Unbroken
Page 8
I let out a slow breath of relief. I didn’t realize until now how tight I was wound, wondering if I’d see Emerson again. Or not even him, but someone who knew him, well enough to come say ‘hi’, and ask after me and my family.
“What can I get you?” The bartender asks, strolling over to me. I’ve not seen him before—he’s young and blonde, wearing a plaid shirt and a laid-back smile.
“Jack and coke,” I reply. “And a burger, thanks.”
“Coming right up.” He grabs the liquor bottle from the row on the shelf behind him, and gives me a long pour. “You just get in to town?”
I pause. “How did you tell?” I frown.
He gives me a lazy grin. “I know everyone in town.”
His eyes flick over me, and I remember that I haven’t changed since breakfast with Daniel this morning, what feels like weeks ago. My preppy silk dress and sandals may be normal for the city, but here in Cedar Cove, the uniform is cutoff jeans and flip flops. “You got me,” I tell him, uncomfortable.
“I’ll go see about that burger,” he winks at me, and strolls away.
I shift awkwardly on my stool, registering how out of place I must look. Further down the bar, a couple of guys in baseball caps and workman’s tans are checking me out with long looks. I try to ignore them. I grasp my drink and take a long sip. It’s strong, and the alcohol burns in the back of my throat, but I keep drinking. I need it tonight, with all these old ghosts dancing around the edge of my mind, trying to trip me up.
I turn my mind to safer things, like trying to remember the last time I was in a bar alone, without friends, or Daniel. The answer is never. Even back in college, I was never really the bar-hopping type. Lacey dragged me off to parties, and the pub crawls in the city, but after Emerson, my heart was too raw to make a real go of it and flirt with the frat boys lining up on a Friday night. I didn’t even want the random makeouts Lacey would always use to rebound after her heart got dented by a guy. My pain was too deep for that. Nothing was ever going to make it better.
At least, that’s what I thought. Then I wound up meeting Daniel in my Ethics class, spring semester of my sophomore year. He’s three years older than me, but was taking the class to make up a basic requirement for law school. The first few weeks, he just smiled at me. Cute brown hair, brown eyes, preppy Oxford shirts and pants. There was something genuine in his expression, like he had a joke to share with me—just me—so soon, I found myself smiling back. Then he moved to sit beside me, just appearing in the next seat one day, offering me a spare pen and a copy of his notes. We paired up for assignments and started studying together, and by the time the end of the semester came, he finally asked me out on a date.
A real date. It was funny—there I was, surrounded by casual hook-ups and one-night stands, and Daniel took the time to do it right. While Lacey was hanging off two AM booty texts from random guys, I was getting to know him the old-fashioned way. Dinner and a movie. Weekend brunch, then strolling the bookstores and cute boutiques in the arts district. Somehow, Daniel could tell I needed the time. After everything I’d been through, I wasn’t about to just throw myself into something all over again, risk my newly-healed heart on another guy when I knew just how much it could hurt me to love someone the way I’d loved before.
Because I couldn’t love another man like that, even if I tried. That part of me—the part that loved so recklessly, desperately, it was dead and gone. But as the months passed with Daniel, and my fears slowly melted away, I came to realize: maybe love doesn’t have to destroy you. Maybe it’s not all unbearable passion, and kisses that make you want to die. Maybe love can be that gentle breeze my mom told me about: strong, and sure, and true.
“Time for another round.”
I look up. One of the guys from down the bar has sidled over. “I’m Kenny,” he says, standing over me, too close, so I can smell the faint scent of sweat and beer and tobacco on his breath.
I try not to recoil.
“No thanks.” I answer firmly.
“Aww, c’mon,” he grins at me, tanned and solid-looking, but with a cocky arrogance about his stare. “What’ll it be? You want one of those girly cocktails, or are you up for the hard stuff?”
Kenny leers at me, gaze slipping suggestively over my chest, and even though my neckline is sensible—hell, practically demure—I feel na**d under his stare, in all the worst ways.
My chest tightens. I feel sick.
“I said, no thanks.” I murmur, trying to keep my voice low. I don’t want a scene, but this guy seems determined to talk to me. “Really, I’m good. You can get back to your friend.”
Kenny’s smile slips. “What, you won’t drink with townies?”
“I didn’t say that.” I answer quickly. I look around, but nobody’s paying us any attention, and the bartender is still out in the back.
“Sure, but it’s the truth.” Kenny sneers at me. “You think you’re too good for us, is that it?”
“No.” My voice is louder now. I catch the eye of an older woman at the next table, but she just drops her eyes and glances away.
“So have a drink.” His eyes narrow meanly, “Maybe it’ll loosen you up.”
I gulp. I know exactly what kind of loose he wants, and that’s never going to happen.
Even though I’m still hungry and I have food coming, I can’t stay. I scramble down from my stool and quickly pull a twenty from my purse, leaving it on the bar. “I have to go,” I tell him quickly, taking two steps towards the door.
“What can I get you?” The bartender asks, strolling over to me. I’ve not seen him before—he’s young and blonde, wearing a plaid shirt and a laid-back smile.
“Jack and coke,” I reply. “And a burger, thanks.”
“Coming right up.” He grabs the liquor bottle from the row on the shelf behind him, and gives me a long pour. “You just get in to town?”
I pause. “How did you tell?” I frown.
He gives me a lazy grin. “I know everyone in town.”
His eyes flick over me, and I remember that I haven’t changed since breakfast with Daniel this morning, what feels like weeks ago. My preppy silk dress and sandals may be normal for the city, but here in Cedar Cove, the uniform is cutoff jeans and flip flops. “You got me,” I tell him, uncomfortable.
“I’ll go see about that burger,” he winks at me, and strolls away.
I shift awkwardly on my stool, registering how out of place I must look. Further down the bar, a couple of guys in baseball caps and workman’s tans are checking me out with long looks. I try to ignore them. I grasp my drink and take a long sip. It’s strong, and the alcohol burns in the back of my throat, but I keep drinking. I need it tonight, with all these old ghosts dancing around the edge of my mind, trying to trip me up.
I turn my mind to safer things, like trying to remember the last time I was in a bar alone, without friends, or Daniel. The answer is never. Even back in college, I was never really the bar-hopping type. Lacey dragged me off to parties, and the pub crawls in the city, but after Emerson, my heart was too raw to make a real go of it and flirt with the frat boys lining up on a Friday night. I didn’t even want the random makeouts Lacey would always use to rebound after her heart got dented by a guy. My pain was too deep for that. Nothing was ever going to make it better.
At least, that’s what I thought. Then I wound up meeting Daniel in my Ethics class, spring semester of my sophomore year. He’s three years older than me, but was taking the class to make up a basic requirement for law school. The first few weeks, he just smiled at me. Cute brown hair, brown eyes, preppy Oxford shirts and pants. There was something genuine in his expression, like he had a joke to share with me—just me—so soon, I found myself smiling back. Then he moved to sit beside me, just appearing in the next seat one day, offering me a spare pen and a copy of his notes. We paired up for assignments and started studying together, and by the time the end of the semester came, he finally asked me out on a date.
A real date. It was funny—there I was, surrounded by casual hook-ups and one-night stands, and Daniel took the time to do it right. While Lacey was hanging off two AM booty texts from random guys, I was getting to know him the old-fashioned way. Dinner and a movie. Weekend brunch, then strolling the bookstores and cute boutiques in the arts district. Somehow, Daniel could tell I needed the time. After everything I’d been through, I wasn’t about to just throw myself into something all over again, risk my newly-healed heart on another guy when I knew just how much it could hurt me to love someone the way I’d loved before.
Because I couldn’t love another man like that, even if I tried. That part of me—the part that loved so recklessly, desperately, it was dead and gone. But as the months passed with Daniel, and my fears slowly melted away, I came to realize: maybe love doesn’t have to destroy you. Maybe it’s not all unbearable passion, and kisses that make you want to die. Maybe love can be that gentle breeze my mom told me about: strong, and sure, and true.
“Time for another round.”
I look up. One of the guys from down the bar has sidled over. “I’m Kenny,” he says, standing over me, too close, so I can smell the faint scent of sweat and beer and tobacco on his breath.
I try not to recoil.
“No thanks.” I answer firmly.
“Aww, c’mon,” he grins at me, tanned and solid-looking, but with a cocky arrogance about his stare. “What’ll it be? You want one of those girly cocktails, or are you up for the hard stuff?”
Kenny leers at me, gaze slipping suggestively over my chest, and even though my neckline is sensible—hell, practically demure—I feel na**d under his stare, in all the worst ways.
My chest tightens. I feel sick.
“I said, no thanks.” I murmur, trying to keep my voice low. I don’t want a scene, but this guy seems determined to talk to me. “Really, I’m good. You can get back to your friend.”
Kenny’s smile slips. “What, you won’t drink with townies?”
“I didn’t say that.” I answer quickly. I look around, but nobody’s paying us any attention, and the bartender is still out in the back.
“Sure, but it’s the truth.” Kenny sneers at me. “You think you’re too good for us, is that it?”
“No.” My voice is louder now. I catch the eye of an older woman at the next table, but she just drops her eyes and glances away.
“So have a drink.” His eyes narrow meanly, “Maybe it’ll loosen you up.”
I gulp. I know exactly what kind of loose he wants, and that’s never going to happen.
Even though I’m still hungry and I have food coming, I can’t stay. I scramble down from my stool and quickly pull a twenty from my purse, leaving it on the bar. “I have to go,” I tell him quickly, taking two steps towards the door.
