Page 35

35

JACK

DéJà VU

J ust knock on the fucking door.

Knock, pretend everything’s okay, go to dinner. Beg her to love you.

Once you’re together again and having a nice time, she might forget she’s lost interest.

Yeah. I’ll just keep telling myself that.

Knock on the door. Knock on the fucking door!

I’m standing in front of her house, I’m wearing my best suit, I made reservations at the nicest restaurant in town, and I brought florist flowers. Not from the gas station. Not from my sister’s garden.

I’m doing everything I can think that’ll help.

I just want her to look at me again. I just want to see her smile.

The door swings open before I chalk up the nerves to knock, and Alex steps out in full uniform. Even his gun.

He closes the door behind him and folds his arms. “Reilly.”

“Alex.” I clear my throat awkwardly. “I’m here to take Bambie to dinner.”

“Who was the bimbo on your arm on the TV?”

“She was no one. Does Bambie think she’s someone? Is that why she hung up on me?”

“Her name’s Brittany, and I dunno. I don’t know what’s in my sister’s head, I just know she’s sad, and it’s because of you.”

“Alex, I don’t wanna make her sad. I want to make her happy. ”

“Well, looks to me like you’re doing a shit job.”

“Alex–”

The door swings open at his back, and ducking around his broad chest, Britt’s beautiful blue eyes meet mine. She’s elegant, she’s the schoolmarm… she’s cold . Red A-line dress that goes to her knees, and heels that, while sexy, are entirely too proper for the skater chick I know.

Why are we going to a restaurant? Why aren’t we going to the lookout?

I want her in jeans and a million bracelets. I want her to wear her nose ring and smudged makeup. I’ll take any Bambie she gives, but I want club Bambie.

It’s the real her.

The version of her she chooses to be.

Moving around Alex, I stop in front of her and cup her chin. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Bambie.” Leaning forward – fuck Alex! – I press a gentle kiss to her lips.

Sighing, smiling, she bites her bottom lip when I pull back. “Hey, Jack.”

“Here.” I pass the bouquet. “I got you these.”

“Roses.” When she sees the blood red bouquet – which match her dress – her soft smile turns to cold disinterest. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

“You look beautiful.”

Alex clears his throat. “Britt, you wanna come inside for a sec to put those in water?”

I don’t miss the extra meaning in his words, but Britt simply shrugs. “Nah. Can you do it?” She shoves the bouquet into his arms, then loops her arm through mine. “We can go.”

We step off the porch together without looking back. I actually feel bad for Alex, I know he’s only looking out for her, but at this moment, with her on my arm, smelling so good and looking so pretty, I dismiss Alex as fast as Britt dismissed my flowers.

“You really should get my name buffed out of your car.” Grinning as we approach the Mustang, she looks up at me. “I’ll pay for it or whatever.”

“Nah.” Stopping at the passenger side, I press a kiss to the corner of her red lips, then help lower her into the seat. “I like it there. Keeps me humble.”

She snickers and closes her door .

My heart gallops, because that wasn’t a fake giggle! That was her, finally . I’ve missed that sound.

Running to the driver’s side, I slide in and start the engine before I swing into the street. Looking back, I ignore her big, bad brother standing on the front porch with his hand on his hip and murder in his eyes.

“Did you have a good day at school?”

Smiling, Britt fixes the hem of her dress to cover her knees. “Yeah. Same, same. Evie almost got detention today; she was being sassy.”

“Yeah?” I grin. “Sassy to who? Another kid?”

“Nah, to me.”

“Really?” That’s not her. I mean, she’s sassy, but she’s respectful. “What happened?”

Britt simply shrugs. “Dunno. Guess she was having a bad day.”

“I can talk to her–”

“Oh, no,” she cuts me off. “This is my job. Kids are sassy all the time. They’re pre-teens, they’re hormonal, they have bad days. It’s normal.”

Taking her hand, I bring it to my thigh. I want to touch her. I need to feel her. It’s been too fucking long.

“Alright, well, let me know if she gets to be too much. I know she can be… pigheaded. She was born to push boundaries. Just let me know and I’ll fix it.”

“It’s fine. You look good, Jack. Ready for next week?”

“Ready as I’m gonna be.”

“When do you weigh in?” Her beautiful eyes narrow. “Can you even eat tonight? What about your pure protein diet or whatever?”

“I weigh in a week from today. And yeah, I’ll be eating. Nothing’s stopping me from taking you out tonight.”

I release her hand so I can downshift and pull into the parking lot, and as soon as the engine is silent, I rush around to her door and help her out. Walking toward the entrance with her arm in mine, I study her long legs eating up the pavement.

“You look so beautiful tonight, Britt.”

She squeezes my arm. “Thanks. There’s no media here… I guess I expected this place to be swamped.”

“I made the reservation under a fake name. They’ll probably come later, but we’ll at least get in and get started before they do.”

“Don’t you get sick of them invading your privacy like that?”

“All the fucking time,” I laugh. Stopping at the hostess desk, with as little as two words spoken, we’re led through the restaurant, past candlelit tables, and all the way to the back to a dark booth in the corner .

I could walk to the other side of the booth. I could sit opposite, so I can look at her, but I don’t. I slide in as soon as she’s in, and I almost sit on her in an attempt to be close.

As soon as the hostess leaves, a waitress takes her place. “Can I get you guys a drink?”

“I’ll just take a water, thanks.” I turn to Britt. “You want soda or something, Bambie?”

“I’ll take a beer, please.”

Like she just punched me in the fucking heart with a literal jackhammer, the breath whooshes from my lungs, and my eyes itch – from craving, from heartbreak, from the pain of her strike.

Avoiding my gaze, she watches the waitress take our order and walk away. As soon as the woman is gone, Britt’s eyes go to the flower arrangement in the middle of the table and her hand goes to fuss with her bracelet.

At least she’s still wearing it.

“Do we need to talk about us?”

She looks everywhere but at me. “Hmm?”

“We’re different… Something changed last week. I was away, I missed you so fucking much, and you told me you missed me, too. But since I got back, you’ve barely made more than five minutes for us.”

“It’s not like that, Jack.” She fusses with her bracelet. Worrying it, spinning it. “We’re good, I’ve just been busy.”

“You were busy before I left, too, but you still made time for me.”

“I’m sorry.” She shrugs. “This is just my life; busy seasons cycle around. You should get it.” She peeks up into my eyes. “You’re busy, too. I’m surprised you’re even here right now.”

“Because I’m making time! Because I wanna see you.”

“Yeah, and I’m here, too.”

I narrow my eyes. Is she trying to hurt me, or is she truly clueless?

The waitress delivers our drinks and takes our food order, then as soon as she leaves, Britt picks up the beer and sips.

I’ve never been so repulsed by alcohol as I am in this booth with my callous girlfriend.

She notices my gaze and lowers the bottle. “You don’t mind, right?” Her eyes actually turn softer. She’s in there, she’s just gagging the real Bambie. “I can put it away.”

“Nope.” I pick up my water glass. “Drink whatever the fuck you want, Brittany.”

Shrugging, she begins picking at the label .

I want to take the fucking bottle and smash it against the table. Make her lick it up if she wants it so badly.

Sitting in silence for several long beats, finally, she pushes the beer an inch or two away and glances up into my eyes. “Did you fix your tell, yet?”

“My tell?”

“Your left arm.”

My eyes narrow. “Yeah, I guess.”

“The other team doesn’t know about that, do they?”

“No. My training sessions are closed, just family. You could probably sell that secret for a lot of money, Bambie. I’m surprised you haven’t been approached by their camp yet.”

“Oh, I have,” she admits easily. “We’ve had some calls at the house. People want to talk about you, but Alex is dealing with them.”

I slam my glass down with a heavy hand. “People are bothering you at home? Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve done something about it.”

“I just told you, Alex is dealing with it.”

“But this isn’t Alex’s problem!”

“Well, actually.” She rolls her eyes. “Seeing as he’s the law around here, isn’t he exactly who you’d call to do something about it? I just cut out the middle man.”

“You just cut me out.”

Her hard eyes turn soft. “It’s not like that, Jack. I was trying to save you trouble.”

“Don’t do me any favors, Bambie. Just call me when shit like this happens. It’s my fight, my problem, and you’re my girl.”

“Mmhm.” She taps my arm. “Can you scoot? I have to pee.”

Sighing, I close my eyes. This is painful. This whole fucking night is painful.

Sliding out of the booth, I take her hands and help her up. I smile at the black nail polish. She’s all elegant and classy, but she didn’t remove her nail polish.

She’s in there. I just need to find out why the fuck she’s gagging the woman I love.

I’m not letting this go.

She skirts the edge of the dining room, then slips into the hallway that leads to the bathroom. Turning back to my now empty table – there’s an omen in that, I’m sure – I sit down and play with my glass of water.

My hands are on the water glass, but my eyes are on the ice-cold beer. Condensation slides along the dark glass and creates a ring on the table .

It’s so close. Open. Full, besides the single sip Bambie took.

One sip, it’ll be okay. One sip won’t turn you back into that other guy.

One sip never got anyone drunk before.

I’m so fucking over my head with Brittany. From hot and devoted, to colder than her beer. It’s like she woke up one day and decided she was done giving a shit about me.

I was away from home. Clear on the other side of the country. I missed her more than I ever missed a beer. I was picking out engagement rings with my sister like a complete fool.

And she was back here not giving a shit.

I’m stronger than I was last year. I can handle a lot of shit in my life, I have handled a lot of shit in my life, but give me a damn clue! Tell me what the fuck is up, communicate , give me a reason why I’m suddenly worth less than dog shit on the bottom of her shoe.

But I get nothing. I just get a constant stream of ‘we’re good’ but no actual follow through.

We aren’t good! We’re broken, and I desperately want to fix it.

I love this girl. I love her so much it hurts to breathe, and she’s more casual now than she was when we fucked the first time.

“Can I get you or your date another drink?”

Snapping me out of my reverie and dragging me back to reality – sitting in a candlelit, flower decorated booth, alone – I glance up to the waitress, then down to my watch.

“Sir?”

“No.” My eyes snap back to hers. “No. I’m fine, thank you. Maybe come back in ten minutes when my girlfriend gets back.”

Glancing back to my watch, I frown. I don’t know how long ago she left, but it feels like she’s been gone for ages.

I try and talk myself down, just sit down and shut the fuck up. Don’t go looking for her, you’ll just look more pathetic, but dropping my napkin on the table, I climb out of the booth before my brain has time to catch up.

Retracing her steps along the edge of the restaurant, I nervously pat my jacket closed and clear my throat.

Why the fuck am I nervous?

Turning the corner and stopping at the end of the hallway, I find Britt with her back against the wall and Brad – her fucking ex – up in her face, whispering shit with a smirk I’d personally like to erase.

Permanently.

“Are you two quite comfortable, then? ”

Britt’s eyes snap to mine. The blood drains from her face, and in an instant, dread rolls through my belly.

I suddenly realize; I’ve been here, done this before. Only this time, I’m Brad the Bore.

Stepping back from her, Brad grins like he’s ready to go toe-to-toe in the octagon. He looks me up and down like he’s an eight-foot motherfucker without a worry in the world.

“Joe.”

I narrow my eyes as the adrenaline zings through my veins. My hands open and close reflexively. Talk about a tell; I know for damn sure Britt watches them. She knows I’m about to use them.

“Jack, it’s not–”

“Did you guys plan this?”

“No!”

“Just a happy coincidence, then?”

“Jack, it’s not like that–”

“You’ve been extra busy, huh? All those extra staff meetings must be tiring. It’s handy you had each other to lean on.”

“Stop.”

“No, I don’t think I will! Those meetings seemed to increase while I was away.” My angry eyes turn to Brad. “You warm my side of the bed while I was gone, asshole?”

“Jack, you need to stop–”

Something akin to an explosion in my brain goes pop! when Brad throws his arm around Britt’s shoulders.

“I’ll drive you home, babe. I told you all along he was unstable,” his eyes lift to mine, “riffraff.”

Big fucking mistake!

Storming forward before my brain catches up to my actions, I tear his arm off of her and barely notice her cries of pain when her hair catches between us. Taking him by the lapels of his fancy coat and using every ounce of strength I have, I toss him through the opposite wall.

“Jack!”

I swing back to her with feral anger coursing through my blood. “He told you all along?” My snapped words freeze her as she steps toward his crumpled body. “You’ve been talking about me while fucking him?”

“No!”

“A man goes outta town for a week, and he can’t trust his girl to not fuck around on him?”

“I didn’t– ”

The engagement ring in my pocket burns and makes me want to cry.

I’m a fucking fool.

Steph never would’ve made me feel like this. She never made me doubt her loyalty for even a second.

“I’ve tried, Bambie. I’ve tried to get your attention, your love, your loyalty. I shouldn’t have expected too much; you did fuck me before you even knew my name. I just figured you being my girl exclusively would buy me a little…” I laugh humorlessly. “Well, exclusivity.”

She steps up to me, as brave as any man. Slamming both hands on my chest, she pushes me back a step. “I’m not your girl! I’m not your anything except a one-night-stand and second choice!”

“You’re right.” I acknowledge quietly. “You’re not my girl. You’re not my anything…” I swallow past my heartbreak and self-loathing. “You’re just a whore. Get your boyfriend to drive you home.”

“Jack–”

“Go fuck yourself, Brittany.”