Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
COLE
When Jules shows up that evening, she looks around in alarm. "Where’s Sophie?"
I glance back into the tumbler I’m swirling the amber whiskey in. "In her room."
"Why?"
"Stop getting on my nerves," I grumble, emptying the glass in one gulp when I realize the whiskey is almost the same damn color as Sophie’s eyes.
The moment we got home, she barricaded herself in the small room and ignored me. She’s pissed; I get that. After all, I’m not stupid. I even understand her to a certain extent, but I can’t take that dog just because she wants me to. I mean… who am I? Mother Teresa? Fuck no.
So when we got back, I made myself a drink to calm down and relax. It didn’t help that I kept seeing Sophie’s sad and disappointed face, but since the third whiskey, it’s a little more bearable. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. But in fact, my thoughts have only gotten more confused.
"What have you screwed up with now?" Jules’s voice is accusatory, which sends my mood plummeting further.
I lift my head and look at her angrily. "Why do you automatically assume I did something?"
Jules tilts her head and raises an eyebrow.
Defeated, I groan. "We went to the vet clinic. She wants me to take that damn dog."
"Rightly so."
"Are you for real? Are you both conspiring against me now? If so, you’re welcome to join her," I reply gruffly and reach for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
"Stop drinking," she snaps and walks to the door I’ve been staring at helplessly for the past two hours. Tentatively, she knocks. "Sophie? Can I come in?"
Seconds later, the door opens, and Jules slips through, closing it again behind her.
"Ah, fuck you," I murmur softly, taking a hearty swig straight from the bottle.
For a second, I consider asking Steve if there’s a fight tonight, but then decide against it. The past night was enough for me. In addition, I’d been drinking, so I couldn’t drive anyway.
Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and force myself to think of nothing for just a moment.
I must have dozed off, which is no wonder, given the past forty-eight hours, the far too short night, and the damn whiskey. When I open my eyes and sit up straight, the muscles in my neck are as hard as rocks because I fell asleep sitting upright.
Cursing, I get up and rub the aching spot while I go to the fridge to get a bottle of water. After I have emptied it halfway, I look around.
Neither Sophie nor Jules is to be seen, so I go to Jules’s old room. When I knock on the door, it simply gives way. It’s only ajar, and when I push it open, I find the room empty.
"Jules?" I call out and turn. "Where the fuck are you?"
The bathroom door opens, and Jules comes out, wearing hot pants, a crop top, and tons of makeup.
Knowing exactly what’s about to come, I begin to shake my head before she can even say it. "Absolutely not. Don’t even think about it."
"Oh yes," she declares energetically. "We’re going out."
"Jules… what the fuck?" I rub my temples because my skull is suddenly pounding.
How could I have lived with her for so long? I really don’t know, but her voice doesn’t give me the opportunity to think about it any further.
"Come on, Cole. We’re young, it’s Saturday night, and Sophie’s never been out," she says, sounding a little softer.
"She’s not even of age."
"So what? As if that would bother anyone in the pub."
I fall back down on the couch and reach for my cigarettes. "Does she even know what you’re up to?"
"What do you think of me? Of course she knows," Jules states impatiently. "Right, Sophie?" She turns around, but there’s no one there. "Sophie?"
"Maybe I should wear something else," she says from the bathroom.
Ah, fuck. I have a bad feeling about this.
Jules takes a few steps back and stops in the open doorway, where she makes a prompting gesture with her hands. "Nonsense. You look great. Let’s go! Get your ass out there, girl!"
"Jules, this is a fucking—"
"Shh!" she hisses in my direction before disappearing into the bathroom and saying something to Sophie that I don’t understand.
I let my head sink into my hands and close my eyes.
Going out with Jules and Sophie? Not even a herd of wild horses could drag me to this. I’m completely whacked. Besides, a pub is the last place Sophie should be right now. I don’t care if I’m the killjoy, but she’s not going out partying on her third night. That’s going too far.
The girls’ soft voices drift through the open bathroom door before I hear steps. Opening my eyes, I lift my head to tell Jules to forget about that lousy idea, but as soon as my gaze lands on Sophie, who has finally left the bathroom, the words get stuck in my throat.
She’s wearing a simple skintight black dress that ends just above her knees.
Jules has styled her hair into large, loose waves that fall forward over Sophie’s shoulder, and she’s gone all out on her face.
The eyes are dark-rimmed, and the already plump lips look even fuller thanks to the rich red Jules has painted them with.
Sophie looks absolutely stunning.
"Turn around," Jules demands proudly.
She does so immediately.
"So?" Jules asks, glancing at me as soon as Sophie has finished her turn, and places her hands on her hips. "What do you say?"
Sophie chews on her bottom lip while kneading her fingers. She seems nervous, and when I don’t say anything because I’m at a loss for words, she lowers her eyes and slumps her shoulders.
"I told you it didn’t suit me," she mutters in Jules’s direction, giving her a pained look.
Jules shakes her head. "It looks great on you. He’s just a moron." Then she grabs Sophie’s hand and gives me a withering look. "Come on. Let’s go."
"You’re not going anywhere," I object as I regain mastery of my tongue and stand.
"Can we just fast-forward to the part where you’re done with your bullshit speech, buckle down, and come with us?" Jules gives me an annoyed look as Sophie pulls on a pair of Doc Martens, looking up at me with indecision.
"I—"
"Cole, please."
I look from Sophie to Jules and back again.
They’ll go without me. I know that because I know Jules.
And she knows that I will eventually give in because under no circumstances will I let them go off on their own if there’s any way to avoid it.
Especially not when they look like that.
There are too many assholes out there who would see them as an invitation.
"Fine," I say while hoping I won’t regret my decision. "But you have to stay sober. I can’t drive anymore."
Jules grins broadly, lets go of Sophie’s hand, and runs toward me. Then she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek. "You’re the best!"
The small pub is packed. The air is stuffy, the music horrible, and the guests half too young, half too old. It takes me exactly five seconds to remember why I haven’t gone out in years.
I hate being around people. Especially happy people.
Jules, on the other hand, loves it, and I realize that my solitude over the past few years has not only affected my life but hers as well.
I don’t know when the last time was that I saw her so excited and euphoric, and the guilt from this realization makes me want to punch myself in the face.
I should have given her more space. That’s probably also the reason she moved out.
I looked after her too much and didn’t notice that she’d grown up.
But after I found her freezing and half-starved on the street six years ago and took her under my wing, I guarded her like the apple of my eye.
And it is not easy to give that up. She has never blamed me for it, but I’m afraid it’s because I simply haven’t been myself for the past three years.
While Jules takes Sophie’s hand to pull her to the jukebox, I head to the bar and claim one of the last free stools. After the bartender has served me my drink, I light a cigarette and turn around again.
In the meantime, the girls have made their way to the small dance floor, where the first brave ones are already swaying back and forth.
Jules starts to move to the beat as well, while Sophie stands there a bit uncertainly and looks around with wide eyes.
Then Jules leans forward to whisper something in her ear and reach for her hands.
Sophie laughs and blushes slightly before closing her eyes and slowly swaying to the music.
It’s not actual dancing, but I can still tell that she seems to enjoy it because her smile gets wider by the second.
I still haven’t gotten around to learning more about her previous life.
But as I watch her loosen up and eventually open her eyes to move more freely, I decide that I don’t have to.
Of all people, I should know that the past already has enough damn power over us because it is just that: our past. So why poke around in it and open up old wounds when life is complicated enough as it is?
No. I won’t ask Sophie why things are the way they are. She deserves to be allowed to live the life she so desperately wants to experience. And fuck, if that includes dancing in a pub despite being only seventeen, then so be it.