12. 2
“That’s a can of worms, right there,” he muttered.
“Well, Paige’s always hated Julia, couldn’t stand her for a lot of reasons I thought were trivial, snooty. Like Paige was above it all.”
“Like what?” Owen asked. He couldn’t imagine Paige thinking she was better than anyone else, but he did know whatever emotions coursed through her, she sure as hell had a hard time hiding. If she had a problem with Julia, she wouldn’t be quiet about it.
“Oh, she didn’t like that Julia worked in retail,” Brad started, but Steve interrupted him with a cough. “Yeah, I know that wasn’t all of it,” Brad said, “but that’s how I saw it. That Paige thought I could do better. I know now she really didn’t like that I worked two jobs and that Julia only worked part time. And that I pay for everything,” Brad said.
Another cough from Steve along with a rolling of the hand for him to continue made Brad sigh.
“Fine.” Brad resembled his mother just then. Owen’d seen Marge get that look of annoyance before—the Connors’s eyebrows furrowed, the lips thin lines of pale pink. “Paige hated that Julia never came to our family functions, that she’d get pissy if I didn’t come to hers. Paige argued that if she couldn’t be bothered to join our family sometimes, then she didn’t love me, not really anyway.”
“Makes sense,” Owen said, tossing back his lemon drop. He could barely make it through the shot without sucking in a breath and trying to shake off the sugar that flooded his system. Give him bottom-of-the-barrel swill any day over that shit. “She looks out for you and doesn’t want you to be taken advantage of.”
“Yeah, I eventually got that, but it took one helluva fight to get us there.”
“Why a fight now if this is how she’s felt all this time?”
“Because this time she accused Julia of cheating on me.”
Steve shot out of his chair, spraying the beer he’d just chugged all over the table.
“What the fuck, man? You buried the lead there.”
Brad ran his hands through his hair and sighed deep.
Well, fuck. Owen looked back and forth between the friends. He found it interesting that Steve was just hearing about this for the first time. Even more interesting that Paige hadn’t mentioned it to Owen earlier, even on the way to the doc’s office. Then again, she didn’t think of him as her boyfriend, so any assumptions that she’d confide in him had been purely on his end. They’d sure made an ass out him, though.
“Sit down,” Brad whispered, eyes darting around the bar that was starting to fill up. “I’m still not sure, but that’s where I need you guys. I don’t wanna go in there guns blazing if Paige’s accusations don’t carry any weight.”
“Do you think she’d have even told you she suspects Julia if she didn’t have some proof?”
“She thinks she’s got proof, that’s the thing. But,” Brad said, looking pointedly at Steve then tossed back his lemon drop. “The three of us have known each other since we were kids.”
“The three of you?” Steve asked.
Now Owen was thoroughly confused. Was Brad talking about him, Julia, and Steve? Because even Steve didn’t seem to know what was going on. Anything left in his bottle went down in one pull.
Brad wrung his hands and looked down at the floor, not at all appearing the confident writer and teacher that Owen had come to know. Something big must be eating at him.
“Paige said she’s cheating with Chris.”
Steve hissed. “The fuck?” he said through a clenched jaw.
“Yeah, that’s why I need you two.” Brad appealed to Owen. “Chris, Julia, and I were best friends when we were little. He moved to Tulsa a few years back for work, but he was back last month and then again a couple weeks ago.”
“Okay, let’s work through this,” Owen said, though his gut went on the defensive for Brad. Deep down in the place that warned him about danger ahead of them on the road, he felt Paige was right about this in the same way he knew Paige was leaving him when he’d been at her apartment earlier. He couldn’t explain why he felt that way, though, and knowing Brad for only a couple months, he didn’t want to say anything until he had something concrete to add to the conversation. “Why does Paige think something’s up?”
Brad sighed, working his way through shredding a paper coaster from the table. Steve waved over a server and with a nod and a sweep at the glasses on the table either commanded her to wipe it clean, or ordered another round of who-knows-what. Owen guessed it was the latter.
“Paige was downtown in Butte for an appointment and saw them coming out of some Italian place holding hands.” He paused, and Owen could see the desperation in Brad’s eyes, the longing for them to tell him nothing was up, that it was normal, that she still loved him. Unfortunately, Steve didn’t see any of that, or if he did, he didn’t give a shit. At the last minute, half to himself, Brad muttered, “And she saw them kiss. Real quick, on the lips, but it was a kiss nonetheless.”
“You can’t seriously think that’s okay?” Steve asked as the server showed up with a tray full of shots, clearly assuming the empty lemon drops and whiskey glasses were all once filled with whiskey. Owen was secretly happy she hadn’t figured it the other way around, but didn’t think Brad would agree. Owen waved her over, as discreetly as he could, pulling out his credit card and handing it to her.
“Can you bring over a round of lemon drop shots, please?” he whispered. He smiled. This situation never would have happened if he was out with his Marines. He got up and walked to the jukebox, letting Brad and Steve have a moment alone. He flipped through the discs, nothing catching his eye until he got to Shania Twain. The top song on her list was the song Paige butchered earlier that day.
Paige was everywhere, wasn’t she? She always would be, too. Owen put away his money, headed back to the guys.
Back at the table, Brad asked him what he thought.
“It doesn’t look good, man,” Owen admitted. “Where was she supposed to be the day Paige saw her?”
Brad’s face fell and he cleared his throat for what seemed like the hundredth time. “At a job interview.”
“Where?” Steve wanted to know. He paced the sticky floor again, his hands on his hips, looking very much like the guy who found out his girlfriend might be cheating, not the friend trying to talk the jilted one off a ledge. He would stop, look up at Brad like he was about to say something, and then go back to walking a hole in the hardwood floors of the bar.
“Helena.”
Steve laughed, a cold, short burst that reminded Owen of the machine gun fire he’d lived with as background music overseas.
“I’ll tell you what it looks like,” Steve chimed in, his smile devoid of any humor. “It looks like she and your ‘best friend’ are shacking up and you don’t want to admit it.”
Owen winced. Steve was right, of course, but being right and being tactful didn’t seem to go hand in hand with him.
“I don’t disagree, but maybe there’s an explanation you haven’t thought of, yet,” Owen started.
Steve snorted, but sat down again, apparently interested. The server came back with the lemon drops, and Brad wasted no time throwing one back like a frat kid on a Friday night. Owen and Steve each took one of the whiskeys and followed suit. The sting as it went down reminded Owen of nights he’d stayed up like this, shooting shit-for-liquor to help a fellow Marine through a divorce, a pregnant girlfriend, or the millions of other distractions that got in the way between the men and their missions.
He would have been fucked if he’d have met Paige during his time in the Corps. There was no way he’d be mission-ready after the number she’d pulled on him. That he’d let her pull on him, his conscience reminded him. He tossed back another shot to silence that part of his brain. He didn’t need logic working against him tonight.
“She could have had the interview and run into Chris on her way back, had dinner, and then gone home.”
Steve nodded as he sipped on his beer.
“She could have.” Brad nodded along, looking very much like he wanted to believe this version of the events. Then, without warning, a shadow crossed on his face. Owen and Steve both leaned in, their elbows on knees, attentive. “She didn’t, though. She ‘went to her mom’s.’” Owen bit the inside of his lip at the air quotes Brad used. Yeah, that didn’t bode well.
“Did she, though?” he asked Brad.
Brad shook his head. “I honestly don’t know, and I really don’t know how I’d ever find that out. Do I ask her? Do I ask her mom? Won’t it look suspicious if I start poking around?”
“Not if she’s actually the one poking around,” Steve said, laughing at his own joke. Brad frowned. “What?” Steve asked, smiling again. “Too soon?”
“It won’t look like anything if you ask her about it the right way. Did you check her credit cards from that night?”
Brad looked up at him. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“It might be a good place to start. Even if she didn’t pay for dinner, maybe she bought something in Butte that could give you reason enough to ask her about that day, what she was doing there.”
Brad smiled, reaching for another of the extra shots Owen had ordered.
“Okay, so that’s the plan. I’ll see what I can find and then what she says. Thanks, guys. Sorry for dragging you through this.”
“No apologies,” Steve said, raising another shot. Owen reached for one, too. Why not? Being his own boss had its perks, chiefly that he didn’t have to show up for anyone the next day except himself. “Man, you got me through weeks of this shit with Katy. I still owe you a few for that.” Steve turned to Owen. “Katy’s the ex. Ran off on me and the business two years ago or so.”
“Sorry, man,” was all Owen could say. Did anything last anymore?
“Ah,” Steve said, “It’s nothing anymore. But man, that shit’ll fuck you up when it first happens. Make you rethink all the crap you think you know.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Brad echoed.
Owen just nodded, deep in thought about Paige. He didn’t know her well, hadn’t been dating her for that long. But still, something about her, about what she did to him, made all those things Steve and Brad talked about ring true. Losing her was messing with him in a way no other breakup had.
“Shot for your thoughts?” Steve asked, handing him another whiskey. Owen sucked in a deep breath, feeling the alcohol already running through his system. Standing on a precipice that told him to go home now or go balls out, he took the shot and raised it. Brad had the last lemon drop and Steve the last whiskey. Owen just wasn’t ready to go home yet.
“Paige?” Brad asked.
Owen nodded, using the whiskey as an excuse for not answering right away.
“Is that weird for you?” he asked Brad.
“Not as weird as I thought it would be,” he said. “Actually, I’ve never seen her as happy, a cancer diagnosis notwithstanding. You’ve been good for her.”
“Not good enough for her to stay,” Owen mused. The server came by and started clearing what looked like a small frat party’s worth of glasses from the table.
“Another round, guys?” the server asked. She stared at Steve, a toothy grin on her face. Owen chuckled, forgetting his problems for a bit.
“Yes, please, sweetheart,” Steve said, matching her smile tooth for tooth. Owen choked back a laugh under the guise of a cough. Steve apparently didn’t miss a beat when it came to women, especially women in charge of his alcohol consumption. He knew she wanted him, played with that. “Can you join us for a round?” he asked her.
The server’s cheeks flushed and she bit her bottom lip like she considered quitting right then and there just to join them.
“Um, I can’t,” she said, regret caught in her throat, tangling the words. “Not right now, anyway. I’m off at midnight,” she told him, ignoring the way Brad’s jaw dropped and Owen’s face contorted into a smile that he tried and failed at hiding.
“Sounds good to me. Keep your night clear, sweetheart,” Steve said, adding an entirely unnecessary wink. There wasn’t a doubt in Owen’s mind she was going home with Steve come hell or high water. “But until then, we’d love another round.”
“The whiskeys or the lemon drops?” she asked, her voice sweeter than the latter and far more potent.
“Yes,” Steve answered. She giggled, a different server than she’d been half an hour earlier now that she’d gained the attention of Steve. Never mind that he had at least a decade on her.
Owen got it, though. Steve was built like a pro wrestler with the face of a Hollywood actor of an indiscernible age. Brad Pitt came to mind, as did George Clooney—men you couldn’t really pin down an age for, because their stupid good looks made it damn near impossible. Like them, Owen bet Steve could pull dates from college women to cougars if he wanted to. Poor sap.
She pranced away and Brad shook his head.
“Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.”
“I could teach you, young Padawan,” Steve teased.
“Not yet, but as of tomorrow evening, that might be a different story. So, anyway, Owen, what do you think Paige is up to?”
The abrupt change in topic threw Owen for a loop. One of their phones buzzed on the table and Brad scooped his up in a frantic rush. Owen would have done the same thing if it was his, hoping it might be Paige, but he’d shut his off entirely when they’d gotten to the bar. Everyone he knew and cared about was there. Well, everyone who cared about him, anyway.
“Everything okay?” Owen asked, when Brad set the phone back down on the table face-down.
Brad nodded.
“Speak of the devil,” was all he said.
“Mine or yours?” Owen wanted to know. Maybe he should have had his phone on.
“Paige. I’ll call her back tomorrow. She probably just wants to bitch, but you’ve got dibs there. So, what the hell happened?”
“Um, Jesus, I don’t know. She was fine when we woke up from a nap, then lost her mind when I questioned her about the papers I found. You called about three minutes after that, so I have no idea the headspace she’s in right now.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and switched it back on, just in case.
“So, she’s really out of here?” Brad asked.
“Seems that way. She hasn’t even unpacked; did you know that? Her suitcase is in the back of the closet, and she either repacked it all recently, or every time she does laundry she puts everything back. Shit, I’ve unpacked for week-long vacations. I don’t know what to think, or how much to care. I mean, has she ever had a serious relationship?”
Owen didn’t miss the look that passed between Steve and Brad.
“What?” he asked, moving to the edge of his seat.
“She has.” Brad leaned forward and Owen and Steve followed suit. “A real piece of work. Broke up last year, which is why she took off to Turks.”
“I hated that guy. Wanted to punch him in his perfectly groomed gonads,” Steve added.
Owen laughed, despite himself.
“A manscaper, huh?” he asked.
“A not-shy-about-his-body manscaper. How many times did we take that guy to the gym and find him naked at some point or another?” Steve asked. “I mean, I’ve met strippers who are naked less than that guy was.”
“I’m sure you have,” Brad chimed in, laughing.
The server came up behind them then, an embarrassed smile curling the corners of her lips. She dropped off the drinks in front of Steve, conveniently leaning over him so he had a perfect view down her low-cut blouse. He threw an exaggerated wink at the guys over her back and placed a hand on her hip.
“Let me help you with those,” he said, his voice thick and corny as hell. He pulled the shots off the tray, his hand planted like a flag. The man had game, Owen conceded. He’d have cleaned up in a uniform.
The server walked back to the bar looking wobbly. As soon as she was out of ear shot, the three men erupted into a fit of laughter.
“And that, gentlemen, is how it’s done. Wait till you see her tomorrow morning.” Steve bowed from his seat. “She’ll never be the same.”
Brad clapped his friend on the back, shaking his head.
“Anyway, let’s just say Paulo didn’t have that kind of swagger. He thought he did, which is how he got himself in trouble,” Brad said.
“The difference is I treat the women I take home with respect and honesty. I’m up-front with them about what it is and what it isn’t, and if there’s anyone else in the picture.”
“You’re a regular saint,” Brad joked, grabbing one of his shots.
“You joke, but I’ve never done anything like Paulo. Never would, either.”
“I’m guessing Paulo is the ex?” Owen asked, his curiosity piqued.
“The one and only. Cheated on Paige. Twice that she knew about. Married the second one while he was still coming to visit Paige.”
“Asshole,” Owen said. It made sense why she didn’t trust him, or anyone for that matter. And why she’d gotten so pissed about Julia. Seeing her brother raked over the same coals probably sent her over the edge. “Makes sense why she came to you about Julia.”
“I know,” Brad said, his voice soft. “At least now I do. It’s part of why I brought her the applications. I thought she was staying, but I couldn’t think of any other way to say I was sorry for acting like a prick.”
“I get it. No harm, no foul. She was gone anyway.” The alcohol slammed into Owen like a prize fighter all of a sudden. The day had, now that all was said and done, gotten the best of him. He wanted to know more about Paulo, but not tonight. He’d call Brad one day that week for some help with the baling, and maybe that would give them time to get into it.
He stood and took one of the whiskeys, raising it to the guys.
“Thanks for a good night, guys. I needed this.” He slung it back, hissing as it burned more than the last few had.
“We’ll do it again soon,” Steve said, standing to shake his hand.
“You bet.”
“Do you need a ride?” Brad asked, joining the other two but looking worse for the wear. Lemon drops or not, Owen bet Brad didn’t go out like this much. He was probably three sheets gone. Owen found the check, along with his card and a pen for him to sign for the shots.
Not too bad for a small town, he mused, leaving a generous tip. Poor girl had no idea the heartache heading for her.
“Not from you, buddy. Call him a cab?” Owen asked Steve, who nodded as he steadied his friend.
“Yeah, I shouldn’t drive,” Brad announced. Owen laughed.
“No man, you shouldn’t. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Steve—be good. Have fun.”
Steve laughed heartily and nodded, then sat back down to wait out the server, whose name he still didn’t know. Owen thought back to his first few years in the Corps when he had no scruples and an insatiable libido, about how much simpler things had been back then.
“I’m-a gonna stay a bit. Have another,” Brad said.
“Have fun, man. You deserve it.” Owen waved them off and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
The chill of the fall air crept into the nights now, tucked under his shirt collar, sending a shiver down his spine. He popped the collar, shrugged his shoulders over his ears and walked down the road. It was quiet, another benefit to the small town. He’d never been anywhere that he could hear his own thoughts, and any night other than that night he’d have been appreciative, but in that moment, he didn’t like the idea of only himself for company. Too many demons had the chance to catch him off guard.
He looked at his watch. It was 12:03 a.m. It was tomorrow. Finally. Not that walking down the deserted country road between a bar and his new home was the way he imagined it, but this would be his fresh start, he promised himself. The rest had been his transition between the Corps and civilian life, and now it was time to buck up, get serious about the type of life he wanted to live, the person he wanted to be. The asshole who’d flipped out at Paige wasn’t him anymore, it just wasn’t. He’d sleep in just enough to take the edge off the hangover awaiting him, take care of some much-needed restocking of his supplies before the first fall storm blew in. Which didn’t seem that far off as the cold continued its hostile takeover of his body, starting from the top and working its way down. Then he’d get to work.
He saw more trail rides and runs and long fall nights on the deck he was fixing up with a beer after a full day’s work. The rest was foggy, but that was a good thing. It meant he had the time and space to mold the fog into a life he could be proud of.
Just as the chill in the air was about to wave the white flag for him, he rounded the corner a block from his place. He looked up at the apartment window above Paige’s parents’ garage, not surprised to see it dark, the shades drawn as he passed.
He had to start thinking about it as Alan and Marge’s place, Brad’s parents’ farm. Paige didn’t exist there, and maybe she never had. The timing for starting a relationship would be shit anyway right now. He needed to finish working on his farm to get it to the point where it was maintenance, not rehab, and he needed more than anything to chase his demons away once and for all.
A shiver tore down Owen’s spine as he thought about them, the past and the voices and the people he carried with him on his back, weighing him down. He jogged the last thirty yards to his house, bounded up the steps to his front door and shot up the stairs like he was being chased by the devil himself. He wanted them gone, all of them, and though it would take time, he wished he could exorcise the past and the haunting guilt that came with it.
The shitty thing was, he’d thought he was past it. Every night he’d spent with Paige was one without the crippling nightmares, without waking in a panic, watching his men die at his feet over and over again, a blooper reel of horror on a never-ending loop.
He closed his eyes, knowing sleep was still hours away from his bedside, wondering how she could leave when he only just realized how much he needed her. His thoughts ran him through the emotional equivalent of the crucible, making it impossible for him to notice anything else, including the lights that went on next door, and his phone that buzzed on the table next to him.
For all intents and purposes, Owen was dead to the outside world, even as it reached out to him.