Page 188 of Tar City
Jax freezes. That’s all the confirmation I need. If he wanted me, he’d have said it already. Instead, he looks away.
“You’re good here,” he says quietly. “Safe. Dancing.”
Something inside me cracks, clean down the middle.
“So that’s it?” I whisper. “I’m just your fuck buddy now? Last I remember you wanted something serious with me. Of course I shouldn’t have believed it. You got what you wanted and left. Did you think I’d just be waiting here for another round?”
His mouth tightens.
“No, it wasn’t and it isn’t anything like that. It’s complicated, okay?”
“Sure is,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He doesn’t argue or correct me.
“You know what?” I say, voice shaking. “I want you to leave.”
“No,” he says calmly, turning back to me, his eyes pinning me in place. “You don’t.”
Rage spikes. “I do. Go.”
He watches me for a long second then he steps closer anyway. His thumb catches under my eye, wiping away tears I didn’t realize were falling. He leans down and kisses me. For a moment, I melt—muscle memory, heat, him. Everything falls quiet, then I remember, and I shove him back.
“Do you want me to go back?” I ask, my breath uneven. “Back to Tar City.”
YOU BELONG HERE, IN OUR CITY
The voice in my head catches me off guard, but Jax drags me back with the next words out of his mouth.
“I can’t do the boyfriend thing, Sisk.”
My heart folds in on itself. I straighten, wiping my face with the heel of my hand, forcing myself back together piece by piece.
“Okay,” I say. My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “You should go.”
This time he doesn’t argue. I watch him grind the cigarette into the rail, and I realize he’s already let me go.
He leaves my life as suddenly as he entered it, and somehow I end up shattered all over again. But this time, I make myself a promise:This is the last fucking time.
* * *
ONE YEAR LATER
Lou slides a drink in front of me before I even sit down.
“You look hot,” he says, eyeing my boots.
“You look jealous,” I shoot back.
He grins. “Bitch.”
I’m looking around this bar like a tourist, noticing every crack in the booths, every rip on the coasters, every smudge on the glasses. I see the guy yelling at the bartender, a couple in the corner making out mid-argument. I notice everything, and as depressing as I find it, the liveliness of it all has me staring like I’m seeing it for the first time.
Lou props his chin in his palm. “So. Tell me everything. Did you make them cry?”
“Only twice.”
“Good. If you’re not making someone cry during an adagio, what’s the point?”
