Chapter 6 – Chris
I stand rooted to the spot as I watch Jennie disappear down the back hallway. It leads to the restrooms, as well as out the back door. I have no idea what just happened. All I did was reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she flinched like she thought I was going to hit her.
What in the hell? I know a fucking red flag when I see one.
I move quickly, heading down the hall hoping to catch her, but the hallway is empty. She’s either in the women’s restroom, or she actually made it out the back door into the dark of night. I certainly hope it’s not the latter. It’s not safe for a woman to walk home alone in the dark.
My pulse starts pounding at the idea of Jennie being outside on her own, especially in the frame of mind she’s in right now.
I turn and head back toward the dance floor. The two women who would best know Jennie’s past history would be Maggie and Ruth. Maggie’s the closest, so I wave her over. She comes right away, Owen behind her.
“Hey, Chris.” Maggie is a bit breathless from dancing. “What’s up?”
“Something just happened with Jennie. One minute we were dancing, and the next she raced off in a panic. She seemed utterly spooked.”
Maggie glances around the room as if she’s looking for someone. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“Absolutely nothing, I swear. All I did was fix her hair, and she flinched. The look on her face—God, Maggie, please. See if she’s in the ladies’ room, and if she is, make sure she’s okay.”
Maggie heads for the back hallway with me and Owen right behind her. The two of us wait while Maggie slips into the ladies’ room. Less than a minute later, she returns.
“She’s okay. She’s just a bit tired after a long day. She said she’s ready to head home.”
“Okay.” I nod. “That’s fine. I’ll walk her.”
Maggie shares a look with Owen before she smiles at me apologetically. “Actually, she asked if Owen and I would take her home tonight.”
I open my mouth to argue—I always walk Jennie home from the tavern—but the look on Maggie’s face shuts me down quick.
Jennie’s not fine, and Maggie knows it. And now, so do I. And yet no one’s telling me a damn thing.
I feel like shit knowing this is somehow my fault. “Maggie—”
She shakes her head. “Just let it be, Chris.” Her voice is gentle and filled with understanding. “She’s tired, and we’re taking her home. That’s it. Don’t make this into anything more. She said to tell you she’s sorry for the way she reacted, and that she’ll see you tomorrow.”
I stand here frustrated and confused and feeling guilty as hell. Somehow I hurt my best friend, and I don’t know how.
Jennie finally comes out of the restroom, her eyes red, her cheeks damp. She’s obviously been crying.
My heart sinks because I did this to her. “Jennie—”
She gives me a teary smile. “Hey, Chris.” She does her best to sound upbeat. “Thanks for the dance. That was fun. I’m not feeling so hot, so I think I’ll head home now. Maggie and Owen offered to drive me as they’re heading home now, too.”
We all know that’s a lie.
Jennie reaches out and squeezes my hand in what feels like a conciliatory gesture. Her bright smile looks forced. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
I squeeze her hand in return. It feels so slight in mine, her skin so incredibly soft. “Sure. Get some rest. I hope you’re feeling better soon.”
“I will. Please say goodnight to everyone for me, will you?”
Reluctantly, I release her hand. “I will.”
Jennie heads for the back door, Maggie and Owen close on her heels. I know she’s in good hands, but I can’t help worrying. Something happened to her tonight, out on that dance floor. Something bad. I know fear when I see it.
The problem is, Jennie has nothing to be afraid of. At least, not that I know of. And certainly she has no reason to fear me. I’d die before I ever laid a finger on her.
Obviously, there’s something going on I don’t know about.
I head back to join the others. All of the guys are now seated with the women at their table. Everyone but Jennie, Maggie, and Owen, who are conspicuously absent.
“Where did the others go?” Ruth asks as she scans the crowded room.
“They just left,” I say. “Maggie was tired, and Jennie wasn’t feeling well. Owen and Maggie offered to take Jennie home.” Or at least that’s the story.
“Pregnancy will do that to you,” Maya says as she refills her beer glass. “It knocks the wind right out of your sails.” She takes a big swig. “At least that’s what I hear.”
Everyone easily accepts the excuses why the three of them left so early. Everyone but me. Micah gives me a questioning look, but I shrug it off.
I’m too restless to stay any longer. What I really want to do is drive over to Jennie’s house and check on her myself, but I can’t get past the fact that I’m the one who set her off in the first place.
Maybe she doesn’t want to see me right now.
So instead, I say goodnight to everyone and head home.
Five minutes later, I pull into my driveway and park the SUV in the detached garage. I walk into the house through the back door.
My house is nothing fancy, but it’s clean and tidy.
It’s a veritable palace compared to the filthy, moldy, bug-infested trailer I spent the first eighteen years of my life in.
The trailer had only one bedroom, which my mom took.
I slept in the living room on a threadbare, brown plaid sofa mom and I picked up off the side of the road.
It was destined for the trash, but it was actually better than the sofa we had at the time.
At least this one didn’t smell like booze and piss.
There was only one bathroom in our trailer, and half the time the toilet didn’t work. I often had to use the public outhouse.
The back door of my house leads right into a small galley kitchen. There’s not enough room for a table, so I eat off a folding tray in the living room in front of the TV. There is a little dining nook, but it’s been taken up by my treadmill and free weights.
I’ve got a decent chunk of money saved up to purchase something nicer, but since it’s just me, and I’m hardly ever home, what’s the point? It’s not like I have a family to provide for. I might as well keep the money in the bank until I have need of it.
I remove my boots inside the door and grab a cold beer from the fridge. As I carry it to the living room, I pop the cap and plop down on the sofa. Out of habit, I turn on the TV for background noise and nurse my beer.
The image of Jennie flinching keeps playing in my head, over and over, and I wrack my brain trying to figure out what the hell I did wrong.
I’ve danced with her before and never had an issue.
We laugh, we joke, we touch each other casually all the time.
We’re affectionate with each other like close friends are. We hug a lot.
So what was different about tonight? All I did was reach out to fix her hair. It was perfectly innocent. I relive the moment in slow motion, over and over, searching for a clue. There’s got to be something.
All I did was—
reach out,
with my hand,
toward her face.
Fuck!
My blood turns to ice. I’ve seen enough domestic violence cases to recognize an abuse victim when I see one. I come across them a lot in my line of work.
The question is—who in the fucking hell hurt Jennie Lopez? And why don’t I know about it?