by Jean Haus
Things are moving fast. Yet it feels like I’m watching a fight through a lens in slow motion.
Scrambling up from the floor, Trevor bull-rushes Justin, who ducks just in time to jab Trevor in the ribs.
People crowd around us—some screaming, some yelling, and some cheering. Their voices reverberate in my head as I move forward, intent on pulling Justin away from Trevor’s reach, not caring that I’ll end up in the middle of their fight.
As I reach for Justin, Gabe flies out of the crowd at Trevor, who cuffs him in the side of the head. The punch does nothing to stop Gabe. Fists flying, he beats Trevor to the ground. Even amid the shouting around us, I can hear Gabe repeating, “Men don’t fuck with girls. Men don’t fuck with girls. Men don’t fuck with girls.”
Strangely—or maybe not so strangely since it’s obvious that Gabe is in a rage—both Justin and I work at dragging him off Trevor. After nearly getting pulverized by Gabe’s elbows, we finally have him standing between us. He’s breathing hard, eyes still murderously trained on Trevor, who’s rolling across the floor and covering his face.
Gabe tears from our hold and lunges again, but Justin yanks him back by the waist. “Whoa, he’s down. Leave him be.”
The music in the bar is suddenly cut off.
Romeo breaks through the crowd. “What the hell is going on?”
“He”—Gabe points a shaky finger at Trevor, who’s sluggishly pushing himself up off the floor—“pushed her into a table.”
With rage etching his features, Romeo is obviously about to lay into Gabe with an embarrassing reprimand, but some guy dressed in a button-up shirt and pressed slacks breaks through the crowd around us. A nametag on his chest and the ring of keys on his belt loop signifies he works here. He holds a hand out to help Trevor up. “Back off, people!” Supporting Trevor, who’s swaying as if drunk and cupping his bloody nose, the guy yells, “Get away or get out!”
People start dispersing. Justin tugs Gabe away from the scene.
The man helping Trevor points to us. “You two, stay put. The cops are on their way.”
“The cops?” Gabe gasps, finally pulling his rage-filled gaze from Trevor and struggling to get out of our grip.
Romeo is instantly in Gabe’s face. “Don’t even think of taking off,” he says from behind clenched teeth.
Gabe visibly deflates, and Justin lets him go and wraps his arms around me.
“Tell me you’re okay?” he whispers in my ear.
“I’m all right,” I say into the skin of his neck, breathing in his earthy, comforting scent. “Your jaw?”
“A little sore, but forget me. When I saw that prick push you I feared the worst.”
“I’m all right,” I repeat, though the side of my thigh is throbbing where it hit the table. A bruise will definitely be there in the morning. “Just shook up and shocked. He’s never been like this.” I can’t tell if Justin believes me, but it’s true. Sure, Trevor has always been a jerk, but he’s never gotten physical with me. Something was off about him tonight, though, and I’d been close enough to him to know he wasn’t drunk.
Justin’s arms tighten around me. “I almost wish we’d let Gabe continue.”
Shaking my head, I hold on to him and let his embrace calm me down. Holly is suddenly next to us. “I can’t believe this. He pushed you?”
I can only nod at her.
She sneers at Trevor, who still appears out of it.
Behind us, we can hear Romeo lecturing Gabe. “Three years of playing and this is the first time this type of shit has happened. This shit is never happening again, do you hear me?”
As Justin turns and holds me close by one arm, Gabe mutters something under his breath but keeps his head lowered. I notice the group from our back room table standing at a distance and watching the aftermath unfold. A few tables over, the man I assume is the manager has Trevor in a chair and is crouched in front of him, holding a towelful of ice to his bloody nose. The sight irritates me. Even though Gabe went overboard, Trevor is not the victim here.
Romeo keeps bitching at Gabe. Now he’s talking about losing the club.
Justin shoots Romeo a cold look and says, “Honestly? This isn’t the time to be an asshole.”
Romeo stares at Justin with eyes that flash daggers.
I’m starting to feel awful. If I hadn’t come, none of this would have happened. I’m aware the guilt isn’t entirely mine, but I can imagine the rumors that will spread over the next week: The singer and drummer of Luminescent Juliet got into a bar fight over one of their girlfriends. The thought makes me cringe.
As the guys continue to argue around me, my gaze finds the instigator of the evening’s fiasco. The manager tries to help Trevor up, but he brushes off the man’s hands and heads toward the bathroom. The manager then comes to stand by us, probably hoping to stop anything else from erupting, Trevor turns back and his hostile gaze finds me. I don’t flinch. Instead, I stare right back until he disappears into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, the police arrive. My shock over the fight escalates when, after talking with the manager and several bystanders, the two policemen cuff and arrest both Justin and Gabe. Justin looks shocked too. Gabe’s face is impassive. Startled, I’m at the policeman’s side in an instant.
“They didn’t start it.” I’ve already told them this, but I have to do something before they haul off Justin. “My ex-husband was the first one to throw a punch.”
The cop glances at me. “This isn’t elementary school, miss. If someone hits you, it doesn’t give you the right to beat them senseless.”
My hands clench at my sides. “He kept the fight going, after he shoved me into a table and almost knocking it over.” I’ve already told him this too.
The cop directs Justin toward the door. “You can post his bail tomorrow morning. After that, it’s for the judge to determine who, if anyone, was in the right.”
Justin glances at me over his shoulder as he’s dragged out of the building, and I have to stop myself from following them.
The least shocking thing of the night? Trevor is nowhere to be found.
* * *
Between the three of us, Romeo, Sam, and I managed to collect the seven hundred dollars for Gabe’s bail. It turns out this isn’t Gabe’s first run-in with the law. All Justin has to do for his release is sign a personal recognizance bond—something about promising to return and appear in court. Justin will pay us back on Gabe’s behalf once he gets out, but I’m not too worried about money at the moment.
We arrive with the money at the police station at dawn, and while Romeo and Sam go inside to pay, I sit in my car. I’m looking forward to putting this sleepless night behind me. I’ve been consumed by guilt while also wishing I’d punched Trevor myself. I really don’t understand why he came last night. Sure, he’s been hinting at getting back together with me since he returned but he hasn’t been persistent. And he showed no signs of being completely freakin’ nuts about me with Justin until last night.
I’ve been waiting in my car for over half an hour when Romeo and Justin finally come out of the building, with Gabe and Sam following behind them through the revolving door.
Even though this is stupidest—I’m blaming it on lack of sleep—time to be obsessing about appearances, I’m kind of wowed by the four men coming at me. Of course, with his dimples, green eyes, and swoop of dark blond hair, Justin’s brand of hotness is the most devastating. But Romeo, who’s as tall as Justin’s six foot two, has this dark, sensual thing going on. Then there’s Gabe. Tall too, maybe just over six foot. He’s all wiry muscle, with piercing eyes and a jaw so hard it’s like someone cut it from marble. Last is Sam, who is all energy and handsome cuteness with his buzzed dark hair and muscles bulging, even at seven thirty in the morning. Geez. You’d think they were models instead of bandmates.
After a few fist bumps, Justin, Sam, and Gabe come over to my car. Romeo has to get to work at the family center where he volunteers, so I offered to drive everyon
e else home when he and Sam and I met up this morning. Up close, the two who got sprung appear the worse for wear, with red eyes and exhausted expressions.
“Hey,” I say as Justin gets into the passenger seat. “You all right?”
He reaches for my hand and smiles softly. “Seeing you, I’m doing a shitload better.”
When Gabe and Sam get in the back, my car is overloaded with testosterone.
After a few minutes of arguing—everyone wants to help everyone else on this bleary Sunday morning—it’s decided that I’ll take Gabe home first, and then he’ll take Sam home. Really, I could take them all home, but it’s obvious they’re trying to leave Justin and me alone.
Gabe’s directions land us in one of the few seedy areas in town. The houses are rundown. Yards are overgrown, and junk covers almost every porch. As I pull in front of Gabe’s house, an older man opens the broken door and wobbles out onto the first step. Between the wobble and the beer can in his hand, he appears half-drunk.
Pointing at Gabe with the hand holding the beer, the drunk shouts, “You know I’ve got a scanner, you little piece of shit. I told you the next time you get arrested not to come back! Your shit’s going to the curb!”
Getting out of the car, Gabe gives the man the finger.
The man points his own middle finger at Gabe. “Come in this house and I’ll break that off and stuff it up your ass, you little fucker.”
Gabe ignores him and goes straight to the driver’s side of his truck, which is parked on the curb.
Sam gets out next and bends down to Justin’s open window. “See you guys later,” he says. The man on the porch yells something else and after glancing over his shoulder, Sam adds, grinning, “Hopefully, we’ll make it out of here in one piece.” He gives Justin a soft punch on his shoulder, then runs to the passenger side of Gabe’s truck while the old guy on the porch continues yelling obscenities as he whips his beer can at the truck.
Not wanting to witness any more drama, I take off just as the can hits the truck with a thud.
Keeping my eyes on the road, I ask, “Do you want to go back to the dorm? Or you could come to my house. I’ll just have to take you home by two, when I pick up Ben.”
“Got a washer?”
My glance at him is questioning.
“I have to get out of these clothes. Jail stank.”
“Ah. Yeah, we’ve got a washer and dryer in the hallway closet.”
“Then your house it definitely is.”
Turning a corner, I say seriously, “I’m really, really sorry about last night.”
“Why would you be sorry?” His tone is incredulous.
“If it weren’t for me, Trevor wouldn’t have come and ruined everything.”
“Shit, Allie, you don’t have any control over that asshole. Although after last night, you should file a restraining order against the prick.”
His words surprise me. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“You should. But as for last night, don’t be sorry. He pushed you, and Gabe…Well, obviously, he has one crazy-ass temper.” He watches the passing scenery out the window for a moment. “I’ve always thought Gabe was a prick. Still do. But in the last twenty-four hours, I’m starting to understand why. He has one screwed-up life.”
“You guys talk last night?”
“A little. The shit he told me wasn’t pretty. After getting her ass kicked numerous times, his mom left him with that asshole on the porch when he was six.” He rubs his forehead. “I was seriously clueless about the shit life he has. I mean, we’re all aware there’s abuse and sick shit out there, but it’s totally different seeing it.”
I shudder at the thought of the person on the porch taking care of anyone, much less a six-year-old. I was really hoping the guy wasn’t related to Gabe. I was hoping for distant stepfather or maybe his mother’s awful new boyfriend.
“People like Gabe make me realize that my anger at my parents isn’t shit.”
I park in front of my apartment building, but don’t make a move to get out of the car. “Why are you angry at your parents?”
He shrugs. “Because they’ve always been too busy for me. Except when I fuck up. Then they stop their precious lives for about five seconds to bitch. But I’ve always had everything I needed and they’ve never been abusive.” He rubs a hand down his face. “Shit, Allie, did you see that house? Can you imagine if that was your father? I can’t imagine what Gabe has been through. Six years old…”
Yes, the glimpse we just got into Gabe’s life is heartbreaking. But the idea of Justin growing up and being ignored by his parents saddens me too. I reach for his hand and brush my thumb over his bruised knuckles. “You’re probably right. Gabe’s life has been far less pretty than yours, but that doesn’t excuse your parents’ negligence.”
“Forget about my parents,” he says, gripping his knees. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m worried about Gabe. They’re going to slap me with a class C misdemeanor if anything, but Gabe is going to get nailed without a lawyer. This is his third assault charge. The only way I’m going to get him to accept my paying for a lawyer is if I get one and he represents us both.”
“Can you afford a lawyer?”
“Yeah, my parents may not pay attention to me but they shower me with money.”
His tone is bitter, but since he doesn’t want to talk about his parents I simply say, “Then that sounds like a good idea.”
Nodding, he stares out the window, but I’m aware he’s not seeing anything.
“Hey,” I say, and pull him toward me. “How about a shower, then some sleep? You’ll have time to consider everything later. You need rest now.”
He covers my hand with his. “Damn. I got lucky when I walked into your shop.”
I grin at him. “Damn straight.”
Chapter 27
Justin
I’m exhausted. I’m wearing a pair of pink running shorts that are too tight and too short. I look like an idiot. I’ve been arrested and spent the night, awake, in jail. But as I step out of Allie’s bathroom and almost trip over a basket of toys, I’m feeling happy.
I don’t have to wander far into the apartment to find her. She’s at her dresser, putting away clothes from a basket on the floor. The room is small, with a double bed and done in all white: walls, furniture, and bedding. Except for her vibrant paintings on the walls and the long brown-speckled curtains on the window.
“Hey,” I say softly, moving behind her.
She smirks at me in the mirror above the dresser. “Nice shorts.”
My eyelids lower.
“No, really.” She turns and runs a hand across my chest. Her fingers find the ring in my nipple. “I like them.” Her finger circles my ring as her smoky eyes wander over my body. “They don’t leave much to the imagination.”
The tiny shorts are about to get tighter. “You’re making my imagination run wild.” I jerk her toward me by the waist and lower my mouth to hers. Neither of us is slow. The kiss doesn’t build to hot. It’s instantly heated and fierce.
Desperate for the feel of her skin, my fingers seize the bottom of her shirt and lift it.
She pulls away and reaches for a curtain, drawing it closed.
The blinds had let the morning light in, but the closed curtains cast the room in shadows.
I yank the curtains open. “I want to see you.”
She yanks them shut. “Maybe I’m not ready for you to see me.”
Confused as all hell, I blurt, “What does that mean?”
“I’m a little shy?”
I tilt my head in thought as I recall our time together. “Not that much.”
She leans against the dresser, eyes downcast. “I’ve been pregnant.”
“Huh?” I shake my head in confusion, like a cartoon character, as I realize she doesn’t want me to see her in the light. “Allie, you’re smoking hot. Trust me. I’ve watched you for months now. For shit’s sake, I’ve been with you.” I open the curtains. “
I’m dying to see you.”
“I’ve been pregnant,” she repeats softly, eyes still cast downward. “I have stretch marks, okay?”
I’m 100 percent out of my realm here. I can’t recall seeing any scars the last time we slept together. Though it was dark. And we were doing more touching than looking.
Her lips form a thin line and her fingers dig into the white wood at the edge of the dresser. “Trevor—he didn’t like them. He wanted to tattoo over them, but we weren’t together long enough.”
Ass. Fucking. Hole. I lean my forehead against hers. “Listen to me. You’re beautiful to me. Every single part. Any tiny flaw you have because you carried a baby is beautiful too.”
She blinks at me as if trying to believe my words.
I’d like to punch Trevor again. Twice. Allie’s never self-conscious. And she’s never been preoccupied with appearances. But this is obviously something Trevor made her feel inferior about. While she was just a teenage girl.
“You have to trust me about this,” I whisper as my fingers reach again for the bottom of her shirt.
She gives a slow and tentative nod, and lets me peel the shirt from her body.
With a plan of making this slow and sensual for both of us, I place my hands on her ribs—and she shivers as I turn her toward the mirror.
Her apprehensive gaze meets mine in the glass. My eyes sweep over her body. She’s slender but not too thin. Her pale skin is a lovely contrast to the bright ink on her arm along with the shine of the auburn curls falling below her shoulders. The soft swell of her breasts above her plain cotton bra lifts in a deep breath as I run my fingers up her arm and down the middle of her torso. There’s not a flaw in sight.
“Gorgeous,” I say, dragging my lips along her shoulder. She shivers again. I let her bra clasp loose then with a hook of my thumbs tug it off at each strap as she watches. “So gorgeous,” I repeat at the sight of her firm, high breasts.
As I cup her breasts, she falls against me with a soft sigh. Keeping one hand on her hardening nipple, I move my other hand to the button of her jeans and her gray eyes open wide. Not letting her back out, I unzip her jeans. She trembles. I push them down and they crumple to the floor at her feet.