FORTY-SEVEN
Patrick
Ipulled the truck into the apartment complex. I’d spent the last twenty-four hours fretting over every single word I’d ever said to Jules. Wondering where I’d gone wrong. Weighing each action and intention. How had I made her feel like it was Gracie I wanted?
When the torture was more than I could handle, I drove down to Nashville. Even put the fourth thing in the glove box in case I got the chance to show her. In case she allowed me to say all the things I’d practiced saying.
This wasn’t over yet. I wasn’t going to let her get away so easily.
Her car wasn’t in the lot. I circled her building twice to be sure. No Altima in sight. Julia’s circle was pretty small. Where would she have gone? Maybe she was at Jack’s or was hanging with Gina. I idled the truck within eyesight of her usual parking spot and waited for about fifteen minutes.
Impatience set in.
Think, think, think.
An uncomfortable thought popped into my brain. Maybe she was drinking. Jules’ sobriety had been going great, but you never know. A big upset like last night could derail the best of intentions. What was the name of the bar she used to visit? The name escaped me.
Never mind the name. I was sure I remembered where it was. I backed out and turned toward the downtown area of Nashville.
Ten minutes later, I saw it. The hole in the wall place didn’t even have a sign. No wonder I couldn’t remember the name. I parallel parked across the street and jogged in. It was crowded and reeked of smoke.
Good grief, why did she like this place?
I scanned the seats in the dimly lit room.Bingo.She was in a bar chair, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. In one swift motion, she tipped her head back for a shot.
The chair beside her was empty. I slid in. It took her a second to notice me. When she did, she immediately averted her eyes. Yelled over the roar of music, “What do you want?”
“You.”
She fiddled with her empty glass. Her words were slurring. “I shouldn’t have—told you where this place is.”
“Too late for that.”
She scoffed.
I flagged down a bartender and paid her tab. Hefty bill. She’d obviously been at it a while. I grabbed her arm and prodded her towards the door. “Come on. You’re going home.”
“Stop.”
“We need to talk.”
“I’ve—said everything I need to say.”
I turned her to face me. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, and swollen. Like she’d been crying a long time. I bit back the snappy response about to escape. Forced myself to answer gently, even though my jaw was clenched. “I haven’t, Julia Collins.” I dangled her purse off my finger. “Plus, I closed your tab, and I’m taking your money. You’re done buying drinks right now. Let’s go.”
She rolled her eyes, but she did follow me. To clarify, shetriedto follow me. Her feet were unsteady, and I had to lead her out.
My stomach knotted. She was miserable. As I led her loose body across the street, I knew I had very little to do with her current suffering. It was Cameron and something else.
Let me in, Jules. Please.
I opened the passenger door for her. Her foot slipped off the step rail and she tumbled against the frame. I grabbed her hips and hoisted her up and into the seat.
“I—I don’t want to go home.”
“Too bad.” I reached around to buckle her in. Cigarette smoke and the pungent stench of liquor muted her ever-present vanilla scent. She leaned her head back on the seat, eyes glazed-over.
The people in the Denver triplex flashed across my mind’s eye. Gracie’s face came next. I remembered the glazed-over look in her eyes right before she spilled her guts to me about all the horrors of her childhood. I saw that same look in Julia’s eyes right now.
