51. Jealousy
Jealousy
Silas
Eli staked out a few tables in the back corner, making sure there was a seat saved for Ruth. Pitchers of beer made their way around while Eli slid a glass of gin in front of me without a word.
When I stepped onto the gravel of the parking lot, my eyes had gone straight to the darkest corner.
The same spot where, one reckless night, too much gin and too many slow dances had led to Kiran being conceived in the front seat of my truck.
The bartender sent Old Man Simpson out to bring us inside after someone complained about our noise.
Eli had to drive us home that night, both of us flushed and disheveled, Caroline failing miserably at hiding her rosy cheeks.
This town holds the ghosts of the life we built. The church, this old honky tonk, Ruth’s diner where we spent every Saturday morning over coffee and eggs. We weren’t just part of this place, we were woven into it. Every person we knew was like family, every street corner a chapter in our story.
I take a slow sip of my gin then lean back in my chair. My gaze drifts over the room. The dance floor is still mostly empty, the bar lined with familiar faces.
And then, a splash of pink in the middle of muted blues and browns .
My breath stalls.
I would know that dress anywhere. I would know that body in any lifetime, in any form of existence.
That’s my wife.
My eyes trace the curve of her hips, the way her dress clings before flaring out just above the tops of her boots. Her hair shifts as she moves, waves cascading down her back, parting just enough to expose the slope of her shoulders.
Ruth hands the bartender some cash, then her and Caroline drink their beers.
“I swear, Silas, I didn’t know Ruth was going to bring her here tonight. Swear on my Bible,” Eli says hastily.
I give him a sideways glance. “It’s fine, Eli. We can just stay out of each other's way. No ruining your night.”
“Are you sure? I can tell her to leave.”
I shake my head. “I’m an adult, you don’t have to tell anyone to leave for me.”
“Alright. Well, if you change your mind, say the word.” Eli nods before walking toward the pool tables.
Marcel spins a chair around, straddling the seat, resting his arms on the back. “She’s here.”
I take a slow sip of my drink. “I can see that.”
“Still not going to make nice?” he asks before tipping his beer back in a long gulp.
“Time for that is long gone. We’re two different people now, Marcel.”
His head bobs. “Got it.”
He stands from his chair and follows Eli, while the rest of the men splinter off into their own conversations. I stay seated, watching, listening, letting it all sink in. Not like I could join in, even if I wanted to.
I never really noticed it before, the way they overlooked me. I used to think it was out of respect, maybe even fear. But now I see it for what it is. I wasn’t part of their world.
It doesn’t take long before Ruth and Caroline make their way toward us. The men greet Ruth warmly, but Caroline keeps her eyes anywhere but on me, fingers wrapped tightly around her beer like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.
“Hello, Silas,” Ruth says as she stops in front of me.
“Ruth.” I drain the last of my drink, the burn in my throat easier to face than the woman standing just feet away.
“I’m glad you’re here tonight. Good to get out for a bit.” She offers me a smile, but it does nothing to loosen the tightness in my chest.
“I’m here for Eli. He deserves a good night.”
She nods, glancing between Caroline and me like she’s measuring the distance neither of us will close. “He does. Well, speaking of, I’m going to go say hello to that rascal brother of mine. Have a good night, Silas.”
“You too, Ruth.” She walks away.
A slow, hesitant beat passes before Caroline finally speaks. “I hope you’ve been well, Silas.”
I don’t look at her. “Just fine, thank you.” My eyes stay locked on the dance floor.
“And Kiran? I miss him.” Her voice is steady, but there’s a quiet plea beneath it, something fragile she won’t let me see.
“He’s good.”
Eli steps in, setting another drink in front of me before disappearing again. I welcome the distraction, wrapping my fingers around the glass; something solid, something real.
Caroline exhales softly, and I catch the way her breasts rise and fall from the corner of my eye. “Guess I’ll get back to Ruth,” she says, but she lingers for a breath longer. “It is good to see you out, Silas.”
She glances around the bar, the apparition of old memories hanging in the air between us. “We had some good times here. Hope you can remember that.”
She turns on the heel of her boot and walks away, leaving nothing but a trail of her perfume.
The bar grows louder with each passing hour.
The dance floor fills, boots scuffing against the worn wood, couples swaying and spinning in the hazy glow of the overhead lights.
At some point, Ruth brought out a cake, cutting thick slices for all the men as they sang a boisterous, off-key rendition of Happy Birthday to Eli.
I clapped along, forced a small smile, but the moment felt distant.
Like I was watching through a window instead of being a part of it.
I wish I had driven myself. At least then I’d have the freedom to slip away when I wanted.
Settling onto a barstool near the pool tables, I let the shadows swallow me whole, nursing a drink I barely taste. That’s when the door swings open, the night air sweeping in behind a group of men. Something about them pulls at the edges of my awareness, forcing my attention.
The Everly boys.
Bennett leads them in, his stride easy, confident, an off-duty sheriff at his side. But it’s the men trailing behind him that make my blood turn to ice.
I know them.
I killed them.
His brothers, his ranch manager, his nephew. Six men who should be buried six feet under.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I sink deeper into the shadows, heart hammering as I watch the spirits move through the room like they belong. They don’t drift or flicker like ghosts in some storybook. They walk . They exist . And I’m the one who put them in this state.
Eli appears in front of me, his face tense. “Do you see them, Silas?”
I nod, my throat too tight to form words.
His voice drops, firm and urgent. “Stay in the shadows. Stay quiet. You hear me?”
Another nod.
He doesn’t wait for more, tipping his chin before heading straight for Bennett. I watch as they shake hands, exchanging words I can’t hear. Bennett climbs onto a barstool, facing away from both our group and the men who stand too close to him, unaware that ghosts breathe the same air.
But my attention shifts, drawn to movement on the dance floor.
Marcel and Caroline.
A slow, simmering heat builds in my chest as I watch them two-step, blending seamlessly into the rotation of couples. Marcel’s hands sit respectably where they should, but my gaze locks onto the one resting at the small of her back.
Then she smiles.
Not just a polite smile. Not a forced, social pleasantry.
She laughs .
The sound knocks the air from my lungs. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her look that way, so long since I’ve been the reason for it.
And yet here she is, moving under someone else’s hands, smiling like the past doesn’t haunt her, laughing like she couldn’t have a care in the world.
Ruth leans in, her voice low but sharp. “Silas, I need you to stay calm. You have to keep your composure.”
My fingers tighten around the sweating glass in front of me. My jaw clenches so hard it aches. “I’m fucking calm, Ruth.” My voice is nothing more than a whisper, but the tension behind it crackles like a live wire.
“Great answer,” she bites back, unimpressed.
Her gaze follows mine, expecting to find it locked onto the Everly men at the bar. But instead, she sees where it really is. The dance floor.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She groans, draining the rest of her beer in one swallow. “Silas, don’t do this. You know Marcel respects you. They’re just having fun.”
I barely hear her. My focus is still fixed on the way his hand rests at the small of her back. How easily she moves with him.
“He’s touching her.” The words slip from my lips like a curse .
Ruth slams another beer onto the table, leaning in close. “If you cause a scene, so help me God , I will send you to hell myself.”
“There won’t be any need for a scene,” I say evenly, but my pulse continues to beat a rapid rhythm in my ears.
Her eyes narrow, searching my face for any sign of a crack. “Listen to me, Silas. I’ve seen a lot of spirits in my day. But I’ve never seen two meet when one killed the other . Eli and I can’t help you out of that.”
“I understand.” The words come easy, but they taste like a lie.
Ruth watches me for another long second before sighing. “Good. Stay here . Stay quiet .”
Then she stands and makes her way toward Bennett at the bar, playing nice with the devil like the rest of them.
And I sit there, body tensed, fingers flexing against my glass, watching my wife dance in another man’s arms.