Wanted

Chapter 13

Frankie

At six o’clock sharp thenext evening, Jude knocks on my bedroom door. I brush my hands over the black jeans and silky top before walking out of the room like I’m headed to my own funeral.

Every step down the stairs and into his van calls attention to my lack of experience in this department. Whatever department this is.

I know it isn’t dating. We-no-I don’t have feelings for Jude. He absolutely doesn’t have feelings for me. The idea is laughable. I’m the head conductor of the hot-mess express, and he’s just so regimented and normal.

It also feels weird to be going to dinner with my pseudo-boss.

I can only deduce that Jude is a nice guy, possibly the nicest guy I’ve ever met besides the whole grumpy-ass act, and he’s being a decent person by taking me out for a meal.

As he accurately pointed out, I’ve been cooped up too long. After the way my thoughts spiraled yesterday, I’m inclined to agree with him.

The problem is now I don’t know what to do with my hands. My fingers are numb from rubbing them together so hard.

“What do you want to drink?” Jude’s voice breaks through my turbulent thoughts.

“Can I have a virgin margarita, please?”

Jude nods his head to the bartender. The old guy wearing a bandana smiles, showcasing a few teeth missing. He grabs a couple of glasses and walks off.

“You can have a drink.” Jude licks a drop of water from his lip and sets his glass back on the coaster.

“I don’t drink alcohol.”

He tenses in his stool. I fight the urge to bump his knee with mine just to make sure he’s still breathing. After several quiet moments, he leans back.

“Is this a bad place for you to be?”

Something shifts inside at his reaction to my confession. “I’m used to the small-town dining options. Back home, nearly every good burger joint is a bar. I don’t have a problem or anything. Watching my parents drink away my childhood has kept me far away from the stuff.”

He rests his forearm on his knee, turning his stool slightly toward me. “Does it bother you if I have a beer?”

“Not at all.”

He nods once before looking away. “If it becomes a problem, you let me know.”

My fingers drift near his knee before I catch myself and let them fall to my lap. “I will, but it won’t. On the other hand, if anyone around here needs a designated driver, I’m your girl.”

“Don’t let my sisters hear that. They already want to drag you into their shenanigans, and that’ll only give them one more reason to.”

“Are you trying to protect me from your family?” I ask a little incredulously. They all were so welcoming last weekend, I can’t imagine I need a buffer from any of them.

“The girls can be a little overzealous. I thought I’d let you go at your own pace.”

“Well, they’re welcome to reach out. Like you said yesterday, I spend all my time at the Sanctuary even though I’m not really working.” I nudge him with my shoulder. The warmth from his arm remains even after I pull away.

The little half smile he gives in response flutters my heart.

“I’ll let them know. Don’t be surprised if you see a few of them while we’re here. This tends to be the hangout spot when any of us gets a night out.”

The bartender sets down our drinks. He pulls a white towel from his shoulder and wipes his hands. “You two eating tonight?”

“Yeah. Bobby, can you get her a menu?”

“That’s fine.” I wave my hand. “I’ll take a quarter pound burger on whatever bun you have, cheddar cheese, bacon, ketchup, and pickles.”

“You got it, darlin’. Fries okay?”

“Want to split them?” I ask Jude.

He pats his flat stomach. “I think I’d prefer a double serving rather than half. I’m hungry.”

“How about I give you half of mine, and you can have one and a half?”

“Give her a side of fries, and I’ll have the same,” he tells the bartender instead.

“I’ll have that out shortly.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Jude says.

A hasty sip of my cold drink washes away some of my trepidation. If only I didn’t find him so confusing, I might be able to relax.

Jude nurses his beer, and a silence stretches between us. I think the ground opening up and swallowing me whole would be less awkward than sitting here floundering for something to say. If only I had a sketch pad and pencil, I could draw something to soothe my frazzled nerves.

I slip a napkin out of the plastic holder on the bar and begin to twist the weak paper in my hands. Once I’ve forced the flimsy material into a battered rose, I look up, only to catch Jude staring at me from the corner of his eye.

“You good?”

His quiet nature throws me off balance. “I’m a talker. A silence filler. The absence of conversation makes my skin feel too tight. It reminds me of quiet nights lying awake when I strained to hear the sound of my parents’ breathing to make sure they were still alive.”

His eyes widen, and his nostrils flare.

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I seem to remember you like to blabber when nervous.”

“I can’t help it. Silence is uncomfortable. That’s why therapists deploy the tactic to get their clients talking.”

“Have you been in therapy?” His question isn’t as invasive as it sounds. It feels like a natural progression in the conversation.

“No. Couldn’t afford it. Have you?”

Jude nods tightly, a quick affirmative bob of his head. “For a short time after I came to live with the Powells. Nancy required it.”

“I bet you could fill an entire session without saying a single word.”

His warm hand covers both of mine where I clutch the mangled napkin, and suddenly, I forget how to breathe.

“Relax.”

His fingers twitch where they conceal mine. I swear he brushes his pinky across the back of my knuckles.

Yeah, as if that helps things any.

“I think I’m going to run to the restroom before the food gets here.”

Jude sharply withdraws his hand as if he forgot we were still touching and gestures toward the back. “That way.”

His coarse tone abrades my skin, sending a delicious tingle up my spine. Something about a man with grit in his voice just seems to get me going. Not that I have much experience with getting going, at least outside of my fantasies.

I hop off my stool and roll my shoulders before crossing the room. The restaurant is familiar in a cozy way. I could name three bars in my hometown with a similar feel. The wall of liquor behind the rugged bartender who knows everyone’s names. The regulars, who act like their stool has been imprinted with their ass. A few booths and tables, a pool table or dart board. Some room to dance or sing karaoke. Dark wood, dim lighting, and an industrial ceiling complete the look.

The only thing that ever changes is who’s currently occupying the picture frames plastering the walls.

I swing open a heavy wooden door to reveal a single-occupant restroom and dart inside.

Hiding in the bathroom feels cliché so I make quick work and wash my hands. The few moments away offer a much-needed reprieve from Jude and his large presence and thoughtful glances and lingering silences.

For not the first time, I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.

The upbeat dance music grows louder as I step back into the hall. I weave around two women waiting for the restroom. There are more people here than I realized. Jude and I occupy a relatively intimate corner of the bar. The tables behind us are full with patrons enjoying a Friday night out.

As my eyes adjust back to the dim bar lighting, I see someone I didn’t expect to see in this small town. Someone I definitely didn’t expect to see again so soon.

Dillon stands beside a four-top table, a sheet of paper fluttering in his hand as he talks. The muscles on either side of my neck tense at the mere sight of him, and a dull throb begins in my head.

He came back for me.

That doesn’t feel right. He didn’t come back for me. That’s how I wound up staying at Jude’s in the first place.

Right?

I lick my suddenly dry lips.

Dillon frowns and shakes his head. The man at the table says something to him. Dillon glances casually around, his head turning right and left, before he does a double take and his eyes widen.

He’s found me.

My pulse pounds chaotically as he excuses himself from the table. His lengthy strides eat up the distance between us at a cautious but direct pace. His intention is clear, but he seems to be holding himself back.

I feel rooted to the spot. Muddled feelings rise up inside me. Fear and confusion take hold, a storm brewing that no one can feel but me. Something doesn’t feel right. Something feels… off. Unease slithers up my spine the closer he comes.

Not remembering what happened in that car has me more skittish than a rabbit in the presence of a predator. Instincts begin blaring this isn’t someone I can trust, and I start searching for Jude through the sea of people.

“Frankie, there you are,” Dillon greets warmly when he’s within speaking distance. He stops near enough to appear familiar but too close for comfort, and his eyes flick down to my cast.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” The words are measured. A thread of uncertainty underlines his tone.

“It’s been two weeks.”

“You weren’t easy to find.”

He flutters the paper between us as he turns it to face me. A black-and-white picture of me appears in a social media post beneath a bold headline.

Have you seen this woman?

Humiliation paints my cheeks a deep red. “Might as well have slapped my face on the side of a milk carton. Who does that?”

He raises a sardonic brow. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“You just happened to find me in this bar?”

“I’ve been in town for the past three days after getting tipped off by some guy named Lonnie. Staying in a motel while I asked around. Funny that nobody seems to know who you are. What have you been doing for the last two weeks, Frankie?” His torso dips toward me.

I lean back. “That’s none of your business. Did you finish your… trip?”

His eyebrows raise as he appraises me. Did he notice my hesitation?

“I did. Dropped off our stuff at the new apartment before I came back.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “People have been worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Clasping my hands to my elbows does little to stem their shake. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” He inches closer.

Lie, lie, lie.

“With what phone?” I bite out. “I didn’t have any of my stuff. It’s not like I have your number memorized.”

“I checked with your parents. You haven’t called them either.”

“Why would I? I can’t remember the last time I sought their help.”

“So you were planning on what, just staying here forever?”

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” The attempt to keep him at a distance has me dizzy. I need him gone. “Since I only had myself to rely on, I found a place to stay. I even have a job.”

“You found a job? You already have a job in California.”

“Things changed.”

“You’re going to throw it away over a little fight?”

Pieces of information collect like raindrops in my hand.

I have a job somewhere.

We had a fight.

Those two fragments are new to me. New yet not very helpful.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, so you can leave.”

“Why would I leave without my fiancée?” He spits it out like a dirty word. Memories or not, no love emanates from this man. A frisson of fear bursts beneath my skin.

“I’m not your anything, Dillon. Not anymore.”

He laughs angrily. “You don’t just get to decide that by yourself. We were starting a life together.”

“Maybe we were, but that’s over now. I’m starting a life here.” I stab my finger toward the sticky ground I stand on. “You were right. We both needed a fresh start. It’s just that those new beginnings don’t involve each other.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He rubs his hand over his messy red hair. The loose waves bounce beneath his irritated strokes. “We had plans.”

“So make new ones. I have. In fact, someone’s waiting for me right now.”

“Who?” he barks, and I move a reactive step back.

“M-my boyfriend,” I blurt.

Oh God.

If he wasn’t being such a shitty person, I wouldn’t be one back. Truly. I never set out to hurt him. But I have to trust my gut since I can’t remember, and right now, my gut screams at me to push him as far away as I possibly can.

Even if that means lying about the man waiting for me across the room who probably wouldn’t be caught dead being romantic with me.

He snorts in disbelief. “Yeah, right. You’re telling me in the past two weeks you not only found a job but also a new boyfriend?”

“I don’t owe you a single explanation.”

“I think you do.”

“Maybe you should tell me why it took you two weeks to track me down. If you can tell me why you dropped me off on the side of the road and didn’t come back for me right away, I’ll consider going back with you.”

His eyes glitter, and my stomach drops.

Oh fuck. I said the wrong thing, didn’t I?

I run through the last minute of conversation in my head. What did I say to give him the upper hand?

He’s looking at me like he’s holding the winning poker hand, and he knows it.

If you can tell me why you dropped me off on the side of the road…

My posture deflates a little as I realize my mistake. Why did I say it like that? I can’t go back now. I can’t give him anything else that might hint I don’t remember what happened.

The change in his demeanor is instant. The tense air ripples between us. “I’m sorry, okay? We can put this behind us. I fucked up, but if you give me another chance, I can prove to you just how good we can be. Let me remind you,” he cajoles.

“Goodbye, Dillon.”

“Don’t walk away from me.” His tight fingers close hotly on my wrist.

I yank my arm from his grasp and move two steps away. “I said goodbye. Take it or leave it, but it’s more than you deserve.”

With as much confidence as I can muster, I leave him standing in the back of the room.

I’m a woman on a mission that I’m not about to fail.