by K. A. Linde
“Fuck, Julia.”
“My fear didn’t go away just because he’d dragged me up to the top of the building. My fear of Dillon isn’t going to disappear just because he can’t reach me anymore either.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you?” I asked. “Because I don’t think you understand. I don’t want us to be together.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand that, Julia.”
“Just because Dillon is behind bars…doesn’t change any of the other reasons I broke up with you. I wish it did, but if I’m not going to be the victim anymore, then I have to apply that to all things in my life. I’m sorry.” I choked on that word. “I really am sorry.”
I tried to get out of the car, but he grabbed my hand. “Julia, please don’t go.”
“Austin…”
“It’s really over?”
His eyes searched mine for a flicker of hope. But I didn’t give him one.
“Yeah…it really is.”
I wanted to feel good about walking away and taking control of my life. But, when I entered Landon and Heidi’s house without Austin, I just felt empty. I wanted Austin. But I wanted him sober, honest, and without an ex-girlfriend who just might show up naked at his place. I couldn’t make him want those things. And he hadn’t proven to me that it was even possible. Knowing all the addicts in my life who had failed over and over and over again, I doubted it ever would be.
Thirty-Three
Austin
I stared at the half-empty bottles of liquor still in my house. I’d gotten rid of almost everything. Patrick had become the new owner of the whiskey and scotch that I was only able to get directly from the distributor. I hadn’t been able to throw those out. I’d cut back so much that I had nothing left in the cabinet in my house. I’d once had a fully stocked wet bar. I could have made a Bloody Mary any hour of the day.
God, I’d kill for a perfectly made Bloody Mary.
But I’d have to settle for this.
I took out all the bottles. A halfway-filled bottle of Maker’s Mark. A quarter of Johnnie Walker Blue. Some Grey Goose. A shot-sized bottle of Fireball that I hadn’t been able to part with. Basil Hayden’s and Four Roses were down to the last dregs.
I could work with this.
I popped two pain pills and chased them with a shot of Maker’s. Julia had left me. There was no coming back from that. None at all.
She’d been dead inside when she delivered the news. She wouldn’t take me back. We couldn’t fix this.
I couldn’t fix anything. That was Jensen’s forte. He was the family fixer. He would have been able to make this work. Even Landon had fucking figured his shit out with his crazy ex-wife to land Heidi. I was the only one who found it impossible to keep a girlfriend. Then, I’d put myself out on the line, and she’d walked.
And, fuck, how could I blame her? Would I want to deal with my train wreck?
I wondered how much I would have to drink to forget about Julia. Is there an amount of alcohol that’s capable of that? I didn’t know, but I figured I’d give it a try.
I spent a solid hour binge-watching whatever the hell was on TV at that time while taking shots. At some point, I stopped even recognizing the show. I stopped recognizing anything. There was just the alcohol and then the buzz that quickly converted into being full-out drunk.
Not that I planned to stop there. I was still thinking about Julia. Trying to figure out how the hell I had let this shit happen.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I screamed as anger ripped through me.
I stood, stumbling around the living room. I kicked the coffee table across the room and smashed the lamp off of the side table. I grabbed the bottle I’d been finishing and threw it hand over fist into my mounted seventy-inch TV. The screen splintered and looked as fucked up as I felt. The glass had exploded on impact and scattered across the room.
I wheezed and clutched my ribs. Even the alcohol couldn’t stop the pain there, it seemed. Motherfucker.
My ass crashed back down on the couch, and I clutched my head. I needed more. More alcohol. More everything. Something to make me forget.
No, not something.
Someone.
My phone was in as shitty shape as my TV was, but it still miraculously worked after I plugged it back in. I’d need to replace it, but right now, it did the trick.
“Austin?” Maggie said warily.
“Mags,” I breathed.
“This is a surprise.”
“Come over.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Not drunk enough.”
She laughed a low throaty thing. “I thought you were dating someone.”
“Do you want to get fucked or not, Maggie?”
“Has that ever been a question?”
“Then, get your ass over here.”
I hung up on her before she could respond.
She’d show. She always did.
The way I’d treated her at the Parade of Homes was the outlier in our relationship. She’d been shocked by my behavior because I’d never treated her poorly. Even though we didn’t have an official thing, we’d always had fun.
And, God, I could use some fun. Forgetting. Just fucking forgetting.
Fifteen minutes later, a knock at the door roused me from my melancholy. I yanked open the door.
“Maggie,” I slurred.
She looked like sin itself. Her dark hair wild. A blood-red dress. High heels.
“Austin,” she gasped. “What happened to you?”
She reached out and tentatively ran her manicured nail down my cheek and across my split lip. I’d almost forgotten that my face was a road map of bruises.
“Julia’s ex’s fist found my face.”
“Christ,” she whispered. “I hope you got in a few hits yourself.”
I laughed, which turned into a cough, which hurt like a bitch. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
She shrugged, as if to say, Suit yourself.
I stepped forward and ran a hand down her side, over the silky material of her dress. She leaned into the touch and seemed to be searching my face for something.
“I wasn’t sure I’d show,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I thought you’d gone soft, Wright.”
“Why don’t you find out?” I suggested.
She laughed, as soft as a purr. “There’ll be time for that. But maybe you should let me inside first.”
I shoved the door open, and she strode in.
Her feet stilled after only a few feet. “What the hell happened to your house? Did Julia’s ex do this to your house, too?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it?” she asked, whirling around on me. “This is fucked up. Tell me what happened.”
“I got pissed off.”
She arched an eyebrow at me. “You’ve lost it.”
“Don’t,” I ground out. “I didn’t call you here for therapy. I thought you were the only one left who wouldn’t lecture me.”
“Whatever,” she said, kicking the broken lamp and stepping over a piece of broken glass. “I wasn’t expecting a construction zone.”
“Bedroom is still clean,” I said with a smirk.
“I see the Maker’s is all over the floor. Anything else for me?”
“Got some Goose and a shot of Fireball.”
“What the hell?” she said as I followed her into the kitchen. “Where is the rest?”
“Gave it up.”
She snorted. “Sure looks like it, Wright.”
I leaned heavily against the counter as she popped open the Grey Goose and downed it straight, like a lady.
She smacked her lips together and shivered. “Yum,” she muttered.
“Want a chaser?”
“Do I look like a pussy?”
I grinned and swept my eyes down her.
She held her finger up and wagged it in my face. “Easy there.”
“No
intention of going easy.”
I strode toward her, backing her into the counter. Her nails dug into my T-shirt, and she dragged me hard against her.
“I don’t have to know what’s going on with you, Austin.” Her hands slipped under my shirt, and her nails scraped across the waistband of my shorts. “But I know something is.”
“Does it matter?” I snapped.
She shrugged. “You didn’t call me for therapy, right?”
My hands gripped the back of her thighs and hoisted her onto the countertop. I gasped in pain as my ribs seized under the pressure. Holy fuck!
“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Fine, Mags. Just…shut up.”
I grabbed her face between my hands and crushed our mouths together. She was still for only a second before returning the kiss. Her legs wrapped around my back, tugging me closer. And I tried to will all the anger I’d been drowning in into that kiss. Fuck everything else going on in my life.
I wanted to forget. I wanted someone to help me forget.
But I wasn’t forgetting.
Because that name still rattled around in my head. The brown hair wasn’t red. The blue eyes weren’t brown. Her lips didn’t taste like cherry. She wasn’t covered in ink. Her body didn’t match mine.
I tried to force it. I didn’t need feelings with Maggie. We never had. I just needed one night. Then, maybe I’d learn how to move on. Learn how to be as dead inside as Julia was.
Here’s to hoping.
Thirty-Four
Julia
“I have looked at seven thousand new apartments today, and I hate them all.” I pushed my computer back and slumped into the couch.
“You’ll find the one,” Heidi assured me. “What about this one?” She pointed to the last one I’d looked at.
It was on the first floor with a security plan and a fence with code access to get inside and, and, and…
All the features I wanted. Yet none of them fit.
“No, I don’t like it.”
“Well, you don’t have to get a new place right away.”
“I don’t want to impose,” I said at once.
“You’re not imposing. We have plenty of house, and it’s no trouble at all.”
I still felt bad. Even though it hadn’t been very long since everything went down. It didn’t help that I couldn’t seem to sleep. Not without nightmares jolting me out of bed in a cold sweat. I was exhausted and had no energy. I wanted this all to be over.
Heidi seemed to notice that. “Let’s look more tomorrow. We should relax until Landon gets up. He really likes his beauty sleep.”
I shot her an appreciative smile. “That sounds good.”
“I could make us omelets. Landon is the better cook, but eggs, I can do.”
“Sure.”
I’d go for anything that didn’t involve people looking at me with pity. I knew I was pitiful. I didn’t need to see it when everyone looked at me. I might have saved my own life, but I still felt like the victim. And it didn’t help that everyone was treating me like one.
“Great!” Heidi hopped up and started getting things out for the omelet.
I grabbed my computer again and flicked through a few more apartments. Not that anything was jumping out at me.
The doorbell rang. My head popped up, and I stared at Heidi with frightened eyes. Fuck, even the doorbell was freaking me out.
“Don’t worry. I got it,” Heidi said. She went to the door and pulled it open. “Austin, what a surprise.”
“Hey, Heidi. Is Julia still here?”
“She is.”
“Can I talk to her? It’ll only be a minute.”
Heidi’s head swiveled back to me. “Julia?”
I breathed in deeply and then stood. Man, I was not looking forward to this again. I didn’t care how persistent Austin was; I wasn’t about to change my mind. Not with things the way they were.
“It’s fine,” I told Heidi.
She nodded and brushed my shoulder as she went back into the kitchen.
“Let’s go outside,” I suggested.
“Okay. But it’s not going to take long. Jensen is waiting for me.”
He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, and I saw Jensen’s giant truck idling on the street. Strange.
“Still having trouble driving?” I asked as we stepped outside.
“No. I’m leaving.”
My head snapped up to him. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. Jensen is taking me to rehab. I’m going to be gone for the next three months at an inpatient facility. Jensen set it all up. But I wanted to see you. I, uh…” He glanced off for a second, as if arguing with himself. “I wanted to tell you some stuff before I went.”
“Okay,” I said hesitantly. “You’re…you’re really going to rehab?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief from my voice.
Austin had rejected the idea of getting professional help from the start. He’d never thought it would be helpful or that he needed it or that he even had a problem. He’d just done whatever he wanted, never really improving. It was almost too good to be true to think that he was actually doing this.
“Yes, I am.” He gestured for us to sit on the outdoor furniture in front of Landon’s house. “Jensen didn’t even think that I should stop and talk to you before going, but I had to.”
“Even though we’re broken up?”
“Especially because we’re broken up.”
I didn’t know how to take that. “Well, I’m glad you’re going. I think it’s a really good idea. I hope it helps you.”
“Me, too. Because you were right.”
“About?”
“Everything.” He ran a hand back through his hair. “You and Jensen and my family and everyone. You all saw me for what I was and what I was doing to myself. I didn’t really realize until this morning. I’d thought I did, but I was fooling myself.”
“What made you see the light?”
He winced. “Just…hear me out.”
I braced myself because I had a feeling whatever he was about to say was not something I wanted to hear.
“What did you do?” I asked low, worried.
“I emptied the rest of the bottles in my house last night and mixed them with the pain pills I’d gotten from Noah. It was stupid, but I just…” He shook his head in frustration. “I defaulted to how I always acted. I was so fucking hurt. After I’d gotten the shit beat out of me, you broke up with me. Just abandoned me.”
“Austin—”
“No, no, I’m not mad at you. Well, not anymore. I get your reasons. I get why you did it. I get why you don’t trust me. I don’t trust me.” He looked like he wanted to reach out for me, but he didn’t. “I wanted to go back to not feeling. I didn’t know how to feel this intensely. I didn’t know how to react to what I felt without finding the bottle.” He shrugged and glanced off. “But that isn’t why I’m here. I’m just…fuck, I really want to avoid this conversation.”
Tension vibrated through every muscle as I waited for the news, and I didn’t even know what it was. “Tell me.”
“When I got drunk, I invited Maggie over.”
I froze and stopped breathing. “Wow.”
“Julia—”
I shook my head and stood up. “Go fuck yourself, Austin.”
“No, no, no,” he said, running ahead of me to block my path.
“Get out of my fucking way. You don’t get to come here and throw that bullshit at me.”
“I’m not,” he insisted. “I didn’t sleep with her.”
“And you expect me to believe you? Again?”
“I’m not asking you to get back together with me, Julia. I’m not even asking you to forgive me. I hardly forgive myself for even inviting her over. I’m asking you to listen. You can call Maggie yourself if you want. Though you’re probably not her favorite person right now.”
“I’m not her favorite person?” I nearly shrieked.
All of that cool, calm I�
�d felt toward Austin shattered, and I was left reeling. What the fuck?
“No, you’re not. Because I invited her over. We…made out,” he said with another well-placed wince. “And I thought that being with her would make me forget you. But she was all wrong. Nothing could make me forget you. No one else could ever be you. I realized too late that you are perfect for me. Perfect for me in ways I hadn’t even known.”
“That doesn’t make up for what you did. We’d been broken up for a day!”
“I know, I know. It was stupid. I got wasted, like I always did, and did shit that I had done back when I was so fucked up all the time. But I didn’t sleep with Maggie. I feel bad enough that we even kissed. That I even thought that I’d be able to get you out of my head.” He reached for me but stopped before his hand met my arm. Then, he regretfully dropped it. “I told her to leave. I told her how I felt about you. That I never had feelings for her. That I’d never have feelings for her, and all of this was a mistake. I wasn’t particularly eloquent, as I was drunk off my ass.”
“I don’t even know why you came here to tell me this,” I said, seething. “Why you even bothered.”
“Because I wanted the truth out there. I didn’t want to hold out on telling you and you find out from someone else. For you to think the worst.”
“Too late,” I spat.
“Yeah, I deserve that,” he said. “You were right about me. And, when I woke up, hungover and alone, this morning, I realized that I had proven every fear you had about me right. That I was a drunk, lying addict.”
“Asshole,” I finished for him.
“That, too. You have every reason to hate me. I am all those things, and you deserve better than me.”
“So, you’re going to rehab to try to be the man I deserve?” I asked with a sarcastic bite to my voice.
We all knew how well that would fucking work.
“No, I fully understand that this might be the last time I see you. I don’t want to accept that, but I can eventually if that’s what you really want. But I’m going to rehab for me. To be the man I want to be…that I need to be.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I wanted to believe every word he’d said. I hoped he had all the best intentions, but I’d been burned so many times. It was hard to stand there and hear him say the same bullshit I’d heard from my dad…from Dillon.