29. Julie
29
“ W hat the hell are you doing here?” I shut the door behind me, practically shoving her off the porch. “How did you find me?”
“Cash’s story. I know he’s Jacob’s little brother. He posted about flying back to North Carolina and you’re in the background. I followed you here.”
“Are you stalking me now?”
“No! I’m not interested in you ,” she says, a little offended.
She looks like your average girl.
Washed-out jeans. Cream hoodie. Her hair in a messy bun. With pale skin and circles below her gaze, she looks exhausted. Like she’s been on a twenty-four-hour flight and she can’t wait to get to bed.
But it’s the wildness, the determination, in her brown eyes that tugs on my heartstrings more than I like. I admire that. Because it’s a level of confidence I haven’t found in the mirror yet.
She folds her hands together. “Please listen to me. Just two minutes.”
I feel for her. I really do. And maybe, if she didn’t corner me like this, again , I would take the time to listen to her. But right now, I’m not interested in what she has to say. Not when all my friends are behind that door, ready to go nuts when they find out the truth.
“This is my best friend's house. You need to leave,” I hiss.
“I know he hurt you too.”
“You don’t know shit. Leave.” I mean it.
But then why does my stomach twist, regardless?
Just ignore it, Julie. Go back in. She’ll leave.
I turn around to put my money where my mouth is, but her next sentence has me freezing like the air turned to a minus hundred in a millisecond.
“He bragged about it.” My breath is stolen away as she carefully continues. “Said no one ever dares to say no to him. Not even his girlfriend .”
The betrayal runs deep. It buzzes through my veins, but mostly I’m embarrassed. Humiliated. Regretful. Embarrassed because am I weak enough to let a man use me like that? Hurt me like that?
I’m humiliated because, apparently, he’s running his mouth about it. All this time, I told myself he was drunk. He didn’t mean to hurt me. He was just wasted and didn't read the signs well enough. Was too fucking blitzed out of his mind to hear my no.
I blamed myself for not being more persistent, more resistant, for not putting up a fight because he was my boyfriend . And here’s this absolute lunatic, opening his trap like it was a moment worth bragging about.
I didn’t stand up for myself enough. I should have punched him in the face and wormed myself out of his grip. But I didn’t. I let it happen, until the next day when I decided I couldn’t take any more of his abuse. Not verbally, but certainly not physically. Up until that day, Jacob had never physically hurt me. That night was the first time, but at least I was strong enough to draw the line there.
We broke up. That alone should make me feel confident, and strong. But as I continue to stare into big brown eyes that have been through the same as I did, I’m anything but strong.
My breakfast is threatening to come up, and I grip the railing of the porch as I move past her to keep my legs from buckling underneath me.
“Look, I get it.” I feel her gaze lasered into my spine. “You just want to forget and move on. But multiple women pressing charges will have a bigger impact than one.”
That son of a bitch.
He’s disgusting. I’m disgusted. I am not the only one? How many more are there?
Fuck .
She’s right. He needs to be stopped. I can’t allow him to hurt any more women.
But the second I think about it, the face of his brother pops into my head.
Jason.
If I betray Jacob. If I turn him in. Tell the truth, there’s no doubt what he will do. He will not take it out on me. He will take it out on his brother. Everything Jason has worked for in the past year, it will be all for nothing. There has to be another way.
I fill my lungs as much as I can, then blow it back out to settle my nausea.
She’s right, but I can’t do what she wants right now. First, I have to find a way to make sure Jason will not be taking the fall with him.
I need to get that damn tape.
I spin on my heels to face her.
“I’m sorry he hurt you, I really am. But I will not be pressing charges against anyone.”
The sheer disappointment of her puffy cheeks breaks my heart into splinters. I feel her pain coming at me like a gust of wind, but I have to put Jason first.
“Why not? Why are you protecting him?”
“I’m not protecting him.”
“You are,” she yells, and I take a step into her space.
“Keep your voice down! You don’t know everything, okay?”
“I know he’s a fucking rapist.” Her voice breaks, and what was left of my heart breaks with it.
I’ve known for a while now. I’ve experienced it myself, though I still can’t believe that happened to me. But hearing it out loud? Yeah, that’s a whole different level of hurt that’s slapping me in the face.
But if I show her I care, she will bite her teeth into my flesh and she won’t leave until I do as she’s begging me to. It’s as clear as the feral specks dancing in her eyes. I need time, and she won’t give it to me.
The fact that she’s standing on my best friend’s porch tells me as much.
“That’s enough!” I snap. “You need to leave now. Or I will call the cops.”
Her eyebrows knit together into a deep scowl. Whatever patience she mustered to have with me now gone with the fucking wind. She’s pissed.
I would be too if I were her.
“You know, I felt sorry for you.” Oh, damn. “But now, I realize you’re not a victim of his. You’re just as bad as he is. You enable him. You disgust me,” she spits.
Trust me, girl. I’m right there with you.
She stomps down the small steps, off the front yard until she reaches the sidewalk. With one more glare, our eyes collide, and she flips me off.
“You’re pathetic, Julie.”
Her words are like bullets to the chest. Painful, sharp, and hitting their mark perfectly. Because she’s right. I am pathetic. I should have never let it get this far.
I should have come clean with my friends from the start.
But instead, I tried to be the bigger girl. I tried to not be the bitter ex, out to destroy the life of the man who repeatedly cheated on her, until that wasn’t enough and he decided he could just take her as he pleased.
As soon as she’s out of sight, my legs drop to the ground as I squat on the edge of the porch. Tears paint my cheeks while I try to huff and puff my way to a steady breath again.
This shit was all supposed to end the moment Jacob and I broke up.
How did it get any worse?
Breaking up with him was supposed to give me my freedom.
Instead, it gave me shackles that are thicker than steel.
I focus on my breathing to calm myself down while wiping my tears away.
Get it together, Jules.
First things first. You need to find a way to make sure that whatever happens, Jason will not take the fall.
My heart is finally settling down, my stomach a little less shaky, and I return to my full height. Breathe . If I can face my fear with open water. I can sure as hell fix this without destroying Jason’s life.
My phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans, and I pull it out.
DAD: Heard you’re home. I need your help with a last-minute showing.
DAD: It’s the Victorian.
Holy shit, he finally pulled it off.
I smile, but it quickly dissolves.
Guilt runs up and down my spine, being fully aware that for him to know I’m in town and not staying with them, it’s probably only adding to the disappointment he’s feeling for me. But it still makes my heart tick with a little hope.
After what he thinks I did, I’m surprised he still asks me for help. Especially with this listing.
ME: When?
DAD: In twenty minutes.
ME: I’m on my way.
Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t just up and leave when it’s Hunter’s birthday. But in this case, I’m taking on each opportunity to show my dad I’m still me.
I’m still his daughter who wouldn’t even think about stealing money from his company. Or quit out of the blue and move to the other side of the country.
I sneak back in to retrieve Charlotte’s car keys from the side table in the hall, then get back out and drive off in her Jeep.
The moment I’m in the solitude of the vehicle, my muscles relax into the leather seats, anticipation slipping a smile onto my lips.
I haven’t done a showing in so long. I missed it.
I always loved strolling through gorgeous houses, experiencing those beaming faces when they just knew this was their new home. But I always enjoyed the challenge of actually selling a property as well.
I’d thrive on conversation where a couple wasn’t on the same page, or one of them was a little more critical, asking hard questions. Those were the most rewarding of all. Especially when, eventually, you get them both happy and excited to move into their new house.
Fifteen minutes later, I park the car on the driveway of the big Victorian house that’s been a red thread into my childhood.
The outside is still as imposing and impressive as I remember it to be, though the outside woodwork clearly needs a touch-up.
I get out, ambling over the cobblestone driveway, loving the detail, then push through the heavy wooden door to meet my dad.
“Daddy?” I call out, taking the chandelier in the foyer, which is a piece of art itself. “Are you in h–”
Steady strides demand my attention, and I turn my head toward the sound.
My words get choked back. My heart tripping.
I never thought you could feel fear and rage at the same time, but it’s all rushing through me like a crushing wave, knocking me off my feet.
Blood boils as hot as lava.
Cold sweat coats my back.
Brittle hairs lift to the air.
My stomach somersaults.
But the combination makes me homicidal as I stare into blue eyes that I’ve once loved but now hate with a passion.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Jacob?”