Ohhhh, my goodness, that’s it. Just like Dad. How could I let this happen?
I want out.
“Hey,” he says, and I turn my head to face him. He leans in as if a kiss should solve all our problems, but I don’t want this. I don’t wanthim.
I want to feel safe.
I want to be understood.
I want to feel the way I feel when I’m with Jude.
But mostly, I want the strength to walk away.
Before I can move, he tries to kiss me, pressing hard, making my insides churn. His hand slips under my shirt, gently rubbing my back at first, but it quickly becomes a cheap move rather thana sweet caress when his hand slides into the gap of the waistband of my loose shorts.
He tries for a feel like some high school kid, or maybe exactly like a twenty-five-year-old who already has one girl knocked up.
Finally, something snaps, and my brain reconnects to my body.
I’m done.
“Stop it! Stop!” I push him away, my stomach threatening to revolt. “I don’t want this. I’m leaving.”
“Of course you are. You want me to make you feel better, but you won’t let me touch you. Normal people hug, kiss, and have sex, Lucy! You better figure out what your problem is because you’re not normal,” he says as I walk to the door. “It’s probably because of your weird family. You need therapy!”
Thankfully, he doesn’t even stand as he yells.
“Maybe. But I’m done.” I don’t think he understands the finality of what I am telling him, but I can’t have another pointless argument.
I’m about to be sick.
I race out the door and drop to my knees, vomiting in the grass near my car, purging the last of whatever hold he had over me.
The bottle of water Jace gave me yesterday is still in my cupholder. It’s warm but good enough to swish my mouth. I’ll stop to brush my teeth later.
Without another thought, I begin the three-hour drive to Cookeville. Jackson texts me something, but I can’t look now.
Music on. Brain off.
Chapter 19
I Won’t Tell ’em Your Name
I’ve lived all over the Southeast, but my family moved to West Virginia from Lexington, Kentucky, my senior year of high school. It was a nightmare. My dad couldn’t keep the restaurant staffed, so at seventeen, I worked months straight without a day off. I was lonely, angry, and homesick.
After graduation, we moved to Cookeville, Tennessee. We’d lived near Nashville before, but Cookeville was new. I missed Kentucky and wanted to go home. I had a solid group of friends for the five years we lived in Lexington. They introduced me to the best music, and we spent countless Saturday nights at local gigs helping bands tear down and load gear so we could meet people.
I was disconnected, aimless, and numb in Cookeville. Alex eventually convinced me to move back to Lexington. It was great at first, like getting the band back together. Alex helped me find a job, and Joey helped me get a studio apartment. But then I needed a second job because I couldn’t survive on one.
I hardly saw Alex. She was busy, and her parents were going through a divorce, and I didn’t have time to do anything but work. Joey got married, and his band was on hiatus. Our little circle of musicians became accountants and teachers and moderately responsible adults. Even the old radio station was gone.
Lexington didn’t feel like home anymore, but I lived on my own terms. I could read historical romance all night and live on Pringles and Diet Mountain Dew if I wanted. No more double shifts for my dad or unpaid nanny duties. That first year was tough but so worth it.
Thatsecondyear though … It was one long country song of despair. My rent went up, and I couldn’t get promoted to save my life.
I totaled my car and had to pay for rideshares for a month until Alex’s dad helped me buy another with the insurance money.
Then, my second job at a convenience store got dangerous. The assistant manager was selling alcohol to minors, but the owner wouldn’t fire him unless I agreed to take over, and that was a hard pass. If I got someone fired, they’d surely come after me.I specialize in verbal warfare, which oddly enough doesn’t come in all that handy in a crisis.
