she knew it was what I wanted to hear. I appreciated it.

  I almost believed her, too. It made sense that he’d be tied up until the trial was over, so that was what I waited for. Every day I checked the news, hoping to hear it had ended. As of the Friday before, the jury had the case. Any moment, they could reach a decision. Any moment, JC could be free.

  Meanwhile, I was anxious. Some minutes moved slowly, like they’d been drenched in molasses, but then others would fly by with lightning speed, disappearing in chunks of time that I couldn’t account for. As much as I wanted the verdict to come in, I was also aware that Mennezzo might not be convicted. Then, what? Would the case go to appeals? Would JC have to hide again?

  But the worst of my anxiety wasn’t centered on Mennezzo possibly getting off. It was worrying that he’d be put away, and JC still wouldn’t try to find me.

  “Stop,” Laynie said, reading my expression. “You can’t worry about this until it’s a thing.”

  Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, considering it came from the most obsessive worrier I knew? But I was pretty sure there was no use arguing with her.

  Fortunately, the delivery buzzer rang and she left to answer it, so the discussion was effectively put to bed.

  Or, so I thought.

  “She’s right, you know,” Ben said around a mouthful of peanuts. “You won’t know how this is going to play out until it plays out. Meanwhile, you shouldn’t spend the holiday alone. Come be with people who love you. I promise not to ignore you.”

  My little brother knew better than anyone that hiding wasn’t the way to deal with emotions. Though his reasons for pushing family and friends away hadn’t been the same as mine, I acknowledged his opinion. “I’ll think about it, okay? But, really, I’d be miserable. And I’d make all of you miserable with my moping.”

  He put an arm around my shoulders and nearly pulled me off my barstool as he tugged me in for a side hug. “You never make me miserable, big sis.” He paused a moment before adding, “That’s Norma’s job.”

  He kissed my hair as I chuckled. He started to pull away then stopped suddenly to whisper in my ear. “Now that’s definitely something that doesn’t make me miserable. Holy Mama, I could look at that piece of fine all day.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” He nodded beyond me, and I twisted to follow his gaze.

  My eyes settled on Laynie first, but it was only a millisecond before they caught on the man next to her. All the air left my lungs.

  “Oh my God. JC.”

  And that was all I could say because my voice had left me. And my mouth had gone dry. And my hands were suddenly damp, as well as other parts of me—lower parts. And if he said anything, I didn’t hear it because sound had evaporated and all that I was aware of was my body and the way it came alive. The rush of warmth through my limbs. The flush of my face. The thudding of my heart in my chest, beating so hard it might burst. Or fly away.

  Or, no—pounding like it had finally come back. Returned with him. Here. Unbelievably, in a place I wasn’t sure he’d find me.

  “Hey, Gwen.” How I’d missed my name on his tongue. It had a flavor to it I could practically taste. Sweet and chocolaty and a little salty too.

  “Hey,” I managed as I slipped, or fell, rather, off the stool to my feet. My knees were so weak that I had to hold onto the bar to keep standing.

  “That’s JC?” Liesl had no filter. “I was hoping the buzzer meant we were finally getting the new menus delivered. Bummer.”

  I thought about turning to glare at her, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t stop looking at the man in front of me, my gaze fastened toward him like the arrow on a compass pointing north. His eyes stayed pinned on me as well, both of us trapped in a field of magnetic energy that sparked and spit and spanned every inch of space between my body and his.

  God, what he did to my hormones. How would I survive if he got closer? If he touched me? Of course, that required movement and maybe even dialogue, and both were foreign concepts at the moment.

  Thankfully, Alayna had her head on for me. “Why don’t you go up to one of the bubble rooms where you can be alone? I’ll make sure the club gets opened.”

  “And I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Ben came up behind me. Jesus, I’d forgotten he was still there. I probably should have done introductions or something, but I just couldn’t do anything.

  He seemed to understand, bending to kiss my forehead. “If you need anything, come over before you crash in the morning. Or just come over.”

  To talk, he meant, and I was grateful. But, “Yeah,” was all I could manage.

  “He’s her brother!” Liesl shouted
as Ben walked out, apparently worried about the perception he’d given JC. “And he’s gay! Totally no competition.”

  “Liesl,” Laynie said sharply, though I could hear the urge to laugh behind the admonition. “Gwen.” She waited until I dragged my eyes to her—it was very, very difficult. “Bubble room.”

  I opened my mouth to suggest it, not knowing yet how I’d form words, but JC spoke first. “Can we talk there?” His body remained poised and confident, despite the edge of trepidation in his words. “I’d really like it if we could talk.”

  “Yeah.” Oh my God, Gwen, pull yourself together!

  I shook off the daze as best as I could. “Yes, of course. The club will open soon, but there are private tables up there.” My forehead knit. “You do mean talk now, right? Or did you mean could we talk later?” I sounded flustered and shaken because that was exactly what I was.

  So much for making a good first impression. Second impression? First-second impression?

  Whatever. I was totally off-balance.

  He smiled, but his eyes didn’t light. “Yes. I mean now. There’s a private room?”

  “Yeah.” I cringed at my stunted vocabulary, but also because I was just beginning to notice that something was off. There was an uneasiness that I couldn’t place. An edginess.

  But maybe that was just the time that had passed between us. I forced a smile. “Follow me.”

  He took slow steps toward me, and I blushed for who knows what reason, so I spun away, noting Liesl’s waggle of her brows as I started toward the staircase. We walked up in silence, and I began to worry. Worried that we wouldn’t get past the awkwardness. Worried that I still wouldn’t have words when we were finally alone. Worried that my ass didn’t look good in my dress pants.

  Worried about the undercurrent of tension that was only partly sexual.

  I’d spent months wondering if I’d imagined the way it had been with JC, questioning if my feelings for him had been exaggerated and if a relationship was realistic considering how little we knew about each other. I’d thought I’d just need to see him again to know, thought that I’d see him and I’d be at ease. But now I was more uncertain than ever.

  We’d be alone soon, though, and maybe that would sort everything out. I hoped.

  The private rooms—bubble rooms, as they were called—were the highlight of The Sky Launch. Circular in shape and completely enclosed, several of them lined the upper level with a glass wall that looked out over the dance floor below. I took him to the closest room and held the door open for him. I held my breath as he walked in, preparing myself for the shock that would inevitably shudder through my body as he brushed past me.

  Except he didn’t brush past me.

  He stood far enough away that when he stepped in, he didn’t touch me at all. If our roles had been reversed, I would have brushed. I would have moved in close and made it seem casual but it would have been on purpose simply because it had been so long and every cell in my being was aching for contact.

  If his feelings mirrored mine at all, he would have had to touch me too.

  So when he didn’t brush against me, I knew that the tension I felt was real and stronger than I’d wanted to admit. Knew that it wasn’t just awkwardness but a deliberate restraint on his part.

  Every ounce of hope evaporated, replaced with sheer and utter disappointment. Were we over then? Was this a goodbye visit meant only to bring closure?

  Well.

  I’d pretend it didn’t bother me, here in front of him, anyway. But later…later I would die of heartache.

  I held back at the door long enough to take a deep, shaky breath. Then I moved to sit across from him, letting the fabricated wood of the table be the latest barrier between us. There was always something, wasn’t there? Always distance. Always a secret. Always a barrier.

  But his gaze pierced into me as it had downstairs, and despite the underlying strain, the air remained charged around us.

  Jesus, I was confused. When it came to him, what else was new?

  We sat together inside that electric field, wordless and heavy. I was the first to break the silence, not able to stand it any longer. “You always did have a way of getting into clubs before the doors were unlocked.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I like surprising you.”

  I wanted it to mean he liked me. I was afraid it didn’t. I forced an apprehensive smile.

  At the same time, he grew somber. “But I apologize if it’s a bad time. I didn’t think, and I needed to come get this over with.”

  My belly felt hollow, like it had been carved out with a knife. Get this over with. Get me over with. Like I was an item on his task list.

  “Sure,” I said, pretending I hadn’t just been gutted. “It’s fine.” We were over and he’d come to tie loose ends. He’d shattered me, but I was fine. I’d be fine.

  “Good.” He seemed satisfied with my response, letting his body relax into the seat.

  He studied me for another moment, intensely. “Your hair is darker.”

  Numbly, I pulled a strand out to look at it, as if I didn’t see it every day in the mirror. I’d worn the dirty blonde shade since he’d left and was now accustomed to it. “Yeah. I needed a change.”

  I snuck a glance at him. He was still so goddamned sexy. Still so wickedly hot that just the sight of him made me tingle in places I’d forgotten he could arouse. I wished I could dull my lust as easily as I could my locks, with just a trip to the salon.

  “It looks good.” He cleared his throat. “You look good.”

  It came out stilted. Everything was coming out stilted. Before, he’d always been so easy with me. Flirty. Forward. Why weren’t we that way now? I wanted to be that way. Wanted to be coiled around him, our clothes disheveled or missing. We should be making up for lost time, not anguished and distant.

  Or maybe it was only me who was anguished.

  And because I didn’t know how to be with him or how he wanted me to be with him—because I was pretty sure he didn’t want me to be anything with him in the future—I put up my defenses.

  “So. Justin.” His real name was still strange to say, and it came out bitter when I meant it to sound guarded.

  He lowered his eyes, and I almost regretted the coldness in my tone. “No one calls me that anymore.”

  “Who did?” But I was really asking, did she?

  “My parents. Grade school teachers.” He paused. “Corinne.”

  And there she was. The ghost in the room. The real barrier between us. The cause of his need to get me over with, possibly. Probably.

  I didn’t realize she would come up so easily, even when I’d directed the conversation there. Now that it was there, the tense undercurrent flared into a tidal wave, and I realized I was angry. Pissed. For so many reasons, and not all of them invalid. The urge to throw accusations pulled at me. You should have told me, sat at the tip of my tongue. You left me because of her. You didn’t tell me it was for her.

  Then the one that really burned at me—You still love her. Not me. Her.

  How could anything I ever meant to him equal what he’d felt for her? For the woman whose loss had killed him inside? No wonder he wanted to officially end things. He knew our relationship was as impossible as I did. Then why didn’t he just tell me and get it over with?

  Yes. There was a lot to say.

  But then her name brought up another thought, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked it first. “Did the jury come back?”

  “Yes. About an hour ago.” He smiled, but it felt forced. “Guilty. They found him guilty. The sentencing will be in another few weeks, but they took him into custody.”

  He sounded so matter-of-fact about it, so casual that I wondered if I missed something. “Is it over then?”

  “Uh, yeah.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Mostly.”

  I should have been relieved. I should have been grateful that he was finally safe. But ribbons of turmoil continued to curl in my stomach, and I had th
e distinct impression he was holding something back. Again.

  “Well, then. Congratulations.” I didn’t even try to sound enthused.

  “Thank you.” He was just as formal and restrained. “I’m still processing it. It went on for so long that it’s hard to grasp it’s finally done. I guess it hasn’t hit me yet.”

  “It will. Give it time.” I was cold. Indifferent. Numb. It may have been a defensive reaction, but it was necessary. Because he’d left. He’d been gone for a year. He’d left me hanging, and when he returned he hadn’t brought me apologies or explanations. He hadn’t tried to reassure me. He’d come back but he’d brought the distance with him.

  So I had to be bitter. Otherwise I was going to be furious. Otherwise I was going to be destroyed.

  With an iciness I hadn’t heard in myself for some time, I broached the next subject that he should have addressed without me asking. “What about your wife?”

  “Yeah…about that…” He scratched at the back of his neck, and I gripped the edge of the table with my hands, preparing myself. “It’s actually quite funny.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He let out an awkward laugh. “It’s embarrassing, really.”

  “More embarrassing than you getting drunk-married?” Until that moment, I’d trusted that nothing had happened with her. But what if it had? What if they’d had sex? What if he’d stayed with her? What if she’d gone with him to wherever he had to hide and the funny story was, Now we’re totally in love?

  But he said, “No. That was worse. For sure. That you thought I was married was very much worse.”

  That just confused me more. Because there was nothing funny about his marriage. And what did he mean by you thought I was married? “I thought you were married because you told me you were. Are you saying you lied?” The bitter edge in my tone was now also laced with frustration.

  “No, no. I didn’t lie to you. But when I went to the chapel the next day to figure out how to get it annulled...” He waved his hand dismissively then pulled his phone out from inside his jacket. “It sounds hokey. They gave me a DVD that I can forward to you. That should explain it.” He swiped a few times across the screen then hesitated. “Uh, do you have your phone with you?”