Chapter 5 #2
“Couldn’t help but notice two drop-dead-gorgeous ladies as we were walking by,” he says, stepping closer.
He leans forward, accentuating the angles of his collarbone.
The other two guys linger behind him—I give them a quick once-over, taking them in.
One has sandy hair and an easy grin, the other is dark-haired and quiet, watching with mild interest.
I arch an eyebrow. “Does that line actually work?”
He shrugs, flashing his perfect teeth. “You haven’t told me to beat it yet, so I’d say I’m in for a chance.”
I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face.
Reagan grins. “Unfortunately for you three, I’m taken,” she says casually. “But she’s not.” She nods at me, mischief in her eyes.
I nudge her in the ribs, laughing softly. The blonde guy cocks one eyebrow at me. His ice-blue eyes are persistent, curious. “So, what’s it gonna take for you to let me buy you a drink then?”
I let out a soft laugh, more amused than offended. “You’re confident, I’ll give you that.”
“She would love to,” Reagan says. “In fact, we both would. I am parched and I know there is an incredible cocktail bar over the road. I might be taken, but I never say no to a free drink. I’m sure one of you can buy.”
She pushes to her feet, flicking her hair, completely unbothered.
God, I wish I had her confidence.
“I guess I don’t get a choice,” I say casually, and take the hand that is now extended for me.
He chuckles, then helps me pick up my towel.
“Just so you know,” I say, packing my things away. “My dad is a biker, so if you try anything, I can make sure you’re buried where no one will find you.”
“Biker dad?” He grins, unbothered. “That’s badass.”
Reagan wiggles her brows at me.
“I’m Violet, by the way,” I say, dusting off my cut-off shorts.
“Jacob.” He smiles, and I notice the faint scar at the corner of his mouth. “Pleasure.”
We finish up, and with our new friends, head over the street.
This could either be a very good, or a very bad idea.
I guess we’re about to find out.
Inside the cocktail bar, the neon lights pulse in shades of red and blue, painting the floor in splashes of color.
A lazy rock beat thrums from the jukebox in the corner.
The air smells of beer, perfume, and some kind of fried food—comfortable, familiar.
We slide into a booth upholstered in burgundy leather, backs pressed against the fake vinyl.
Reagan and I order the fruitiest cocktail we can find, while the three men take beer.
“What, too masculine for a cocktail?” I tease.
Jacob laughs. “I can’t have you thinking I’m not man enough. Not yet at least.”
Conversation sparks between us easily. Jacob is so friendly and effortless to talk to, considering that men who look like him aren’t always easy to converse with.
He tells me he’s training to be a police officer—steady, disciplined, determined.
I tell him I’m just home for a visit and still deciding if I am going to stay or not.
I lean forward, elbows on the table, my heart fluttering in my chest. For a moment, his presence sweeps away the sharp ache in my chest where Travis used to be.
For a second, just a second, I almost forget about Travis. Almost.
The evening runs away from me, drinks multiplying faster than the minutes.
Reagan is on the dance floor, doing her thing, and Jacob talks about his rookie training nightmares, and he isn’t shy about asking questions, either.
Where did I grow up—here, right? Where did I run to?
Did I like the city? Every few minutes, he grins to let me know he is enjoying my conversation.
The jukebox flips over to some classic anthem, and a group of guys by the pool table start singing along.
Loudest among them is a man with a mohawk, half his hair bleached white, and I can’t help but laugh as he breaks it down.
For a minute, I feel good. Not healed, not even numb, just a little closer to myself.
It’s nice to think of something other than Travis for one night.
Two hours on, the bar has grown tight with bodies and sound, and I’m about to excuse myself for a bathroom run when I feel every cell in my body stand on high alert.
Like it knows before I do. I don’t see him at first—I hear him.
Travis’s laugh, loud and booming, even over the music.
I twist, facing the direction it came from when I see him at the bar in a black shirt that clings to his chest, hair all messy and his grin easy.
A grin I haven’t seen in a while.
He doesn’t see me straight away. Three girls flank him, like none of them are quite willing to step away and let the other girl in.
Travis is in his element, laughing in that full-body way that used to make me feel invincible and now only makes me want to run in the opposite direction.
Jacob follows my stare, and when I look back, his eyes are wide. “Is that Travis Phoenix?”
Before I can answer, Reagan is back at the table, placing her hands down on it, sweat trickling down her forehead. “Do you want to leave? We can leave?”
Jacob looks confused.
“No.”
My answer is final.
A few minutes later, Travis spots us. Spots me.
And he wastes no time. His eyes don’t move past my face, not for a second, as he closes the space between us.
The women at his side peel off, disappointed, like they know instinctively this is not about them and he is suddenly not interested in them hanging off him.
“Is there a reason he is coming over here?” Jacob asks.
“Ah... well, he, ah, is kind of my ex.”
Jacob doesn’t get the chance to answer before Travis is at our table.
But he stands up first. He’s tall, and for a moment, I wonder if Travis would back down from someone bigger than him.
But Travis is a different kind of big—the kind that doesn’t show up in height or width, but in the way he can fill a room with his anger and willingness to do basically anything.
“Hey,” Jacob says, level, and extends a hand, not showing an ounce of intimidation.
I respect that.
Travis ignores it. “Violet.”
He leans across the table, palms flat, so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
Great.
He’s drunk.
So am I.
This doesn’t tend to end well.
“What are you doing here?” he goes on when I say nothing.
“Having a drink,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “With a friend, so if you don’t mind, I would appreciate getting back to it.”
“I do fuckin’ mind.”
“Man, you want to maybe calm down?” Jacob says, still standing, still staring at Travis.
Travis doesn’t even blink. He speaks to me as if Jacob isn’t even in the room with us. “You come back to town after all these years, and this... this is what you do?”
Oh, he did not.
“If you have something to say to me, Travis, say it.” I snap. “Because I am quite sick of your anger being tossed at me.”
He jerks his chin in Jacob’s direction. “You trying to piss me off?”
Reagan clears her throat, loud. “You’re making a scene, Phoenix.”
Still nothing.
He will not acknowledge anyone else.
I don't want this to escalate.
I stand. “Let’s go talk outside,” I say, because if we don’t, he will have this entire room recording us in minutes and then my face will be all over the damn internet, again.
He follows me out.
We don’t even make it past the bottom step before he spins on me. The air outside is cooler now, but his breath is hot on my face as he leans in close.
“Is this really your plan? Show up after all these years, and rub other guys in my face as if you being back in town isn’t fucking enough?”
I shake my head, shocked that he is still making all of this about him. I get anger, but this... this is something else entirely. “I came back to make sure you weren’t dead, Travis. You have made it very clear how you feel, so I don’t know why you’re here carrying on like this.”
He steps in closer. The hurt is real now, and it stings. “You’re playing fucking games with me. Just go home. Why the fuck are you still here?”
“Because for whatever goddamned reason, I can’t seem to walk away from you.”
My voice is shaky now, but I don’t back down.
“Funny, it didn’t fucking stop you two years ago. Don’t let it hold you back now.”
I lean in, so there’s no way he can miss the next part. “You know what, I don’t even know who you are anymore. If this is the kind of man you have become, Travis Phoenix, then that little girl is far better off without you.”
I know my words are harsh, and deep down, I regret them as soon as they leave my lips, but it’s too late now. He reels, physically, and for a split second I see the boy I loved, not the man he became. “Fuck you, Violet. Fuck you for coming back just to break everything all over again.”
I glare at him, my voice unwavering. “That’s where you’re wrong. You broke it, Travis.”
He stares at me, for a long, long moment.
I don’t let him have another second.
I turn and walk back inside, every inch of me shaking, and sit down next to Jacob, who doesn’t ask any questions, just tells the bartender to bring me a water and offers me a smile I probably don’t deserve.
I don’t know how much longer I can do this.
Maybe I should just go home.
Maybe it’s better for everyone if I do.