by Gina Azzi
Nervous energy builds in my limbs, anxious for a release. My left knee bounces up and down while my fingers tap out a beat on the side of the SUV door.
Carter and Denver exchange another look as Carter pulls into a parking space and kills the engine. I exhale, trying to expel some of the electricity jumping around in my veins.
We're here.
Raf's is a hole-in-the-wall bar that's been around since the inception of our town, way back in the late 1800s. Sure, it’s changed a lot since then, but the general spirit is the same: old-timers bitching about new ways of life, has-beens and cougars trying to score a lay with the younger population, the usual military lot, and everyone in between who lives around here and hates it. But you can get a decent burger and fries, a pint, and, if the bartender likes you, a bourbon for eight bucks even. And even though it has been seven years, I’d bet my life that that hasn’t changed. What's not to love?
Walking in, the heavy smell of peanuts, stale beer, and frying oil, of something distinctly Raf's, hits me square in the chest and floods me with snippets of memories I’d forgotten about. Some of them are of me and my brothers kicking it here when we had nowhere else to go. Others are of the guys on my old football team and how we’d end up here for burgers after tough practices to bitch about Coach. But most of them scrape at old wounds and I wish I could just forget. Most of them feature her.
We take a booth in the back, near the darts. A couple of guys shoot pool in the corner. The speakers belt out an old throwback tune I haven't heard in forever but somehow brings me back to high school. The corners of my mouth tick up as a swell of nostalgia grips me.
Denver drops into the booth. "Glad we came?"
I slide in across from him. "Yeah. It was a good idea."
"Told ya," Carter says, ambling off to the bar to grab a few beers.
I take a look around, breathing in the familiarity of the place. A place that once was as consistent and comforting to me as my own home. Raf’s can be pretty rowdy at night but during the day, it’s full of old-timers reminiscing, families grabbing a bite, and everyone capping their meals with a piece of cherry pie on the days that Gladys baked. Scanning the bar, my eyes sweep over people I remember now that they're before me, but haven't thought of once while I was gone: Petey from the tackle shop, Jack from the bank, Vivian who won homecoming queen Denver's senior year.
My eyes settle on a girl toward the end of the bar. Her back is to me, her hair down. I pause, narrowing my gaze. A natural pull keeps my eyes trained on her. A realization sweeps through me, causing my palms to break out in a sweat.
Denver shifts across from me, following my line of sight. He whistles under his breath. "She's here."
I can't believe it's her. Even with her back to me, I can tell. I know the outline of her body, the way her dark hair falls around her shoulders, the delicate curve of her neck. Eons could pass, and still I would know her.
My eyes narrow at her thin frame, note the way her shoulders poke through the fabric of her shirt. She turns toward me then and I realize her skin is two shades too pale and a heavy tiredness hugs her eyes. She’s my Maywood, but not.
I feel bulldozed. As if the universe is playing a masterful trick on me. Is it really her? So much time and space are between us; we're different people than we once were, and still it's as if I'm transported back to high school, walking onto the football field. And instead of thinking about the next play, I'm trying to figure out how to approach and impress the beautiful girl that is so far out of my league, a ninety-yard Hail Mary couldn't bring her closer.
Her gaze sweeps over me suddenly, her eyes meeting mine as I stand, my focus zeroed in on her.
She freezes, her shoulders stiffening.
"You sure about this, Jax?"
I take another step, walking toward her. A flicker of uncertainty in her deep blue eyes has me pausing for just a second. Her face is impassive as she looks away. If it weren't for the clenching of her hands and her tight grip on the underside of the bar, I wouldn't think I affected her at all.
But I know I do.
I always have.
3
Evie
Jenny and Miranda have moved on to sugary sweet, brightly-colored beverages that remind me of all-inclusive vacations to Mexico or the Caribbean. Completely out of place in Raf's, we can't stop joking over how ridiculous they are, but Lenny insisted as he's trying to improve his bartending skills. Still nursing my G and T, but drinking more of my water, I smile at my friends’ antics, posing for a quick selfie.
I'm looking over Jenny's head, laughing at something she's saying, when my eyes fasten on his. A mirage. A shadow of my past still haunting my present, despite his absence from it.
It's the scar that causes me to falter, the sight of it, long and thin and pale, hooking around his left eyebrow like a jab. Like the ones he threw so many years ago on the football field. Back before I really knew him. Back before I fell in love with him.
Sometimes, it seems like yesterday and other times, another life completely. And yet staring at the man before me, tracing his scar with my eyes, it still takes a full minute for me to realize that it's him. Undeniably so.
Jaxon Kane has returned home.
And I've never left.
I swallow back a nervous giggle threatening to escape as I avert my gaze, my fingers moving to grip the underside of the bar for something to hold on to. Some of my drink sloshes over the rim of my glass when I knock it with my elbow, and I watch the little droplets as they form a sticky pool on the surface of the bar. I take a deep breath. Jax has always had this ability, to somehow knock me completely off balance while centering me at the same time.
"Is that..." Jenny’s eyes flick over Jax's shorn hair, his broad shoulders, the soft blue Henley that hugs the well-defined muscles of his biceps, the faded jeans hanging low on his hips.
"Jesus, he's still sexy as fuck," Miranda says, twirling her fuchsia cocktail umbrella.
"Mm-hmm," Jenny agrees, plucking a Maraschino cherry out of Lenny’s fruit tray and popping it into her mouth.
I want to roll my eyes at their antics or laugh off their words. Or chime in with something witty. Instead, I look down at my hands, my nails digging into the underside of the bar, my fingers stinging. I try to distract my mind from the sudden, albeit expected, burn of tears that smart behind my nose.
Jaxon Kane is back.
"Don't look now, " Miranda says, alerting me that Jax must be making his way over.
"Evie." His voice is low and husky, smooth and unhurried. It's exactly as I remember and completely different. More mature, worldly... harder.
My body involuntarily reacts to his nearness, to him. My hands grow clammy, my heart races in my chest; I feel my pulse quicken in my throat, throb in my temples. It’s thrilling and terrifying and overwhelming. I bite my lower lip, still looking at my hands, urging myself to pull it together.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I meet his gaze, forcing my lips to curl upwards in what I hope is a friendly, casual smile. I can be normal. "Jax."
A ghost of a grin shadows his lips but it's gone so quickly, it may have been a trick of the light. He smiles easily at my friends, greeting them as though he just saw them a few days ago at the mini-mart. I’m relieved when Jenny and Miranda chat him up, peppering him with random questions and allowing me a moment to collect myself.
It seems like only seconds pass before his eyes cut back to me. They’re the same seafoam green mixed with moss that I remember from high school but a graveness lines them now, a maturity loaded with experience, shadowed by sorrow. Nerves skate up my spine at the heady silence and I shiver.
"You're home." I swallow, desperate to fill the still space between us.
"Yeah," he answers, looking around the old, beaten-down bar. He runs a hand over his head, something he does when he's nervous. "How are you?" he asks, turning back to me, his eyes peering into mine.
He holds my gaze for several seconds, and I feel froz
en to the spot. A tick pulses in his jaw, and I know whatever he sees in me concerns him. He didn't expect to find me here, to randomly run into me at Raf's. He must think I'm lame, still hanging out in the town bar while he went off and explored the world, helped others, and changed lives.
"Great. How long are you here for?"
He continues to watch me. His eyes track how my knuckles turn white from my grip on the bar, the way I can't stop chewing the left corner of my mouth, and how I'm so nervous to be standing in front of him, I could worry myself away.
"For good," he says finally, rocking back on his heels. "I'm back, Evie."
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"Hey, Jax, you want a beer or something?" Miranda cuts in.
Jax turns to her and shakes his head, an easy grin on his lips. That's the thing about him; he's always warm, sincere, genuine. He lets others in as easily as I block them out. "No, thanks." He gestures toward a booth in the back. "I'm here with my brothers. Carter's already grabbing drinks."
"Carter's here?"
Jax's head swings toward me. "Yeah. Why? You want to come say hi?"
I shake my head, my skin tingling from his proximity, my heart short-circuiting as a sense of awareness consumes me. Jaxon Kane is here. Talking to me. "That's all right. You guys enjoy catching up."
He tugs the back of his neck before reaching toward me. His fingers squeeze my elbow gently, and I flinch out of habit. Guilt and embarrassment bloom in my cheeks the second I react, and he pulls away as if I've burned him. Maybe I have.
"You okay?"
"Fine. I, uh, I just need some air." I look past him and focus on the door, finally letting go of the bar and taking a half step back. "Good to see you, Jax. Welcome home."
I ignore Jenny's concerned expression and Miranda's wink as I cut around my friends and hurry out the front door of Raf's into the sticky, sweet night air.
Turning to the left, I walk around to the side of the bar, near the entrance to the kitchen. There's enough light that I can see anyone approaching but enough quiet that I can take a minute to process everything that just happened.
He's back.
Holy hell. I can't believe it. I never thought I would see him again. After he left, it felt like my world was ending. That summer, he kept reaching out, phone calls, emails, text messages. Every time I heard from him, the hole in my heart simultaneously stretched and shrank. I looked forward to the sound of his voice even though hearing it cut me to the core.
But then I asked him to stop. Demanded it. Told him to just let me go.
And he did.
I still remember the day he told me he enlisted. It haunts me almost as much as everything that came after.
He's nervous. I can tell the moment I descend the stairs, faltering momentarily on the landing. Whatever he's about to say, I already know I don't want to hear it. I wonder if I can turn around and stumble back up to my room and ignore whatever it is that has that look crossing Jax's face.
"Evie." His voice is low and husky, his hand reaching up to tug on the back of his neck. He won't meet my eyes, and a sinking sensation settles in my stomach, floods through my limbs, and keeps me rooted halfway down the staircase.
"What's going on?" I hate the shaky note in my tone.
Gripping the banister, I take the last three steps slowly, my eyes never leaving Jax as he struggles to look anywhere but at me.
"Can we, um, talk for a minute?" He turns toward the formal sitting room that my mom only uses for her obligatory military entertaining. It's stuffy and serious, and a room I never thought I'd find myself in with Jax.
Still, I follow him inside and perch on the edge of a stiff chair. Folding my hands in my lap, I clench my fingers together to keep them from shaking.
"Are you okay?" I ask, beseeching him with my eyes to look at me.
Finally, he turns toward me and nods, taking a seat across from me.
"Yeah. I, um, I just need to talk to you."
"Okay."
He blows out a deep breath, his cheeks puffing the air out in a long stream that ends on a near whistle. He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. Rocking forward, he moves as if to grab my hand but thinks better of it at the last second, letting his hand fall to his side. "Evie." A wry grin twists the corners of his mouth in a cross between a smile and a grimace. "I can't tell you how much this year, getting to know you, hell, falling in love with you, has changed my life. I want you to know how much you mean to me, how much your believing in me has given me a future I never could have imagined. I'll always be grateful to you, my Maywood, and I'll never forget what you and your family taught me, showed me." He chuckles but it sounds forced. "All of this," he says, gesturing around the great room with his hand, "was inconceivable to me before I knew you."
“You’ve changed my life too.” My voice is quiet but steady, and I’m grateful that the shaking of my hands hasn’t yet taken hold of my tongue.
An awkward silence I’ve never experienced with Jax stretches between us.
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” I admit.
Jax sighs, rubbing his hands together. "You've made me dream, Evie. You've made me realize my future could be full of so many opportunities and chances and, and things I never thought about since my mom passed,” he swallows, offering me a sad smile.
"I'm glad." I smile back. "You're so smart and talented, Jax. You could do anything you want. I'm happy we're going to New York together. West Point has been my dream for forever and you’re going to love John Jay College. I know you haven’t heard back from their financial aid department yet but I’m sure you’ll get a scholarship. Even if you have to defer and do a few courses at a community college first; it will all work out.”
He nods, his hand tugging the back of his neck again. "I want to do something I could be proud of. Be someone you could be proud of."
"I am proud of you."
He holds my eyes for a beat and in that pause, a flood of emotions flows between us—a torrent of shared moments and unspoken words. And I know whatever comes next is going to level me.
"I've enlisted. I report to Fort Bragg in two weeks." His voice is even and measured, his words belying his calm tone. His eyes are clear and focused. He watches intently for my reaction, waits for me to give him a piece of my mind like I normally do.
But I’m too shocked to think clearly. I sit in silence, my heart breaking, my world crumbling. Are we breaking up? I stand shakily, my mind jumping from one thought to the next. My face and neck heat with embarrassment, with rejection. A burn behind my eyelids and nose signals that I'm about to cry.
"Evie," he says gently, reaching for me.
But I escape his grasp, flee past him, and leave the stupid great room.
I bound up the stairs, my steps quickening the closer I get to the top, to the safety of my bedroom. Locking my bedroom door behind me, my back slides down the door until I'm a puddle on the floor, a torrent of tears melting with the sorrow and pain I carry.
Jax is leaving me.
He's enlisted.
He's Army now.
Letting my tears dry on my cheeks, I manage to calm my breathing as my embarrassment morphs into anger.
Today is the last day I will ever think about Jaxon Kane.
No, that's not true.
But today is the last day that I'll see him.
That much I know is certain.
Except it wasn't certain. Because I never left. And now he returned.
"You're going to give yourself a headache." Denver's gravelly voice cuts through the quiet, and I swing around to look at him. "Thinking that hard." He smirks, leaning back against the old brick of Raf's, one foot kicked up behind him, resting against the building. "You want?" He holds out a pack of cigarettes.
I shake my head, briefly alarmed that I didn't hear him approach. He must have exited through the kitchen after heckling the two cooks who work here.
"Haven't seen you around lately," h
e comments, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long pull.
"I haven't been around."
He exhales a cloud of smoke. "Yeah. You surprised to see him?"
"Yes."
"Eventually, y'all are going to have to talk, y'know? Clear the air."
"Guess so."
Denver chuckles. "I always appreciated this about you, Evie." He gestures toward me with the lit tip of his cigarette.
"What's that?"
"You're a woman of few words." He drops his head back against the brick, looking up at the dark sky. "You tell it like it is but only when you have to. The rest of the time, you give nothing away. Unless you’re giving Jax shit but it's been quite some time since I've seen you riled up like that.” He tosses the butt and grounds his heel into it.
"I think that's the most you've ever said to me."
He laughs, the sound rich and warm. "Probably. But sometimes, talkin’, really talkin’, and lettin’ go of the past and all the bullshit," he says, shrugging and kicking off the wall, "it can help."
I turn away from him, quiet for a beat, and let his words sink in. I feel him walk closer to me, stopping an arm's length away. He knows better than to touch me, even as a friend, even in a moment of comfort. "Think about it."
Then he's gone, and I'm alone with the black sky and my dark thoughts.
4
Jax
"How'd it go?" Carter asks, sliding a bottle of beer across the grimy table separating us. He nods in the direction of Evie's friends, except Evie is still outside "getting some air."
I shrug, gripping the bottle in my hand. Should I have followed her? What is the protocol when the girl that once made up all the good in your world can't talk to you for two-minutes without bolting?
"She's had it rough," Carter mumbles, watching her friends thoughtfully. "Just give her some time."