Chapter 13 #2
“Why does it matter?” I said. “It’s none of their business. Besides, to them, I’m just Georgia Ellis’s screw-up kid. As worthless and wild as she was. They’d rather talk about what a fuckup I was in high school or how I should have been in jail for being a hellion.”
“That was a long time ago, Jack.” Her voice was gentle, like she was talking to someone unreasonable, an unruly child.
My jaw clenched. I wasn’t irrational; I just knew that small minds and small towns didn’t change.
“All I’m saying is,” Bonnie added, “you don’t have to hide that you own Magnolia or—”
“I don’t hide it,” I argued. “Most people are quick to assume and even quicker to judge.”
Also, how dare Bonnie, of all people, criticize me about this? She hid herself every damn day of her life. From her friends and her family and her coworkers. From everyone.
Not from you, a traitorous little voice reminded me.
“Right, but you care,” she accused. “This isn’t some part-time job for you. You built Magnolia from the ground up. You love it. You named it after someone important to you. You’re not just—”
“Just what?” I snapped when she abruptly cut herself off. “Just a bartender? Is that what you were going to say? Is being just a bartender not good enough for you, apple princess?”
Bonnie swallowed. “No, I didn’t mean—”
My harsh laughter interrupted whatever apology she had locked and loaded.
I could feel myself losing control of this conversation.
How it had transformed, taking the shape of something private and painful that I didn’t want to talk about.
“Right. That’s why I’m your dirty little secret.
Slumming it with the low-life bartender until you manage to crawl out from rock bottom.
” Her face paled, but I kept right on going, intent on turning this around.
To push until she was gone. Determined to destroy whatever quiet, secret thing we were building behind closed doors.
“Your perfect family would hate to see you brought so low as to associate with the likes of me.”
She fell back on her wounded-bird routine, shoulders hunched and voice hushed. “You don’t even know them.”
“Yeah, and whose choice is that?” I asked bitterly. “You sneak around with me because, God forbid, anyone sees you as a living, breathing adult woman. Safer to stay on that pedestal, isn’t it? All while your piece-of-shit ex picks up tourists in my bar every weekend.”
If she was pale before, it was nothing compared to the sickly pallor of her skin now. Bonnie looked gut-shot, stark and cold, and utterly stunned. She blinked quickly, and two tears beat a hasty path down her cheeks before she could scrub them away.
I should have known, I thought. That she wasn’t over him.
She wouldn’t look like I’d just sucker punched her if she was really done with Danny.
And why should I care about that? She was pretty damn honest when she was drunk on my bathroom floor weeks ago, saying she’d take him back if he wanted her.
I couldn’t imagine much had changed in the month or so since.
Still, something sharp twisted in my chest at the sight of those tears—at her obvious misery.
Bonnie turned without saying a word, hurrying toward the door.
I took a step—to what? Stop her? I didn’t know.
I shook my head, mad at myself for taking my frustration out on her.
Bonnie didn’t ask for this. We’d only been fucking for a few weeks, for Christ’s sake.
What was wrong with me? I watched her struggle to grab her things by the front door and hated myself a little more.
She left quietly, without a backward glance, shutting the door softly behind her. Even in her obvious hurt and anger, she couldn’t just let herself slam a fucking door. Picture-perfect till the bitter end.
Thirty seconds later, and I was standing where she’d been, my hand hovering over the doorknob, thinking I should go after her and tell her I was sorry. Give her an apology of my own. Likely the only one between us that had ever been warranted.
Just as my fingers shaped themselves around the cool metal, a knock sounded from the other side.
Relief came swiftly as I flung the door wide. If she was back, even to argue, that was a good thing.
But that hope died as I met the wide, startled gaze of a delivery person holding the bag of takeout.
“Sorry,” the kid murmured uncertainly. “I was just going to leave it.”
I took the food without a word, forcing myself not to slam the door in the guy’s face. It wasn’t his fault, after all.
Nope. The only person I had to blame was myself.
Can we talk?
I’d sent the text two hours after Bonnie had left. I’d shoved the takeout in the fridge and gone for a long drive on my motorcycle, no destination in mind.
It was now Monday afternoon, and I was getting ready for my shift at Magnolia, and there was still no response.
Maybe she’d make this easy and just let it go. In the grand scheme of things, a few weeks with someone wasn’t a big deal.
So I wasn’t sure why I felt like I’d ruined something important.
I’d let my own screwed-up headspace mess things up, and then I’d lashed out at Bonnie for asking perfectly reasonable questions about my business. She’d just inadvertently pressed on a tender spot, one that was already bruised from the mental backflips I’d been doing.
I’d made a lot of mistakes over the years. Backed myself into plenty of corners. And there was nothing worse than starting a fight with someone you cared about when the only person you were battling was yourself.
Work went by fast. It was nearly a week before Halloween, and the leaves had hit their peak in Western North Carolina. Tourists were in town by the droves, and Magnolia was packed as a result. I ended up staying late to help Sasha and Kayla close up.
The first thing I did when the door was locked and the lights were off was check my phone. Still nothing from Bonnie.
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. Then I checked the time. 12:38 a.m.
It was late, but I could go over to her house. I knew her well enough to know that she’d probably be awake.
Mind made up, I slid my phone in my pocket and took the stairs up to my apartment two at a time.
I’d change clothes and drive over, see if we could talk things out.
Even if she didn’t want anything to do with me, I didn’t want it to end like this.
I cared about her, probably more than was wise, and I couldn’t stand the thought of those being the final words between us.
That the last thing I ever did where Bonnie was concerned was to make her cry.
I was halfway up the flight of stairs before I registered the figure sitting at the top. My steps slowed, and my heart picked up at the sight of her blond head bent over a book on her lap. Regret settled in my middle alongside stark relief. She’d come. Bonnie hadn’t written me off just yet.
She wore black sweatpants and an ancient college sweatshirt, fuzzy clogs on her feet. Her hair was pulled into a tiny knot on the top of her head.
At my shuffling steps, Bonnie lifted her head and met my gaze. Without looking away, she tucked a bookmark between the pages of her book and set it behind her on the landing.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” I echoed, feeling shamefaced and heartsick all over again.
“I was already in panda mode when I decided to come over, and I didn’t want to change,” she explained, like that made any sense.
I closed the distance between us and sat next to her on the top step. “What is panda mode?”
“It’s when I wear my most comfortable clothing and let myself relax.
Usually, there are snacks involved, and I don’t answer the phone.
Laziness personified. A personal recharge.
Unfortunately, you get the basic factory settings at the moment.
No makeup or hair products. Just me. Although halfway over, I realized I probably should have put on a bra. Alas.”
“Alas,” I agreed, fighting a smile. “I’m glad you came. You didn’t need to sit here all night, though.”
Bonnie smiled down at her lap. “Don’t worry. Bookworms generally don’t mind an extended wait. It’s where we do some of our best work.”
Silence descended like a blanket over us. Despite an entire day spent thinking about what I wanted to say to Bonnie, I wasn’t sure where to start. Sometimes you just had to start talking and let your brain catch up with your heart.
After a shaky breath, I admitted, “I’m really fucking sorry, Bonnie.
I shouldn’t have lashed out at you yesterday about the bar.
It was stupid and immature. I’m sorry I hurt you to protect myself.
It wasn’t fair, and I regret it. And you asked for secrecy, and I agreed to it.
I shouldn’t have tried to punish you for it. ”
Bonnie nodded when I finished speaking. “I’m sorry too.
And before you tell me to stop apologizing, I just want to say something here.
” She turned a little so she could face me.
“Jack, I’m not ashamed to be seen with you.
I’m not embarrassed or anything like that.
I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like secrecy was more important to me than you are.
There is a part of me—and you were right about this—that cares too much about what other people think.
I didn’t want nosy neighbors gossiping about me behind my back. ”
“You don’t owe me anyth—”
“I do,” she interrupted. “I do owe you an explanation. In the beginning, I just wanted—I wanted something for myself. Every interaction with you felt electric, a little buzz beneath my skin. Even when you irritated me or made fun of my muffins.” She smiled at the memory of us bickering on the third-base line like it was something fond, and that made me ache even more.
“I liked it. And I wanted to be selfish for once in my life. I wanted something that was just for me. I know how this town can be—judgmental and meddlesome—and I didn’t want to scare you off. ”
Bonnie looked away following the admission, so I reached for her hand and squeezed, desperate for her to keep talking, suddenly grateful I’d been so wrong in my assumptions.
“I like you, Jack,” she confessed, attention on our fingers braided together.
“And I wasn’t ready to let go of that control.
It made me feel powerful, or at least like I held some power in the situation.
Mostly because I was waiting for you to realize that I’m not worth the effort.
I thought if I kept things easy breezy, in a way you were used to—casual, no commitment—that you might want to stick around. ”
I frowned, baffled that she possibly believed that to be true. “Bonnie.”
Her smile was self-deprecating, but she finally met my gaze. “It’s just hard for me to understand why someone like you wants anything to do with someone like me—someone boring and safe and a little broken.”
“You’re not broken,” I insisted.
“Dented, then,” she corrected with a humorless laugh. “On the clearance rack at the very least.”
Her honesty and vulnerability made me want to wrap her in my arms and tell her about the woman I saw when I looked at her.
The one with patience and love and understanding for everyone but herself.
But I knew Bonnie wasn’t in a place to have one more person discount her feelings.
Men weren’t put on this earth to prove women wrong.
But I thought people forgot that, using their volume to drown each other out, when really all they needed to do was listen.
“I don’t think you see yourself very clearly, Clyde,” I said gently. “And I know you don’t see me accurately.”
But she shook her head. “I just keep waiting for you to remember that you’re the coolest guy in school and I’m the mousey sophomore watching you from the window.”
“You wouldn’t have wanted to know me back then,” I told her.
I was sure I’d looked better from a distance.
If she’d been close enough to be on my radar, I probably would have hurt her.
I’d been young and stupid, on a path toward destruction, bound and determined.
I would have taken her with me. “And we’re not those people anymore, either one of us. ”
“You’re right,” she replied softly. “I think I keep trying to get back to the Bonnie I used to be, and too much has changed.”
“You should try being the Bonnie you are now,” I said, squeezing her fingers. “I think she’s pretty great.”
Her cheeks went a little pink, but she didn’t argue. “We can be as public as you want to be. I’m not trying to pressure you or—or make you my boyfriend or something. I’m fine with casual. But we can be done with hiding. If you want.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “I’d like that.”
I’d never been with someone long enough to have an argument, much less reach a resolution to one. There was something to be said for honesty and communication. I was glad Bonnie hadn’t just given up on me and moved on. Grateful that she’d given me the chance to apologize for my shitty behavior.
“And I like basic factory settings,” I said earnestly. “We should panda mode together sometime.”
She grinned over at me.
“Or does that break the rules?” I asked. “Do you need to be alone to recharge? Would that still fill your bucket?”
Bonnie pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh. Then she confessed, “I really want to make a joke about you filling my bucket.”
I burst out laughing.
She smiled and assured me, “But we can do panda mode together whenever you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure.” She nodded. “Do you have gray sweatpants?”
“Is that required?”
Her brown eyes sparkled. “No, just encouraged.”
“I know it’s late and you have work in the morning, but do you want to come in? I haven’t had dinner yet. Thought we could heat up a midnight snack. I have samosas.”
“Those are my favorites.”
I stood and pulled her with me.
Fighting my own laughter, I replied, “Yeah. I know.”