“Hello?” I asked, bringing the phone to my ear.
“Juliet. That sweet voice of yours is like music to my ears, sweetheart. How are you?”
Sick to my stomach.
I dropped into the chair by the desk, trying to manage the sudden weakness in my legs.
“Juliet? Are you there?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Yes. What do you want, Greg?”
“I want a little more respect for your old man, but what are you gonna do?”
I wanted to correct him. Wanted to remind him that he wasn’t my father, that the man who deserved that title had died when I was five years old. He hadn’t gotten the opportunity to raise me, no. And I only barely remembered him. But I remembered enough to understand that they were very different men. This one was just garbage the woman who birthed me married.
“I expected to see you at your mother’s service. You had no right to not be there.”
“I’m hanging up the phone,” I said, finally finding my tongue, but I didn’t follow through quickly enough for him to not respond.
“Now hold on there. Your mother left something here at the house for you, but if you don’t want to hear about it, then…”
My eyes narrowed. “She left something… for me?”
“Letters. After you pulled your little temper tantrum and moved outta here like you was grown, she wrote this stuff out. Whole box of them. I can just throw them—”
“No!” I pushed my hand into my hair, gripping a fistful of hair that I honestly considered ripping out at the root, anything to distract from the turbulence I was feeling. “I…please don’t.”
You aren’t supposed to care, Jules. You told yourself not to.
“I can give you an address to send them,” I offered. “But… please. I want to see them.”
“I haven’t laid eyes on you in how many years? You haven’t picked up a phone and called? But you expect me to go out of my way?” he asked, indignant. “You want them, you come get them.”
“No,” I hissed, as my heart slammed against the front of my chest. “I’m not doing that.”
“Why? You too good for this house?”
“You know why.”
He scoffed. “Oh God, don’t tell me you’re still on that nonsense from years ago. I know teenagers with all their raging hormones and all that… y’all can get a little confused, it’s easy. But surely you’re old enough now to recognize your mistake. That it was all a misunderstanding.”
I squeezed my eyes shut again, biting down on my lip to keep from screaming. I wasn’t confused then, and not now either.
I hadn’t misunderstood anything.
With my eyes still closed, I swallowed hard, trying to keep my intense nausea at bay. “If you could please just—”
“I already told you, I’m not doing anything. I married your mother, kept a roof over your head, clothes on your back for you to prance around for those little knucklehead boys and you can’t even show some gratitude? You want the letters, you come get them, and don’t bring that cousin of yours or any of your little friends to this house. You got two weeks. And then I’m throwing this shit out.”
And then he hung up.
As if I’d been the one to interrupt his great day with a phone call that left him feeling like swallowing that handful of pills ten years ago wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.
No.
No.
I’d worked long and hard to move past that feeling, and I wouldn’t – couldn’t – allow him to take me there again. I wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but I didn’t do either, because I heard the chime over the door telling me that Troy was back. All I wanted was to forget that phone call had even happened so I swallowed it.
It must’ve shown on my face though.
As soon as I stepped into the hall to find him with his earbuds in, bobbing his head and rapping along with whatever he was listening too, his whole expression changed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, hands full of bags with the Pot Liquor logo. “Something happened?”
I shook my head. “Stupid phone call. I don’t want to talk about it. I want to eat. Those bags smell amazing.”
He stared at me for a few more seconds, and then gave me a subtle nod accepting my desire to change the subject. A simple gesture that meant more than he knew.
“We got lucky, actually. Last two orders of those wings I was telling you about.”
“Nice! We can eat out front at the prop table, instead of squeezing into the office,” I told him, following as he turned to go back down the hall. I showed him where to put the bags down, then to the bathroom to wash our hands, and then back out front to settle in to eat.
The smell of the food must’ve roused Storm from her nap, because we found her circling the table from the floor, nose in the air like she was trying to figure it out. I felt a little bad, but only for a moment, before I watched in awe as Troy removed a plastic to-go bowl from the bags with the rest of the food, then spread out a paper napkin on the floor before he put it down and opened it.
Storm dove into it immediately, and I stepped closer to see her chowing down on what appeared to be a chopped baked chicken breast and brown rice. Troy put a clean, empty bowl beside her, and then cracked open a bottle of water to pour her some. It took him a second to notice that I was watching his every move, and when he did, he looked up with a sheepish, sexy smile that made my chest tight.
“What?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know.
I shook my head. “Nothing really. It’s just… it’s really sweet that you ordered food for Storm too.”
He ran a hand over his beard, clearly a little embarrassed by the attention I was giving his kindness toward her. “I mean… I guess I just didn’t want to leave her out. You want to see what this chicken is hitting for though?”
“Sure,” I told him, letting him change the subject. “Like I said, it smells amazing.”
He nodded, biting his lip. “You think it smells good, wait until you taste it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
The chicken was amazing, and so were my salad and mac and cheese, and the dressing and cranberry sauce I stole from his plate so much that he finally just pushed it closer to me, and helped himself to my sides too.
Without complaining.
It was just… understood.
Once we were finished, we cleaned up and then went right into fixing the backdrops, despite Troy’s complaints about being too full to work. A swat to the ass got him moving, only I wasn’t expecting the retaliatory swat back, several minutes later – a move that set off a back and forth of silliness. At one point, he had me posing with the backdrops, wrapping myself in them like they were royal robes while he snapped away, and then was a good enough sport to pose for me too.
By the time we actually got the backdrops hung, the sun was starting to go down, but that was fine. I had no regrets about the way I’d spent my day, and from the disappointed look on Troy’s face when I announced it was probably time to call it a day, he wasn’t ready for it to be over either.
He confirmed what I thought by insisting on walking me home – a request I was not inclined to deny. Anika was working a late shift at the coffee house, and I wasn’t particularly interested in being alone, since I already knew where my thoughts would lead.
Back to that phone call.
So instead, we headed out, with Storm following. About halfway there though, she abandoned us for better company, and the closer we got to the bike shop, the deeper the feeling of dread in my chest built.
I did not want to go upstairs alone.
“Damn, I didn’t realize you were so close to the bakery.”
“Yeah,” I told him as we stopped in front of B.Spoked. “I haven’t figured out yet if it’s a good or bad thing.” I pulled open the main door and then looked back at Troy, waiting, as if his following me was a foregone conclusion. He went along with that part, but at the door to the apartment he hesitated, lingering in the entry
after I’d unlocked it and stepped in and taken off my shoes.
“What is it?” I asked, dropping my bag onto the table beside the couch after I’d pulled it over my head. “Scared I’m gonna bite?”
“Nah.” He pushed his hands into his pockets, and shrugged. “Just… wondering what’s on the agenda.”
“Exactly one item.” I answered. “Do not leave Jules alone with her thoughts after creepy ass call from the creepy motherfucker who married my mother.”
That made him step inside, closing the door behind him as his eyes went all intense, nostrils flared in anger. “You’re saying he—”
“No,” I interrupted, raising my hands before his imagination took things too far. “He never touched me. It was…” I shook my head. “It sounds stupid to say out loud. It sounds like nothing.”
“But it wasn’t nothing. If your aunt let you come live with her, took over custody… it wasn’t nothing. It’s not stupid.”
He was looking at me so hard that I couldn’t help raising my eyes to his. “She said it was though. Said I was ruining things for her, that I was overreacting. Cause it was just… he just made me uncomfortable,” I spilled out, saying way more than I intended, but finding it hard to stop. “And that’s all it was at first. I just didn’t like how he looked at me, especially once I… once my body started developing. But I didn’t say anything, cause I thought I was just being crazy. But then he was always looking at me. Touching himself while he stared at my breasts, making comments about my body. How I was “growing up so well”. Especially once I made the cheerleading squad at school. I would never wear my uniform around him, because he made me feel so… disgusting.”
“You told your mother… and she told you that you were ruining things for her?” Troy asked, and it hurt like hell to nod my head yes to a question like that.
“I just started spending nights at Anika’s. I wouldn’t even ask. I would just go, whenever I could, and Anika always took up for me, because I told her what was going on. I didn’t tell Will and Darcy though, so sometimes they would send me back. But then one day I was at home, in the shower, and… I looked up and there he was, in the bathroom, just… watching me. I asked him to leave, and he wouldn’t. And he took out all the towels. So… I screamed my head off until the neighbors called the police.”
“And they didn’t do shit.”
I shook my head. “They didn’t. But that was my fault. He lied, said it was an accident. That I must’ve forgotten to put away the laundry, and that he didn’t even know I was in there. And my… “mother”… she stood hand in hand while he told that lie, and let it ride. That was when I realized there was no point. He was more important than I was. So… I told the police I was wrong, so they would just go.”
“You were a kid, Jules. What, 15? 16? That’s not on you.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Darcy and Will believed me. The only reason Uncle Will didn’t kill him was because Doreen begged him. He kicked his ass though.”
“I feel like that’s not enough,” Troy said, moving to stand in front of me, but not touching me. “And you said he called you today? For what?” he asked, in a tone that made me shake my head.
“Okay, I’m done talking about this, cause now you…”
“Wanna kill this motherfucker? Yeah, I kinda do,” he agreed. “I saw too much shit in foster care for this to not be a sore spot for me. You were a little girl. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”
“You’re right, but I’m fine now,” I insisted. “Are the memories ugly? Yes. Does it still hurt to think about? I wish it didn’t, but it does. But I’m fine.”
For several seconds, Troy said nothing, just stared at me. But then his eyebrow went up as he asked, “… Are you though?”
And that… took my breath away.
“Wow…” I whispered. “Uh… I could use a drink, how about you? Remember to leave your shoes at the door please.”
I moved past him to the kitchen, where Anika kept a few bottles stocked. I went straight for the French Vanilla Ciroc and turned around, only to have it pulled from my hand by Troy, who was suddenly right in front of me.
“Jules…” he started, backing me into the counter, and cupping my face in his hand. “I’m sorry this shit happened to you. And I’m glad that you had somebody willing to listen, and protect you. I realize it can’t be easy to talk about, and you… probably still feel some trauma from it all. But mama… listen… if you think I’m about to drink this shit… I’m sorry to disappoint you, but hell nah,” he finished, laughing, offering some desperately-needed levity to a moment of darkness I didn’t want to have, at all.
I sucked my teeth as I took the bottle back from him, and he moved, letting me away from the counter. “Boy please, you don’t know what you’re missing, but I’m about to show you. Get me a can of coke from the fridge.”
“Come on,” he complained, but still moved to get it, while I grabbed glasses and poured a generous serving of the vodka into each glass.
“Top us off,” I told him, leaving him to distribute the soda while I returned the liquor to the cabinet. “And then taste it, so I can see you eat your words.”
He shook his head. “I’on know about all that.”
“Just drink,” I urged, picking up one of the glasses for myself, and tossing the empty soda can into the recycling bin under the sink. “Give it a chance.”
“I have a fundamental issue with “cutesy” flavored liquors.”
“Nobody asked you all that, barber man. Just try it.”
He sighed. “Fine.” While I watched, he put the glass to his lips for a sip, then made an exaggerated face like it was nasty. “It’s aiight,” he admitted, reluctantly, then took a longer sip while I raised my glass for my own first drink. We stayed like that for a few minutes, silently sipping until I finally spoke up again.
“Come see my room.”
I said that and then just started walking, giving him no room to argue about it. Instead of turning on the main light, I flipped my string lights on, filling the room with the warm glow of the tiny bulbs.
“Wow. I… could not imagine a room that was more you,” he chuckled, then took the last sip from his glass. I took it from him as I finished mine, then left both glasses on the desk.
“What does that mean?” I asked, getting right in front of him. I glanced down to see that he’d heeded my request of leaving his shoes at the door, and something about having him in my room, in his socks, made me grin as I looked up. “You some kinda expert on me or something?”
He smirked. “No expert, no. But I know enough.”
“Do you know why I wanted you in here?”
“To keep you from being alone with your thoughts.”
I grabbed the flesh of my bottom lip between my teeth, gnawing at it for a second before I nodded. “Yes. But… more than that, too.”
“I know.”
His answer brought my gaze to his, forcing me to stare him in the eyes.
“What’s the “but”?” I asked, when I finally looked away.
“What do you mean?”
“The but,” I repeated. “You know what I want… but…?”
“I didn’t say I knew what you wanted Jules, I was saying that I knew there was more.”
“Okay so I want you to kiss me,” I snapped, rolling my eyes at him pretending that was something he didn’t already know. He had to know. “So now tell me why you won’t. Still in rehab? Freaked out by my story? Just don’t like me like that? What, Troy? What is it?”
He shook his head. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“We have been around each other, time after time, alone. I’m not imagining the attraction, or the chemistry, or the fact that you like me. But you… you always hold back. You always stop yourself, and I don’t understand why!”
Troy scoffed. “I thought we had an agreement where that was concerned. Did we not?”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. You made me change my m
ind. I like you. I want you. Right now. And there’s no point in any of this, if that feeling isn’t reciprocated so—”
Whatever other reckless thing was about to spill from my lips got snatched away by the suddenness of Troy’s touch. One hand loosely fisted in my hair, the other at my waist as he pulled me into him, and locked onto me with a gaze that sent a shiver up my spine.
“Do not put words in my mouth,” he repeated, and then his mouth was on mine. There wasn’t room for me to think about – there was barely room to breathe. So I focused on much more important things, like pushing up on my toes to get closer, gripping fistfuls of his tee shirt to keep me there, and kissing him back like my life depended on it.
Still though, it wasn’t… frantic. Or at least, not for him like it was for me, and he wouldn’t let me take over – he held the lead, forcing me to slow down and savor it. The warm possessiveness of his hands at my waist and in my hair, the smoky vanilla of the drinks, and just… his energy. Strong. Steady. Safe.
He pulled back from the kiss to look at me, holding a smile in his eyes as he did. The hand that had been in my hair came forward, enough for his thumb to brush my bottom lip before he leaned in again, for another kiss.
Soft. Sweet.
And then another one.
And another.
And then we were on my bed – him sitting at the edge of the bed with me on his lap, straddling his legs. We were pressed so closely that I could feel his hardness growing against me, reminding me of the time before.
Reminding me that we were not supposed to be doing this again.
In this position, my face was higher than his, so when I pulled back from the kiss, I had to look down to meet his eyes. Eyes that said he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling my hands from his shoulders to bring them together, and then to his lips, where he kissed my fingers.
I closed my eyes, taking a second before I answered. “I’m being selfish. Your hoe rehab was important to you, and I’m… being a bad influence because I’m looking for a release. This feels right, but… it doesn’t feel right.”
Love Notes (Equilibrium Book 1) Page 14