Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(14)
Author: Monica Murphy

She lets loose an irritated sound. I wonder if she’s drunk. It’s not quite two a.m. Has she been at a bar? I sort of can’t imagine it, but then again, I can. She’s done this before. And besides, weirder things have happened these last few years. “I ran into his mom at the Buckhorn. Parker died in Afghanistan, ju—just like your brother.”

Oh God. She’s definitely drunk, considering she was at the Buckhorn, the bar where all the locals hang out in Shingletown, where I grew up. “When . . . when did it happen?”

“A few days ago. Belinda’s devastated. Just devastated.” She hiccups and sobs at the same time and I settle on the edge of the bed, hanging my head as I listen to her go on. Crying over Danny, crying for Parker.

Crying for herself.

She used to call me like this a lot, right after Danny died. I’d worked late-night shifts at one of the diners in the next town over, a real tourist trap where I kept busy, worked plenty of hours, and made great tips. She would call me on my thirty-minute-plus drive home, a little drunk from the wine she consumed too much of at dinner and crying. Always crying over the loss of Danny and how unfair life was.

I’m sick of it. Yes, I miss my brother, but it’s been almost two years. Why can’t everyone just . . . move on? He would be furious to see everyone act like this, especially Colin. I left home for this very reason, and here I am all over again. Surrounded by sadness and despair. I need a change of scenery. I need to find myself without the dark cloak of my brother’s untimely death hanging over me.

As I finally hang up with my mom and crawl into bed without going back to Colin, I realize now more than ever that I need my freedom.

The healing butterfly tattoo on my neck is becoming more and more representative of my life as every day passes.

Chapter 6

Colin

We’ve gone back to the way we were, Jen and I. Those few days after she gave her notice and confessed that she wanted me and I basically refused her, those two nights in my bed . . . all of that’s forgotten. We’re back to her working, me working, and the two of us living together but never really talking.

It’s been a week. She’s leaving me in three. To find out what’s going on in her life, I eavesdrop on her conversations with others at The District like a desperate loser looking for any glimmer of information. They’re all curious as to why she’s leaving, and why I’m not reacting. They all think we have a secret thing and we’ve never really deterred them from thinking otherwise.

More like I’ve never deterred it. I know how hot she is. Guys would be all over her if they thought they had a sliver of a chance. So I glower every time I catch any guy approaching her. Putting all of my past ‘I’m a protective big brother, don’t touch her’ skills from when she was a teen and every dude in her class wanted to bang her.

They all leave her alone and she never protests. Somehow, I still f**ked this up.

When people question her about her plans, she’s always evasive, offering general answers and with such a pretty smile every single time, I swear my heart seizes up when I see it. I’m surprised I haven’t dropped dead of a massive heart attack before the age of twenty-five. Last night had been an eye opener. I want her. Just looking at her makes me feel all growly and possessive. Jen belongs to me.

She just doesn’t realize it yet.

Only Fable knows what’s really going on in Jen’s life and head—at least I figure she knows everything, because she and Jen are so close. Whereas I know nothing, because Jen and I aren’t anything close to close.

My employees on shift tonight are all crowded in the bar at this very moment, chatting before the dinner crowd shows up. I don’t bother reprimanding them, though I should. I rarely let them get away with standing around and doing nothing while on the clock.

But the restaurant looks good—everything’s clean and the tables are properly set for the customers. I like everything to have a certain look, a clean aesthetic that gives us a reputation for being a classy joint, as my father would say, versus yet another dive bar/restaurant where the college students hang out.

Considering I’ve trained my employees so well that they’re actually getting shit accomplished without me having to remind them, I just don’t have it in me to yell.

Besides, I’m trying to glean information from Jen, since she’s sure as hell not talking to me. They all surround her because they respect her. She’s taken it upon herself more than once to help run the place. She has a convincing way about her; corralling my employees and getting them to do what she wants comes naturally for her.

She’d make a terrific manager someday. She’s not ready yet but with the proper training, she would be great.

“Do you have a job yet?” Becca, one of my newer cocktail waitresses, is the one eagerly drilling Jen at the moment.

“I hope to go to Sacramento on my next day off for interviews.” Jen shrugs, her body language casual, but I can hear the nerves in her voice. “I have a few things set up.”

“You’re so brave, just leaving like that with nothing lined up.” Becca sounds like a borderline idiot, admiring Jen for taking off with no real plan. I thought she had one. She’s always been too impulsive. “I wish I had the guts to do something like that.”

“Guts? I think she’s crazy. There’s nothing brave about up and leaving a solid, dependable job and a place where you have great friends who’ll be there for you no matter what you need. Why would anyone want to walk away from that? Sounds like the ideal setup to me and she’s just . . . bailing.” Ah, leave it to Fable to call Jen out for what she’s doing. I know Fable is good and pissed at Jen.

“Fable.” Jen shakes her head, clearly exasperated. I can only see the back of her head, but I’m sure she’s giving Fable the death glare. “Haven’t we already had this conversation?”

“Maybe.” Fable shrugs. “Can’t I be selfish and wish you were sticking around? There’s no reason for you to leave.”

“There are a bazillion reasons for me to leave. One of them just so happens to be here at this very moment.”

Dread sinks my gut to my toes. She’s talking about me. And not only is she talking about me, she’s doing so in front of a handful of my employees. Employees that get it and suspect something is going on between us. And will now suspect I have everything to do with her leaving.

Fucking great.

Moving away from my perch at the hostess stand I stride into the bar, clapping my hands and putting on my stern boss face. “All right, let’s break up this unofficial powwow and get to work. Customers will start trickling in at any minute.”