26. Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
P eople are going to notice.
The lady in the aisle over there, she definitely noticed. Is that old man staring? The Kohl’s employee was totally staring as she restocked the rack.
Carson tugged on her sleeves, trying to pull them down further. Which was useless because they stopped just below her elbow. Short enough to show five scars—she’d counted them over and over until she was blue in the face. They felt like beacons for everyone in the store. She might as well have taken her shirt off, stood on the checkout counter, and yelled, “Hey everyone! Look at me and what I’ve done to my body.”
Standing in the middle of the baby section of Kohl’s, one of the few department stores in the area, Raegan grabbed Carson’s hand and pulled it from her sleeve. “Nobody is looking,” she said. “I promise you. And even if they did look, who cares? It’s part of your life.”
It was Carson’s first public appearance wearing something other than sleeves that reached her wrists. Now that she had told her friends about her self-harm, Dave had challenged Carson to be comfortable in her own body. Which didn’t make a lot of sense, since her body was what had started this whole self-harming thing in the first place. However, she made a promise to herself to take those small tedious steps to recovery .
Today’s step was exposing her mangled skin to the public, but not in a tank top or short-sleeve shirt. Not yet. Thankfully, summer was far enough away for Carson to build up the courage to wear that kind of apparel . . . maybe. Today, she was taking Dave’s challenge with three-quarter sleeves.
Small steps .
Carson took in three deep breaths, then started chewing her wad of gum, even though all the flavor was gone. “You’re right. It’s just so awkward and humiliating all at the same time.”
“I can only imagine,” Raegan sympathized, before picking up a maroon baby dress full of ruffles and sequins. “But I have never been more proud to be your friend.”
Afraid that she would start bawling if she spoke and make an even bigger beacon of herself, Carson smiled, grateful for the unconditional support from her friend. Raegan smiled too before returning her attention to the red dress. Carson caught sight of a tiny pair of denim overalls and began admiring them when her phone buzzed. She tossed the overalls into the black mesh basket and grabbed her phone.
“Who are you texting?” Raegan asked.
“Will.”
“Will?”
Carson finished her response and hit send before moving onto another rack of baby apparel. “We met at that legal convention I went to last year, remember?” she explained. “He’s the lawyer out of California. He’s back in town and wants to visit tonight. I thought I told you about him?”
Raegan leaned on the display next to her and put a hand on her stomach. Even though she wasn’t showing yet, Carson understood the natural instinct to cradle, even when the baby was the size of a bagel bite.
“Isn’t this the same guy that asked you out?” she asked, recalling their conversation from Hunter’s birthday party.
Carson rolled her eyes. “Yes, but we’re just meeting up as friends.”
Raegan sniffed, then said, “Have you spoken to Jax lately?”
“No.” She frowned. Really it felt like her whole body frowned.
“I heard he got promoted to captain.”
“Really?” Carson said. “I knew the position was opening up. I’m happy he took it.”
Raegan pushed off the display and started fingering through a rack of onesies. “Make sure you text me about your”—she formed air quotes with her fingers—“ non-date tonight.”
The horse skull’s glowing green eyes stared menacingly down at Carson from above the bar entrance. She wasn’t sure if the skull was meant to be rugged and bold, like the thousands of cowboys that had passed underneath it, or scary and intimidating. Maybe it was guarding the entrance to the bar.
Standing—more like shivering, it was so damn cold—outside Mustang Saloon in the dark, she waited for Will. Smoke-filled bars with sloshing alcohol and pulsing music were no longer her scene, but Will had wanted the authentic Prescott experience.
Pulling up her scarf to cover her nose, Carson nestled into the crocheted yarn. One more minute and she’d wait for him inside.
“Carson!”
Will was walking up the sidewalk, avoiding a group of tourists fervently photographing the famous Whiskey Row. He looked so out of place wearing a woolen trench coat, striped scarf, and were those leather gloves? His shoes were too shiny for the desert, missing dirt and goatheads stuck to the bottom. They would have been more appropriate in the streets of New York, not a small rodeo town. When he got closer, Carson recognized the smell of flowers, maybe peonies. It was stronger than the last time she saw him. It was dainty, and nothing like the way Jax smelled.
“You made it,” Carson said, relieved that she could now get out of the cold.
“Just barely,” he huffed. “I couldn’t find a parking spot.”
“Even in the parking garage?”
“There’s a parking garage?”
Carson pointed at the bar behind her. “It’s just on the other side.”
“Of course there’s a parking garage,” Will muttered.
Leading the way, Carson pushed open the heavy wooden doors. Her nose crinkled at the bitter smell of alcohol, and she choked down a gag. Lights danced and swirled like the few folks who were swinging to the raucous, thumping music. Why bars played music so loud that guests couldn’t hear themselves think, Carson would never understand. The bartender didn’t seem to have a problem with the music’s volume as they ordered their drinks and chose one of the tall tables near the bar.
“Why do they call it Whiskey Row?” Will asked after taking a long pull from his mug.
“Huh?” The music, the buzzing conversations, the clinking of glasses. All too loud.
He repeated himself.
“Oh. I guess back in the early nineteen hundreds, a fire burned down a majority of the buildings. They rebuilt it with a bunch of bars, and, I think, at one point there were about forty saloons,” Carson explained, pulling off her jacket and scarf. Her sleeves were long and safe. Nobody on this planet could persuade her to show her scars in front of Will.
“That seems excessive,” he said.
She lifted her Shirley Temple. “Welcome to the wild west.” Then she added, “You could say downtown Prescott is cursed. Fires are always happening here.”
Will took another drink while his eyes raked over the bar. Something caught Carson’s eye in the corner. A large Maltese cross was printed on the back of someone’s shirt. She squinted in the dim lighting. The guy standing next to the shirt looked familiar. Had she seen him before?
Shaking her head, she sipped her soda and asked, “What brings you into Prescott?”
“I took a job in Scottsdale and moved in last weekend.”
“Really? What firm?”
“Caddel & Madden. Do you know about them?”
“No, but there are a ton of firms in the Phoenix area . . .” Her voice trailed off as a shorter man with a mustache walked through the entrance. He looked an awful lot like Tim, Jax’s old captain. She cleared her throat. “How do you like Arizona so far?”
“The Phoenix area reminds me of California, but here”—Will’s eyes darted once again around the saloon—“is nothing like L.A.”
“It’s definitely a unique place,” she agreed.
The song booming in the air switched from a new, upbeat tune to an old classic. Around them there were grunts of approval as the twang of Toby Keith floated about the bar.
“What about you? Did you ever become junior partner?”
Sagging into her chair, Carson chewed on her lip before speaking. “Not yet, but I’m doing a mentorship with my boss.” Her finger touched the droplet of condensation on her glass before it could reach the tabletop.
“You don’t seem too excited about that.”
“I am,” she said, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “It wasn’t what I’d originally planned.” More like the last five years hadn’t been what she’d planned. “I’m not complaining, though. My boss could have turned me down. He has me working on a family law case, which I’ve never done before.”
“Family law is rough,” Will said, shuddering. “ I’d rather stick with criminal.”
Carson thought about how awful Jax’s divorce case with Kristen had been for him. In fact, when she eventually opened her own practice, she was seriously considering focusing only on family law. Because, who else would fight for people like Jax in the courtroom?
“I actually have my first trial in two weeks,” she informed him.
“Wow. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She’d take all the luck she could get, though she was confident she was going to do well. Even her client, Jacob, was looking forward to the trial.
The song ended with a few plucks of a banjo, followed by a commotion on the stage in the far back. A live band had just finished setting up, and they began strumming guitars and pounding on a drum kit. Carson could feel the beat reverberate in her bones. More people congregated toward the middle of the saloon to dance.
“Please tell me they’re going to line dance,” Will prayed, eyeing the crowd excitedly.
“Would you expect anything less?” Carson asked, amused at Will’s reaction to the saloon’s atmosphere.
Sure enough, like a well-choreographed performance, men and women lined up and started to kick their boot-covered feet in rhythm, thumbs hooked in their belt loops and all. For a second, Carson thought Will was going to get up and join them.
“How’s your boyfriend doing?” Will asked, tapping his finger to the beat of the music.
Choking on a sip of soda, the carbonation burning her nostrils, Carson coughed and cleared her throat, trying to regain control.
“Sorry, he’s, uh, he’s doing well. Just got a promotion at work,” she finally shouted back, the live music banging around them. Perfect answer. Perfect recovery. She didn’t have to confirm or deny if they were still dating, and she didn’t have to fib. It was a win-win.
“What does he do?”
“He’s a firefighter for the City of Prescott.” Speaking of firefighters, there was a group of guys playing darts all wearing the Prescott’s fire department emblem on the back of their shirts.
Will tapped a finger against his glass, pulling his attention away from the dancers to her. “So, he’s buff,” he joked.
She let out a laugh, and Will grinned, flashing his perfectly straight and very white teeth. But Carson’s laughter stopped when she spotted someone walking through the front entrance. They locked eyes. The lights stopped flashing. The music died on the last note. Finally, it was quiet.
Jax looked at Will—who was still smiling at her—and back to Carson. His face wore shock, then a flash of anger, and finally disappointment. He pivoted and left.
Like a tidal wave, the next song blasted from the speakers, the lights continued to race across the room, and the conversations and dancing went on.
Carson tumbled off the stool, nearly knocking it over .
“Can you give me a minute? I’ll be right back,” she stammered, not bothering to wait for Will’s response. Though she doubted he cared because he was still fixated on the line-dancers. She darted between the patrons and flew through the front doors.
Once outside, she spun, her eyes scanning every face, every person she could see. The dark of the night making it difficult. Finally, she spotted a familiar sweatshirt, familiar because she had worn it before, and took off running, grateful the sidewalks were clear of ice.
“Jax!”
When she was only a few feet from Jax, he turned around, causing her to almost smack into him.
“What?” he spat.
It was impossible to blame him for being upset. If she’d seen him laughing with another woman at a bar, she’d be too.
“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” Carson wheezed, breathless. “He’s another attorney who just moved here. He wanted to visit Prescott.”
Ignoring Jax’s glare, she studied his beautiful eyes, which were dark and sunken. Even his midnight hair seemed more unruly than she remembered it, wild as if he had just been in a haboob.
“How have you been?” she asked.
He let out a sigh. “I’ve been better.”
“No thanks to me.”
“I mean, you did break my heart,” Jax teased, giving her a knowing smirk.
“I don’t blame you if you hate me,” Carson murmured, but glad that he could at least joke about their split.
Raking a hand through his hair, he then slid it down his face. “I could never hate you, Carson. ”
At the sound of her name on his lips, her heart faltered. She continued anyway, “Yes, but you have every right to hate me. There are not enough sorrys in the world to forgive what I did to you. Please know that I truly am sorry. At the very least understand that I had my reasons. I did it because I love you.” Her tongue twisted and froze. Would he notice her use of present tense?
There was the tiniest glimmer in his eyes. He had noticed. Then he focused on the courthouse across the street. Christmas lights were still twinkling in the surrounding trees, like floating colorful lightning bugs. The city would soon be taking them down.
In her haste, Carson had forgotten to grab her jacket. The night air was freezing her skin, although the feeling was preferable to the stale smell of beer in the bar. Her fingers were going numb, so she shoved them in her jeans pocket and fidgeted with a piece of lint.
“Believe it or not, I do understand your reasons,” Jax said. “That doesn’t mean I agree with them. But I can understand why you ended us. I just hope that one day you’ll realize how wrong you were.”
Little did he know Carson was already processing her mistakes.
A car in the parking spot in front of them pulled out, and a new one took its place. A group of middle-aged women stepped out laughing and shouting at one another. Ridiculously large foam cowboy hats sat upon their heads. Carson hoped they weren’t going into Mustang Saloon. She was in no mood to listen to woo girls.
“How’s your family doing?” she asked, hoping to steal a few more minutes with Jax.
“Doing fine.” He leaned against the two-hour parking sign they stood next to. “Except Beau.”
“What happened to Beau? ”
“I think he took our breakup harder than us. He really liked you.”
A huge grin pulled her lips up, and she rolled her eyes. “Well, you tell your brother I really liked him, and tell your family I say hello.”
“I will.” Pushing off the metal pole Jax straightened. “So, just another attorney, huh?” he ribbed, sounding like Raegan.
“I promise.”
“Good,” he said. “I was afraid I didn’t make enough of an impression on you, if you could move on so quickly.”
Cocking her head toward the bar, Carson said, “Yeah, well I better get back before he comes looking.”
Jax nodded in understanding. “It was good seeing you.”
“You too.”
“Maybe we can catch up one day,” he suggested.
“I’d like that,” she said, hope filling her body. Maybe, just maybe, there could be another chance with Jax.