Break Point

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Break Point Page 15

by Rachel Blaufeld


  I loved it.

  I hated it.

  I wanted it.

  I despised needing it.

  My head hurt and my blood pumped with a vengeance. This was exactly what I’d spent years trying to avoid. Needing someone, being dependent on another person—emotionally.

  Yet my body insisted I grab onto this man; I’d dreamed of him for years. Every time I closed my eyes, his image filled my every thought.

  I heard him banging around in the bathroom and wondered if I could hide under the bed. My hand found my hipbone, and then my empty core dripping from him, weeping for more, and I was instantly disgusted with myself. Having come completely undone within weeks of Drew worming his way back into my life, I pitied myself.

  My thoughts were as rumpled as the quilt underneath me.

  “Hey.”

  He was back, wiping me clean, drying me, kissing me, and loving me like I’d imagined so many times. Lingering touches along my skin triggered my nerve endings.

  Physically, I wanted more.

  My overactive brain wanted my mouth to scream stop, but my heart wouldn’t allow it.

  “Come here,” he said, and I did.

  I crawled right up to him in my stupidly small bed with the pink quilt and lavender shams. Darla had loved both when we saw them at the secondhand store. I couldn’t say no to her clapping and jumping—the same way I couldn’t deny her father.

  “It’s going to be okay, Jules. Let yourself fall. I can hold us both; I can brace your fall. I even have enough room for three in my arms.”

  My entire body shook and shivered at the idea of it.

  He kept muttering these sweet nothings until I must have dozed off. I vaguely remembered waking up in the middle of the night when Drew unlatched the door and left it slightly ajar.

  “In case Darla needs you,” he said softly.

  Then I drifted off again, dreaming of his home and Darla settled in his guest bed, but in my dream, it was her very own room. She was drinking iced tea mixed with fresh lemonade, and petting a turtle. Drew was walking around the house shirtless, his tattoos on display for the world to see, but instead of the crest there was a different one that read DARLA inside a heart. I was barefoot and pregnant again, this time with my feet laid up on a pillow—not working forty hours a week at a shit job.

  I woke trembling and chilled.

  I had to get the hell out of here. He’d left years ago—was his word really worth trusting?

  No.

  He hadn’t been strong enough back then. He ran faster than I could say I’m pregnant. Forget that I never even tried to tell him.

  This wasn’t going to work. I needed my control back. Hadn’t I learned my lesson years ago when it had been stripped from me . . . twice . . . first by my former teammates, then by Drew when he abandoned me.

  I liked when the ball was in my court. The advantage was all me, or as they say in tennis, “Ad in.”

  Not out.

  Jules

  After years of playing Claire, dutiful server, I knew exactly how to play the role of happy-go-lucky the morning after. I pasted on a smile and drank my coffee with Drew watching me over the rim of his mug. Darla seemed as unfazed over the sleepover as she did about learning my real name.

  I let Drew take her to school. He didn’t know it, but it was a parting gift.

  “We’re going to tell her soon,” he whispered in my ear as he went out the door.

  Not if I have anything to do with it.

  As soon as he was gone, his SUV pulling out of the lot, I called Bryce claiming to be sick. Then I packed up our belongings and transferred them to my car, shoving most in the trunk and front seat. I left the furniture. Most of it had been there when we moved in anyway.

  When it was time to pick up Darla at school, I pulled my fully loaded sedan up next to the sidewalk and beckoned her with a wave and a smile.

  “Hey, Mom. Drew went to work.”

  “I know, sweetie.”

  “Is Molly coming tonight?” Darla asked from the backseat, the disarray around her going unnoticed.

  “We’re going to take a quick trip tonight. It’ll be fun,” I lied.

  “What? What about school?”

  “You can miss a few days, Dar.” Clearly, I hadn’t thought a damn thing through. I dreamed up the words, serving them up like dessert. “I’ve missed spending time with you since the summer and being busy with the move.”

  “Oh,” Darla said with a smile. I had her at I missed you. “Is Drew coming?”

  “No, sweetie.”

  Turning onto the freeway, I went over my bank account in my head. I turned up the pop music and planned the next few days. I would tell Bryce I was still sick through the weekend. Darla and I could spend a long weekend in a motel, maybe near Jacksonville. I could scout out a diner job, where I could work days and be home at night. Make a lot of tips and keep myself under the radar.

  “Why? I like Drew, and I have my clinic this weekend with the boys. I’m tougher than them. That’s why Drew calls me a superstar.”

  It had been five minutes, and all my daughter talked about was Drew. I was pretty sure he was sitting in his office dreaming about her. Just her. Not me. If I wasn’t careful, he’d take her away from me.

  Defeat rained over my plan and me. I knew it was flawed. I knew he would seek me out; nothing would stand between him and Darla. Yet I kept my foot on the gas. I had to follow through.

  I was a desperate junkie trying to get clean and running away from their dealer.

  I needed the space. He needed to understand that.

  I needed strength and direction. He should have seen that.

  I needed him. He didn’t need me.

  He’d been the one to leave the first time.

  Drew didn’t get to waltz back in at his leisure and take over the life I’d built. It might be small, but it was mine.

  Drew

  “What the hell do you mean, she’s not working tonight?”

  I loomed over the hostess, who was backing away from me as fast as she possibly could on her sky-high heels.

  “She’s sick.”

  “What?” My words were getting louder.

  I’d texted Jules a few times when I left work and didn’t receive an answer. I thought it was because she was busy with work. Now I felt like an ass, and sadly, this hostess was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “That’s all I know. Bryce said she was sick and we were short staffed.”

  “Where is he?”

  Like manna from heaven, the ass appeared out of nowhere.

  “What the fuck? Jules is sick?” I pulled out my phone and checked to see if she’d answered any of my texts.

  “That’s what she said,” Bryce answered, clearing his throat.

  “When?”

  “Early this morning, she called me. Sounded fine over the phone, but something’s been going around.”

  “Damn it.” I didn’t bother answering the douche.

  Turning on the heel of my Pumas, I headed toward the valet stand and jumped in my car, which was still parked out front. With a five thrown out the window, I sped out of the lot and toward Jules’s apartment, knowing the whole time she wouldn’t be there.

  It was my fault. I’d pushed too hard, and she was pulling away.

  But this time, she didn’t get to keep my daughter from me.

  “Jules!” I banged on her door and got nothing.

  I fucking knew it.

  Defeated and destroyed, I went back to my place. My throat was so constricted with emotion, I didn’t even think I could swallow a drink.

  I ripped off my dress shirt, the buttons popping off and flying around the room, leaving me in a white undershirt. I tossed off the shirt, shoved out of my jeans, and walked to my room in nothing but my bare ass. Bypassing the kitchen, I didn’t even set the alarm.

  My bed beckoned me, but I couldn’t sit on it. If I did, I would think of her in my arms the night before.

  I pulled
a chair to the window and sat with my head leaning against the glass, watching the ocean lap against the shore. Over and over and over.

  Like us, the water kept finding the sand. I had to believe we would meet again.

  I ran my hand over my head. My hair was shorter than back then, but my heart was bigger. The idea of Jules had never left my heart. She’d been the standard since I met her.

  And now there was Darla.

  Drew

  “Sully, I need some help.” My voice was raspy and weak.

  After leaning against the window for an hour, my body had craved the drink I couldn’t swallow earlier. Now I was hung over, exhausted, and heartbroken.

  “What’s up? You sound like shit.”

  “My girls are gone.”

  “Maybe it’s for the best?”

  “Shut it. I need someone to help me. She couldn’t have gone far.”

  “I got a guy over near Miami. Russell. He’s good. Does some work for me in my business when I need to investigate someone.”

  “Text me his number, okay?”

  “Yes, sir. You need anything?”

  “Just my kid and my woman.”

  “You still watching my money?”

  “Your money’s fine, Sull. Text me the number,” I said, and I hung up.

  The gym had already called. I was becoming a regular deadbeat. Missing workouts, drinking myself into a stupor, and not supporting my kid. Soon I’d be waking up on a park bench somewhere, stinking to high hell. I was like a homeless hobo without my family.

  When my phone chimed with a text, I hit the number and called.

  Russell was a University of Miami graduate who fell in love with the weather. His college girlfriend had gone missing after graduation, and he fell into this kind of work. Now, he found people and dug up dirt full time. I was sure his clientele was a who’s who of Florida.

  I told him what I knew. The sedan’s make, model, and color. Red hair for Jules and strawberry blond for Darla, approximate heights and weights. Bryce’s name and number, but I let him know I’d be visiting the ass myself as soon as we hung up.

  Russell warned against doing that, and I politely told him to shut the fuck up.

  I felt like such a chump. I didn’t even know what bank she used or Darla’s pediatrician. I was little to no help. Visiting Bryce was the least I could do.

  “Come in,” the dumbass called from behind his office door. When Bryce saw me, he stood up from behind his desk. “Shit. I didn’t know it was you.”

  “Surprise.” I mocked him with a smirk. “Have you heard from her?” I asked, cutting right to the chase. I had no need for small talk with the bastard.

  “This morning. Still sick.”

  “You know that’s bullshit.”

  “I also know Claire.”

  “You mean Jules. Obviously, not as well as you think.”

  “I know the more you push, the harder she pulls back. I’ve learned that over the years. I also know she’s the biggest, baddest mama bear when it comes to Darla. You must’ve done something to scare her off.”

  “Don’t fucking tell me what I did. You had her on the phone and didn’t find out where the hell she was. You knew she was bullshitting.”

  “It’s not my place to push her. I’m her friend.”

  “Some fucking friend. You’re not even worried.”

  “I don’t know what you want from me, Mr. King, but Claire . . . Jules . . . is not my responsibility outside the restaurant.”

  “Fuck off.” I turned to walk out the door, but remembered Russ. “Listen, some dude named Russell is gonna call you. I suggest you answer all his questions and be prepared to hand over your phone. Jules and Darla may not be your responsibility, but they sure as hell are mine.”

  I stormed out of the Southern and out to my car a desperate man.

  Where the fuck was she?

  Later that day, pacing my home office, I knew what I was about to do would turn out to be either incredibly stupid or naive. But I didn’t care, because I was desperate.

  I was used to being in control, and I could see that it wasn’t helping me with Jules. She was gone, and shit was more out of control than if she were here.

  I sat down in my desk chair and pulled up a window for Google to search for Jules’s mom. It wasn’t hard to find her, even though Smith was a common name.

  How many Genevieve Smiths could there be in Ohio? Not many. In fact, there was only one, and when I found her number, I didn’t hesitate to dial it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Smith, my name is Andrew King. I don’t know if you remember me, but I was Juliette’s coach at Hafton.”

  “I know exactly who you are, Mr. King, and I most definitely remember you. In fact, every time I see a new picture of my granddaughter, I think of you.”

  There you have it, folks. Jules’s mother knows I slept with her.

  “Um . . .”

  “Did you know my daughter had a baby? I never understood why she didn’t want to tell you. Please tell me she finally did.”

  “Yes, I know now. And I have to say, if I knew then, I would never have left.”

  I was trying to talk a good game. This woman was my only resource in trying to find Jules until Russ called.

  “Well, she was a stubborn one, leaving Ohio the way she did. She thought I didn’t know what was happening. She was always so naive. I guess not anymore with the whole single-mom thing.”

  “Do you know where she might be? She left town for a few days, and I’m trying to connect with her.”

  “Honey, I haven’t kept track of her since she gave up a tennis scholarship for your damn baby.”

  Clearly, I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this woman.

  “What is it that you want, Andrew? I don’t really understand.”

  “I want to do right by my daughter, and yours.”

  “Pretty sure that ship’s sailed.”

  “All right, well, thanks. If you hear from her, can you tell her I called?”

  “I won’t,” she said firmly, and the line went dead.

  At least now I knew why Jules didn’t have her mom helping her.

  Jules

  “Mommy, tell me about when you were Jules,” Darla whispered into the night.

  We arrived in Jacksonville last night. I’d rented a room for cash at a motel near the water. Today we spent some time in the sand and eating junk food. I’d even fooled myself into thinking it was a mini-vacation.

  “I loved tennis. Like you, sweetie. And I was a good student. Like you too.”

  We were snuggled in a king-sized bed, the TV glowing despite the volume being off.

  “Tennis is fun.” Darla curled in closer to me. “And turtles and fish. Maybe we’ll see some dolphins in the ocean tomorrow?”

  “Maybe in the morning. We have to go out early, because then we’re going to head on to our next stop.”

  “Where?” Her tiny toes rubbed on my calf.

  “It’ll be a surprise for you, baby girl.”

  “I’m not a baby, Mom.”

  “You’ll always be my baby.”

  “Will I go to a new school? I just made some friends, and we never did the sleepover.”

  This was something I didn’t get. I never had close friends. My mom wasn’t affectionate, and growing up, I couldn’t help but be standoffish. No matter what anyone said, I blamed myself for what happened at my first school. If I had just tried a bit harder to be cool, fun, easygoing . . . anything other than myself.

  “And I like Ms. Green and Drew.”

  “I know, honey.”

  Stupid Drew. He’d made me think I was normal back then, and not the odd duck out. He made me feel wanted.

  Darla sneaked up on my cheek with a kiss. “But I love you the most.”

  At least I knew I hadn’t repeated history. I gave her love and affection, unlike my mom. Although, I’d just taken her father away from her for the second time.

  “You’ll have friends no
matter where you are, Dar. You’re so lovable.”

  “I like my new ones. That’s it, but yeah . . .” Her words drifted off, as faint as the light of the TV. Her breathing evened out and she relaxed, her weight sinking into my chest.

  Most parents complained about sleeping with their kids. They took up too much room. They snored. They kicked. They needed their space.

  Not me.

  I fell asleep thinking of how much I loved my daughter, and how I at least did one thing right in life.

  “Mom, Mom.”

  Someone shook my arm.

  “Hmm?”

  “Mom.”

  This time the shake was a little harder.

  “Darla! You okay?” Instantly awake, I popped up in bed like I’d been struck by lightning.

  “There’s someone knocking on the door.”

  That’s when I heard it. A few raps on the door, followed by a hand smacking the wooden surface.

  “Go into the bathroom,” I told Darla.

  Once she was safely inside the bathroom with the door closed, I walked over and looked through the peephole. On the other side was a big guy, maybe six foot four, a golden beard covering the lower half of his face and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Next to him was Drew, also sporting some scruff, wearing ripped jeans and a ratty polo shirt. He didn’t look good.

  “Jules, I know you’re there,” Drew called out. “I can see the shadow of your feet under the door. Open up.”

  I opened the door just a crack, but left the chain securely fastened. “Who the heck is the big guy?”

  “Russ. He helped me find you.”

  “Is he a lawyer?”

  “What?” Drew pressed his face near the crack, coming close enough to smell my breath.

  I whispered, “A lawyer? Someone who’s here to take Darla away?”

  “Fuck no.” He stepped away from the door and raised his hands in the air. “I’m not trying to take Darla away, Jules.” His eyes were wide, and his words came out in short breaths. He seemed offended at my accusation.

  “She’s mine.”

  “Yes, I know. Ours. But I never want to take her mom away from her.”

 

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