19. Julian
CHAPTER 19
JULIAN
L ater that night, as I'm still trying to process everything, my phone rings unexpectedly.
The caller ID flashes Jack's name, and a mixture of surprise and cautious optimism washes over me. We haven't spoken since I called him the other day. Even though that went well, he hasn't answered my text about watching over Nat, and there's a good chance she's already told him about our fight.
I answer the call, trying to sound neutral despite my nerves. "Hey, Jack."
"Hey, man,” Jack begins, his voice a bit unsteady. “I've been thinking, and I... I think it's time we cleared the air."
I hesitate, considering the ramifications of a direct discussion with Jack. "I think that’s a good idea," I finally reply. Part of me is relieved he's taking the initiative, but the other part is worried about where this might lead.
"Have you been to the bar on Main Street—O'Malley's? We could grab a drink," he suggests, and I agree to join him tonight. It means leaving Aria with a sitter again, but the prospect of finally addressing the past and perhaps moving forward—especially with how desperately I need a friend right now—is an opportunity I can't pass up.
When we first meet at the bar, the energy between us is stiff and uncomfortable despite the surrounding casual atmosphere. The initial greetings are awkward, each of us tentatively feeling out the boundaries of this newly reopened line of communication. We each order a beer before instinctively shifting focus to the television in the corner, pretending to watch whatever game is on, neither of us quite sure how to broach the subject of our broken friendship.
Jack breaks the ice first, his expression serious as he leans forward slightly. "Thanks for looking out for Nat," he begins, his tone sincere. "I don’t like the thought of her still working on the building with everything that's going on."
I nod, immediately flooded with relief. This is mutual ground, a good place to start. "That's what I said. But you know Nat—she’s so determined. I’m just trying to keep her safe."
Jack sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, that’s Natalie for you. Stubborn as ever." He pauses, his gaze meeting mine. "I appreciate it, though. I'm glad she has you looking out for her. Really."
Jack doesn't seem to know anything about the fight, thank God. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
The conversation slowly shifts from Natalie to Jack and me, the past creeping in around what's being left unsaid. "Look, Julian, about before..." Jack continues, trailing off as he searches for the right words. "I wasn’t there for you when you came back from the service. I didn’t understand what you were going through, and I should have tried harder."
His apology is a shock. I thought he would be angry with me for how I treated him. But hearing this, something inside me releases, a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying beginning to lift.
"I wasn’t exactly easy to reach out to," I admit, letting out a slow breath. “I know that when I left, you felt like I was abandoning the town. Abandoning you and Nat. Maybe you were right."
Jack shrugs. "That’s ancient history, man. You’re my brother—in all the ways that count. I miss that. I miss this," he gestures between us, a small smile breaking through.
The bar around us hums with the low buzz of other patrons enjoying their evening. The place has a laid-back, almost timeless feel, with dim lighting that casts a warm glow over worn wooden tables and vintage posters adorning the walls. It's comfortable and familiar, just like Jack, and I feel myself beginning to settle into his companionship.
I signal to the bartender, ordering another round of drinks. As I hand over my card to pay, Jack raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Just because I'm an artist doesn't mean I'm starving, you know."
I grin, the ease of our old comradery returning. “Just saying thanks,” I reply. "How’s the art restoration at the Langford going?" I ask, genuinely interested in his part of the project, and knowing most of his work was scheduled for after the major structural and interior renovations.
"I’ve only just started," Jack says, taking a sip of his beer. "It’s mostly preservation and some restoration where necessary. But everything's on hold now with the scaffolding down and all this... mess."
The mention of the scaffolding—and everything that goes with it—chases away the ease we were just beginning to enjoy. Jack watches me carefully for a moment, giving me time to gather my thoughts.
“Julian, what's going on?” he finally asks, his expression tight.
"I don't know, man” I admit, wishing I had more information to share with him. “It's all been so vague, aside from them using my name. It's like someone doesn’t want the project—or me—to succeed. I just can’t figure out who. Or why."
Jack listens intently, considering my words. "That’s so crazy. Do you have any leads, maybe something from before you left that might be coming back now?"
I shake my head. It's a fair guess, considering how much of a punk I used to be, but still nothing comes to mind. "It’s like grasping at straws. We’ve upped security, but we never find anything useful. And I’m trying to keep everyone safe, especially Natalie."
Jack’s gaze sharpens at the mention of Natalie, the level of danger hitting home. "Shit. I didn’t know it was that serious. You need to be careful. Both of you."
"Yeah, I know," I sigh, my body sinking deeper into my chair under the weight of it all. "I’m doing what I can. It’s just this feeling of being watched, targeted—it’s unsettling."
Jack nods, placing his glass down with a thoughtful thud. "Let me know if there’s anything I can do, Julian. Anything at all."
"Thanks, Jack. It means a lot," I reply, appreciating his offer and feeling slightly relieved to have shared the burden of my worries.
“Anytime,” Jack says, leaning back in his chair. “It’s just weird, is all. You really can't think of anyone who might want to hurt you?”
I pause, taking a slow sip of my beer, the cool bitterness of the drink giving me a moment to run over everything in my mind again. It’s the same question Natalie asked me. The same thing I’ve asked myself. But my answer is the same, too. "Honestly, I can't think of anyone in town."
Jack furrows his brows. "What about elsewhere? People you knew before—outside of this town?"
The question makes me shift uncomfortably in my seat. My past, particularly my military service, wasn't exactly a time of making lifelong friends.
"The military was…rough," I admit reluctantly, "but I haven't spoken to anyone from those days in years. There was one guy, though..." My voice trails off as I recall a particularly intense disagreement that I've been trying to block out for years.
“What happened?” Jack asks, jumping at the lead.
I sigh, setting my glass down. "We used to be friends—close—like brothers. Things got complicated. We had different views on handling certain... situations. It ended badly. We parted on really bad terms." I shake my head slightly.
Jack nods, considering. "You think he could be holding a grudge after all these years?"
I shrug, the possibility seeming both absurd and terrifyingly plausible. "I don't know. It seems crazy, but I've seen worse shit. The things people are capable of when they hold onto anger.” The words turn to acid on my tongue as I recall the horrible things I said to Natalie. “This guy knew a lot about my life, knew that I'd eventually come back here. It's a long shot, but maybe…”
"Maybe it's a lead worth following," Jack interjects firmly. "Do you remember his name, anything that could help track him down?"
"Yeah. Mason Phillips. I haven’t kept up with him; no idea where he is now, or what he’s doing." The realization that this old acquaintance might be my adversary sends a chill down my spine. Could he still be so angry? After all these years?
Jack leans back, processing the information. "Well, it might be worth looking into. Maybe check with your old contacts, see if anyone knows where he’s ended up. But be careful," he adds, his voice heavy with concern.
I nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination settling in. "I will, and thanks, man. It means a lot to have you back in my corner."
The idea of Mason being involved nags at me. Is it really so farfetched? Or have I just been too desperate to block out those painful memories that I refused to acknowledge the possibility?
Then something else occurs to me. "You know, Mason was actually pretty well connected. He knew a lot of people who…well, let's just say?—"
Before I can articulate another theory, Jack’s phone buzzes loudly against the table, slicing through my thoughts.
He glances at the screen, his expression shifting rapidly from curiosity to shock, then to anger. "What the fuck?” he says tersely, looking up at me with hard eyes. "Did you really say that to Natalie? Called her a runaway bride?"
The accusation hits me like a physical blow. I wince, my own harsh words ringing in my ears. He was going to find out about it sooner or later. I know I fully deserve his judgement, and he's waiting for an answer, but there's nothing I can say that will make it right.
"I was out of line," I admit, my hands falling limp on the table. "I was frustrated, and I said something I shouldn’t have. It was a low blow, and I’m not proud of it."
Jack's anger doesn’t subside, but his voice lowers as he leans closer. "That’s not just a low blow, Julian. That’s throwing one of the most painful moments of her life back in her face. That's sick, man. She doesn’t deserve that—especially not from you."
I nod, the weight of my regret growing even bigger at Jack's words. "I screwed up. I know I need to apologize to her. I just don't know how."
Jack stares at me for a long moment, assessing, then his expression softens slightly. "You’re going to have to figure that one out for yourself. But make sure that you do. Natalie’s tough, but that doesn’t mean you get to act like a dick. You owe her a proper apology. Fix it."
"I will," I assure him, shifting in my seat.
Jack nods, seemingly satisfied for the moment, though I'm sure I'll hear about this again later. "Good, I’m holding you to that.” He stands to leave, the conversation clearly over. “Keep me updated about this Mason thing, or whatever it turns out to be. We need to get to the bottom of this before someone gets seriously hurt."
I wince.
“Yeah, I know.”