Page 64 of Scarred Crown

Nick. I want Nick.

I’m giddy at the realization I could have Nick. In every way. He can be mine. He wants to be mine.

“You’re breaking things off with me?” Alex’s tone brims with disbelief. “Jules.”

He tries to reach for me, but I sidestep him.

“Look, if this is about us having sex, I can wait, all right? I’ll stop having a go at you about it.”

I can’t meet his gaze. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if that was the problem? “That’s not it. We’re not right for each other. I wanted us to be right, but we’re just not. I’m sorry.” I glance over my shoulder, thinking of Nick in the barn. “I have to go.” I rub my forehead.

God, I just walked out on Nick after he kissed me. What must he be thinking?

Before Alex can plead his case or get pissed off with me, which is probably more likely, I gather my dress and run back to the barn, oblivious to the rocks pricking my bare feet.

“Nick!” I climb the ladder and pop out onto the balcony area, prepared to apologize, kiss him again, declare my love for him. But it’s empty except for my shoes.

I gaze out across the property, trying to think of where Nick might have gone. Will he be mad at me for leaving? Why didn’t I stay?

A pit forms in my stomach. Strands of my hair that have come loose from my updo get caught by the wind, untethered.

I need to find him.

###

Time loses all meaning while I wander the property in the dark, and when the fireworks finish and the lights come back on, I keep looking.

Exhausted, and no longer on a high from our champagne feast and my newly discovered feelings, I head back to the barn. At some point, he’ll return, right? I even checked his bedroom to see if he collapsed there trying to sleep off the alcohol.

When I get to the barn, there’s a shaft of light streaming out of the cracked door. Strange. Nick and I haven’t brought out the lanterns since the last time we tried the Ouija board and failed miserably.

Unsure, I push the door open with my fingertips. The light is dim, but it’s enough—too much. There—sprawled on the blankets Nick and I sat on earlier to watch the fireworks, the blankets we’ve used for years to spend time together, the blankets he kissed me on—are Vicky and Nick. His shirt is gone, and his hand is up her very short skirt with his knee wedged between her legs.

My eyes sting, and I blink.

Am I drunk?

Is this a nightmare?

He’s with Vicky?

“Nick?” I register the shock in my voice, and the fact I shouldn’t be standing here staring at them, at the same time.

Vicky gasps, and she pushes Nick off her. “Nick, you didn’t lock the door?”

He turns toward me, still lying on the ground, and his eyes are glassy with alcohol. He’s so drunk I can’t believe he’s even capable of making out with Vicky. Definitely not in a remember to lock the door state of mind.

“Julia,” he slurs.

Vicky straightens her clothes and kisses Nick’s cheek. “Call me tomorrow?” she asks.

“For sure,” Nick says, and he gives her a lazy smile.

She slips past me with her shoes in her hand.

I stare at Nick for a beat, and he stares back. As stunned as I was about him kissing me, I think I’m more stunned about finding him with Vicky. This empty barn is ours—his and mine—we’ve filled it with hours of conversation, drinking, and stupid games. Finding him here with her is a punch to the gut. Chills snake across my skin, and I give a violent shiver.

“Are you two back together?” My voice wavers.