Chapter Thirteen
Jules
I’m meeting Trey at this trendy little spot in the next town over. He picked the place this time. Smart move. No chance of Corbin and Tate randomly showing up and throwing me completely off my game.
I still can’t believe they accidentally crashed our first date. And I still can’t believe Trey invited them to eat with us. But dwelling on it won’t change anything. This is a second date. A fresh start. A chance to focus on Trey—on who he is, what he likes, and, more importantly, if I like him.
I think I do.
It’s just hard.
All I’ve ever really known is Corbin.
He was my first love, my first everything.
Sure, I kissed a few guys before him, but Corbin was the one who mattered.
The one who changed everything. First guy to tell me he loved me.
First man who ever saw me naked. First time.
First vacation. First engagement. First marriage.
He was the person I learned everything with.
And then he was the first person to break me.
To shatter my heart after holding it so carefully for so long.
Maybe that’s why I can’t get him out of my head.
He’s safe and familiar. Predictable even.
And that’s why I always go back to him.
But I can’t keep doing that.
I have to figure out my life without him at the center of it. Without him being the one I always circle back to.
Even if every part of me still wants to.
I shove my phone into my purse as I step through the door.
A wall of techno music slams into me, throbbing through my bones.
The place is a sensory overload. Neon signs pulse against dark walls, the glow of blue light casting everything in an almost dreamlike haze.
Clear tables and chairs gleam under flashing strobes.
Laughter and shouting blend with the pounding bass.
This is definitely not a place Corbin would ever set foot in.
Too loud. Too bright. Too chaotic.
Corbin likes his neat, tidy life. Everything in its place. Everything under control.
Stop thinking about Corbin, Jules.
A voice calls out over the music, and I glance left, spotting Trey behind a DJ booth. He grins when he sees me, yanking off his headphones before jogging over.
“You made it!” he says, pulling me into a hug.
He smells spicy—cinnamon and pepper. It’s different. Bold. Maybe even too much. I want to like it. I really do. But it’s overpowering, and I force a smile.
“I didn’t know you DJ’d,” I say, trying to focus on him instead of how out of place I feel.
He hitches a shoulder, smirking. “I’m full of surprises, Jules.”
That he is.
“You want a drink?” he asks, nodding toward the bar.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Without warning, his arm drapes over my shoulders, steering me through the crowd like we’ve done this a thousand times before.
The dance floor is packed. People laughing, bodies pressed together, drinks sloshing over the rims of their glasses.
The whole place radiates energy, a pulse I should want to get lost in.
But I don’t.
I feel like a spectator instead of a participant. Like I’m standing at the edge of something I’m supposed to want but can’t quite step into.
And the worst part?
I know exactly why.
Chaos is a full coffee shop and not enough hands to make drinks in a reasonable time.
This?
This is something else entirely.
The flashing lights, the deep pulse of bass vibrating through my ribs, the sheer volume of it all. It’s too much. Not in a bad way. Just… in a way that makes me feel like I’ve stumbled into someone else’s world, and I’m not sure I belong here.
“What would you like?” Trey asks, leaning closer to be heard over the music.
Something strong. Something to take the edge off.
“Something fruity,” I tell the bartender. “Surprise me.”
Trey grins like I just told him his favorite secret. “You’re something else, you know that?”
I swallow hard, not sure how to respond, so I just offer a small smile.
The bartender slides a drink across the counter, a deep red concoction with a tiny umbrella sticking out of it. I take a sip, the taste of rum and berries coating my tongue, sweet with a kick underneath.
“You ever been in a DJ booth before?” Trey asks as soon as I lower my glass.
I shake my head. “No, never.”
“Come on, then,” he quips, motioning for me to follow.
We weave our way through the crowd, Trey leading with an easy confidence, while I navigate carefully, making sure not to spill my drink. I really want to take another sip to calm my nerves, but I hold off as we reach the booth.
A guy with shaggy blond hair and a backward cap glances up from the soundboard.
“Colt, this is Jules,” Trey introduces.
Colt grins, handing me a pair of headphones. “You ready to jam?”
My eyes widen. “Yes?”
Trey laughs. “Don’t sound so scared, Jules.”
I take a quick sip of my drink, gathering myself before handing it over to Trey. Then, I take the headphones from Colt, slipping them on. He motions for me to leave one ear uncovered.
“Alright,” Colt says, flipping a few switches, “you want to keep the beat going. Smooth transitions. Keep the energy up.”
I have no idea what I’m doing, but I follow along as he walks me through it. What buttons to touch, how the turntable works, when to shift the tempo. It’s interesting in a way, like painting with sound instead of color. But it doesn’t spark anything in me. Not the way a brush in my hand used to.
After a while, Trey leans in close. “Wanna dance?”
I hesitate for half a second before handing the headphones back to Colt.
Trey grabs my hand, tugging me toward the dance floor.
And I let him.
I want to let him.
Maybe if I let go enough, I’ll finally feel something real.
Trey’s hands find my waist, tugging me closer. My shoulders stiffen instinctively, but I force myself to relax. This is just a dance. It’s not life-changing. It’s not permanent. It’s not like the tattoo he gave me a few days ago, inked into my skin forever.
His body moves against mine, slow and steady, keeping time with whatever deep bass Colt has thumping through the speakers.
“Relax, Jules,” Trey coaxes in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. I nod and let my hands slip around his neck, my fingers brushing against the hair at his nape.
I want to relax.
I want to feel something.
But it’s just…
When I met Corbin, I knew . I knew down to my bones that I would go to the ends of the earth for him.
That I would shape myself into whatever he needed— wanted —even though he never asked me to.
I gave up pieces of myself without thinking, without hesitation.
Because it wasn’t sacrifice if it was him .
With Trey, it’s fun. It’s new. But it lacks something. Depth, maybe? I can’t quite put my finger on it. And maybe that’s the problem. If I have to look for something, it’s probably not there.
Am I even really giving him a chance?
Or am I just fooling myself, pretending I can push Corbin out of my system when he’s already worked his way into every quiet second of my days?
Ever since I had that stupid taste flashback—his mouth on my skin, his voice murmuring things I shouldn’t still crave—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.
Which is annoying , to say the least.
I just… the night I spent in his bed. I want to know if it was as electric to him as it was to me. If his skin still hums with the memory of it like mine does.
But Tate .
I can’t do this to him.
I can’t keep wrestling between what I think I want and what I know will only hurt us again.
Corbin is sexy and familiar. The man who stole most of my firsts. But I can’t keep thinking about him like that. He’s my past. He’s part of my present .
But my future?
That belongs to me .
And I have to try.
I have to put effort into this thing with Trey. I have to at least figure out if I’m still hung up on one night with Corbin… or if Trey and I just aren’t a good fit.
I close my eyes and clear my head. Don’t think. Just feel.
I focus on Trey’s hands at my waist, slipping just a little lower now that he notices my body relaxing against him. My fingers drift along the back of his neck, feeling the smooth, warm skin beneath them. He’s a little taller than me, lanky but still solid. His hold is steady. Safe.
His cologne is still too strong—sharp cinnamon and pepper cutting through the thick, muggy air of the dance floor.
Bodies press close, the room gyrating with the music, with laughter, with life.
I lean into it, forcing myself to ignore the knot in my stomach.
The one that whispers, this will never work. We will never work.
“Are you having fun?” Trey murmurs into my ear, his voice quieter now, softer.
“Yes,” I lie, resting my head on his shoulder.
A moment passes before he speaks again. “You look great tonight.”
I lift my head, glancing up. His green eyes are locked on me, searching.
Kiss me, I hear myself say.
The corner of Trey’s mouth tips up. “I like a girl who knows what she wants.”
Then, he cups my cheek, tilting my face up as his lips brush over mine. It’s soft at first. Tentative. A slow tease, just a whisper of warmth against my mouth. Then he deepens it, his hand sliding lower, fingers squeezing my ass.
This is fine.
This is good.
Just let yourself feel.
But the second his tongue slides along my lower lip before plunging into my mouth, my body tenses. A wall slams up—fast, instinctual, immovable.
I push past it. Try to push past it.
Try to want this.
Try to want him.
But it’s too much. Sloppy and overwhelming.
And in that moment, I know.
This isn’t just hesitation.
It’s the final nail in the coffin.
I pull away abruptly, pressing my lips together as I wipe the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. Trey’s hands are still on me, but the moment he sees my face, he lets go.
“That bad, huh?” he says with a chuckle, though there’s something a little hesitant behind his smile. He knows.
I let out a slow breath and force a small smile. “It’s not that. You’re… great.”
Trey tilts his head, waiting for the but .
“But,” I continue, “I thought I wanted this. I really did. But I think I’m just… not ready.”
It’s not a lie. I slept with my ex-husband then rushed into dating because Sarge thought it’s what I needed.
I’m not ready.
And I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever be ready for anyone who isn’t Corbin. And I hate that.
Trey watches me carefully, then nods. “You know, I had a feeling you were somewhere else tonight.”
I swallow. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says easily, but I can hear the disappointment laced in his words. “I like you, Jules. You’re cool as hell. But if your head’s not in this, then I’m not gonna chase you down and try to make you want something you don’t.”
I let out a quiet laugh. “You’re going to find someone who is ready.”
Trey gives me a lopsided grin and nudges my shoulder. “I know. And when you figure out what you want, I hope you go after it, too.”
The words stick in my chest as we say our goodbyes.
When I finally step outside, the cold air nips at my skin, but it feels good . Like I can breathe again. I dig my phone out of my purse and shoot Connie a text.
Well… that was a bust.
She replies instantly.
LOL. Spill.
I exhale as I stare at the screen. I could tell her the truth. That I tried, but I couldn't feel anything for Trey. That maybe I'm a lost cause when it comes to moving on. That no matter what I do, I still wind up back in the same damn place. Thinking about Corbin Banks.
Instead, I type:
I just want to go home.
And for some reason, my mind immediately conjures a picture of Corbin’s house.
Not because that’s where I used to live.
But because I know that’s where Tate is.
And Corbin will be the one tucking him into bed tonight.
God help me.