“You’re brave,” he tells me.
A smile works its way across his lips, his eyes catching mine every now and again as he fills a pint glass from the tap. I return his smile, pulling off my gloves to rest them in the space next to me on the bar and offering a nod of thanks as he slides the glass across the surface.
Always looking for something.
Anxious and avoidant.
My forearm drops onto the bar as I pull the glass to my lips, letting my gaze trail through the small space before I return it to the man working the bar. I offer him the occasional glance, a soft smirk in a test of the waters.
The silent invitation is met with a wink and frequent looks in my direction while he works. I let myself feel the warmth that hits my stomach as I smile into my lager, carefully sipping on it.
A body drops onto the stool next to mine, a man maybe a few years older than I am, if I had to guess. His hat, like the bartender’s, is older and worn, with ‘keep on trucking’ printed on a patch stuck to the front of it. I can’t put a finger on exactly what it is, but something about him puts a familiar knot in the pit of my stomach.
“How’s about another round for my friend, here?” He says to the man behind the bar, using his head to gesture in my direction. When his eyes land on me, I keep my head forward, using only my eyes to look at my surroundings. “You can come on and play a round of darts with us.”
A quick glance to my right offers a view of his friends; two other men, at least one of them already drunk enough that he should be cut off. They’re talking loudly enough amongst themselves that a slur makes its way across the bar as one of them looks in my direction.
“Nah,” I say with a shake of my head. I meet the bartender in a warning gaze as I lift my beer. “I gotta finish up here and get home to the missus.”
Pulling my wallet from my pocket with a clammy hand, I take out a few bills to set them on top of the bar. A lifted brow asks a question that my mouth can’t, and the man in front of me offers a subtle drop of his chin as he swipes the bills into his hand.
He’s not alone here.
“One game,” hat man insists from his perch next to me, but I shake my head.
Shaking hands slide into my gloves, making a great effort to keep my left hand from his view before I hightail it out of the bar and into the parking lot. With frequent glances over my shoulder, I climb onto my bike, blowing out a breath more shaky than the rest of me.
Today of all fucking days.
Coming to a stop in the nearest parking lot, I slide off of my bike and rest my helmet on the seat as I pull down the zipper of my jacket. I drop into a squatting position next to my bike, bracing my forearms against my knees as I pull in a long breath.
My thumb hovers over Tripp’s name on my phone, like that’s where it’s supposed to be. Like he’s the person who always comes to my rescue, and in a lot of ways, he has been.
Ten years ago, he peeled me off of the sidewalk bloodied, beaten, and unable to walk on my own, because I’d believed a guy just like the one in that worn-down hat. Up until that night, I hadn’t known if I’d ever tell him who I really was.
When I told him that I’d been out with another man, and he figured out that it was why I was left in the shape I was in, the only thing I heard after he dropped me off with Julia was the sound of him cursing, his engine revving, and a silence that filled every one of my veins with lead.
I still don’t know what he did that night, and I’m not sure that he’d ever tell me.
My keys hit the kitchen counter as I walk into the house, met with a wiggly, yelping Koda. The adrenaline pumping through my veins to get me home is gone, and exhaustion now racks every inch of my body. I lower myself to the floor with my back pressed against the side of the refrigerator as he clambers over top of me, desperately licking at my face.
“Long ride?” One of my roommates – the one that I’m pretty sure has an ex-wife – asks with a chuckle as he steps into the kitchen. “Your dog didn’t leave the damn door while you were gone.”
“One day I’ll actually get the bike set up for you to ride, too,” I coo to Koda, scratching him behind the ear as my roommate shoots a doubtful look in my direction.
As I gather the bearings he doesn’t know that I’ve lost, I push myself up from the floor and head into the bathroom, stripping before I step into the shower. My head hangs against the wall, the warm water against my skin twisting itself into the sensation of phantom blood spilling from my scalp as the image of Tripp’s face burns itself behind my eyelids.
‘Tell me where you are.’
My stomach churns.
With a blink, the concerned face of the man hoisting me off of the ground is replaced with hatred and betrayal, standing in the quiet of the shop.
‘Tell me you’re not having sex with Julia.’
My forehead meets the tile with a hardthunk.
Outside of my sister, Tripp and Julia are the most important people that I have left in my life. I have other friends, and I cherish those relationships, but those three are my family.
