Chapter 8 – Jael #2
Everything in me wants to shout NO! To head back to the hotel where I’m staying while I’m in town, slip under the sheets, pull my sleep mask on, and let my sound machine drown out the world with that oddly comforting “inside a dishwasher” noise.
But with no work until tomorrow night, I figure spending a little more time with Owen might not be the worst idea—especially somewhere quieter, where we’re not battling the chaos of Friday night football just to hear each other.
Maybe we can have an actual conversation and catch up.
Perhaps we can find a way to be friends.
“Sure,” I say with a small nod, forcing a smile that I hope looks convincing.
A few minutes later, I’m trailing behind him in my car, headlights catching the back of his truck as he leads me out of town.
I half-expected him to take me to some bar or a diner, someplace loud and easy, but instead we’re headed toward where he lives now.
The idea of showing up at his place, just the two of us, twists in my stomach, but I shove it down.
It’s been ten years. Things are different.
We’re just two people catching up. Nothing more.
“I had fun tonight,” he says, hopping out of his truck without bothering to open my door once we hit his driveway.
“Me too,” I lie, following him up a small, stone path that leads to his front door. Though I’m not even sure why I said that. We’ve hardly exchanged two words the entire evening since Owen spent the whole time cheering along with the crowd. Who knew he still had so much school spirit?
Owen pushes the front door open, flicks on a small floor lamp, and steps aside to let me walk in ahead of him. The space is cozy, small, and dimly lit, but before I have time to take in any more of the details, his hands are on my hips, forcing me flush against him.
My mind hardly has time to process what’s happening but the next thing I know, I’m pressed up against the living room wall, and his lips are crashing into mine with a force that’s overwhelming.
The kiss is aggressive, demanding, almost identical to the last time that we kissed years ago which reminds me just how much I never enjoyed it.
That same forcefulness left a bad taste in my mouth then, and now it brings an uncomfortable flood of memories that I’ve suppressed rushing back like a tsunami.
I feel a familiar sense of nausea rising, bile creeping up my throat.
The hot dogs I foolishly ate at the game churn uneasily in my stomach, threatening to make an appearance at the taste of Owen on my tongue.
A horrifying visual flashes through my mind—if I throw up in his mouth, there’s no recovering from it.
I might as well pack my things tonight and drive straight back to Richmond, forget helping my mom with my dad’s will, forget everything.
It’s like an out-of-body experience, reliving a piece of my past I thought I’d buried deep enough to forget and I’m frozen, pinned to the wall. But when Owen’s hands move between my legs like he has a right to touch me there, it slams me back into the present with horrid clarity.
“Stop,” I say firmly, pushing at his chest and attempting to get him as far away as possible.
My voice is steady and more confident now, but he’s not budging.
“I said stop!” I repeat, shoving harder this time until finally he stops, his one hand still digging into my hips.
His eyes narrow as he stares at me, frustration flashing across his face.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Jael?” he snaps, his tone dripping with disbelief as he finally lets me go.
“No, I’m not kidding,” I reply sharply, crossing my arms over my chest and tugging my dress down to smooth it back into place.
Embarrassment washes over me, hot and heavy, at how quickly things just spiraled out of control. I didn’t want this. What was I thinking going on this date in the first place? Of course, Owen hasn’t changed but I have.
Owen keeps staring at me like I’ve just insulted him, but I’m already regretting every decision that’s led me to this moment and back to this town.
This was a mistake—coming here, agreeing to “hang out,” pretending for even a second that we could leave the past where it belonged and be friends.
Rhett was right. I don’t know what I’m doing.
He rolls his eyes. “You know what, Della was right. You always were a bitch.”
My hand connects with his face before I can even think it through, the sound of the slap echoing in the small room. Ten years’ worth of anger and betrayal fueled behind it.
“Don’t call me that!” I shout, grabbing my purse that fell to the ground when he’d pushed me against the door and fumbling for my keys. “And why the hell are you and Della still talking about me? Why is anyone in this town still even thinking about me? I left for a reason!”
Owen walks to the fridge, grabs a can of beer and cracks it open as he points at a picture frame on a bookshelf, barely visible in the dim light.
As my eyes adjust, I step closer to what he’s gesturing at, dreading what I know I’m about to see.
The photograph shows a younger Owen and Della kissing, and they’re dressed in a fucking tuxedo and wedding gown.
“Oh… oh, no,” I gasp, my hands flying to cover my mouth and then wipe at them aggressively as if I can wipe his kisses from my lips and his touch from my body.
“Don’t worry,” he says, “we’ve been separated for over six months now. Just have to make it to twelve before the divorce can be finalized.”
Any hesitation that I’d felt before about being with Owen has since flown out the fucking door and down the street.
I knew this had been a mistake but therein lies the danger of getting too far away from your past. You begin to selectively recall only the good moments, conveniently forgetting all the bad ones that lead up to things ending in the first place.
It’s easy to romanticize situations that were never romantic to begin with, convincing yourself that you have more chemistry and positive history with someone than you did.
“This was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking, assuming you’d grown up and changed.
But clearly, I’ve remembered our past relationship through rose-colored glasses.
Thankfully, it’s all come back to me now.
You never treated me right, and you’ve always been an asshole,” I declare, opening his front door and slamming it shut behind me as I storm back to my car.
Unfortunately for me, Owen decides I’m not allowed to get the final word this time. He opens the front door again, yelling through the screen after me, “Half the town saw us at the game tonight. Don’t think you’re getting off in the clear just because I didn’t unload a sack in you!”
Fucking pig.
Fuming, I jam the key into the ignition, throw the car into reverse, and peel out of Owen’s driveway with more speed than is probably safe. My hotel isn’t far, but right now, it feels like I can’t get there fast enough, and I half consider just driving straight back to Virginia.
“Fuck!” I yell, punching my fists against the steering wheel.
My voice echoes in the confined space of the car, but it does little to soothe the frustration that’s bubbling in my chest. My cheeks burn, humiliation settling deep as memories from a decade ago crash over me like an unforgiving tide.
It’s like my brain is on autopilot, replaying every bad moment in vivid detail.
Especially the ones that I’ve spent years trying to bury.
Not the good times or the ones that used to make me feel light and happy. No, of course not. My mind is focused on the cracks, the betrayals, the suffocating weight that pushed me to leave town in the first place and never come back.
Hot tears prick my eyes, and I swipe at them angrily, as if wiping them away could erase the emotions clawing their way to the surface.
There’s a reason I’d buried those memories down so deeply as soon as I arrived in Virginia, because thinking about them would mean this. This broken, wounded, weak version of Jael would reappear. And I’m on my own now. I have been for years. I can’t be broken and survive. I have to be stronger.
“Pull it together,” I mutter to myself, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles start to ache.
No, I’m not going to go back to Virginia just yet. I won’t let Owen and the past run me out of town this easily. The past is the past, and I’ve worked too damn hard to escape it. I won’t cry over this town, over Owen, or over that chapter of my life ever again.