Up In Flames(23)
Author: Nicole Williams

Why did I ask questions I didn’t want to hear the answers to? It was a riddle.

Cole answered me with a cool look.

“How was the fire?” I asked, taking a step inside the weight room. When Cole flinched, I stopped.

“Hot,” he said dryly.

He wasn’t making this easy. “Did anyone get hurt?”

“Chase sprained his ankle and I took a little tumble.” Cole lifted up the right leg of his shorts.

“Oh my gosh,” I said, covering my mouth. A bright purple bruise covered the entire front of Cole’s upper leg.

“It’s no big deal,” he said, dropping the short leg back over the monster sized bruise. “I’ve sustained worse injuries this summer.”

I doubted it was the main one he was referring to, but my gaze jumped to his nose. Nothing but a small scab remained of the damage I’d done to him that night at the bowling alley. It was nearly healed.

“Cole . . .” I began, not sure what words would come out of my mouth next, but going with it. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for not going after you that night at the bowling alley and telling you I cho—”

“You need to get going,” Cole interrupted, lifting his hand. “I’d walk you to the door if I was certain you wouldn’t smash it into my face again.”

My eyes welled. He was saying goodbye. Again.

“Cole,” I said, taking a few more steps his way. “I miss you. I don’t want to let you go.” There it was. My heart couldn’t be any more vulnerable.

His gaze didn’t shift when he opened his mouth. “You should really let me go. It’s just getting pathetic now.” He shoved off the wall. “Besides, I let you go so long ago, I barely remember your name.”

He was just saying those things to hurt me. That was his self-defense mechanism. When he was hurt, he lashed back. I wasn’t going to let him off so easy.

“Cole—” I started before his eyes narrowed into slits.

“I’m over you,” he hissed.

“Obviously,” a new voice came from behind me. A half-naked woman sauntered into the room.

Cole sighed.

The redhead from the bowling alley wore nothing but an oversized white undershirt and a triumphant smile.

The room started to spin.

“Are you coming back to bed?” she asked, appraising Cole in a way that made me feel all kinds of territorial. The room spun a bit more when I realized I had no right to claim any kind of territory to Cole Carson.

“No, Kayla,” he said. “I’m not.”

He didn’t have any problem remembering her name.

I remembered the way he’d breathed my name when I had my hand around him, and I knew then that none of what we’d shared had meant anything to him. He’d breathed my name, he’d breathed her name, he’d breathed dozens of others along the way too, I was certain.

“And now,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek as I glared at him, “I’m over you, too.”

I couldn’t get out of that room fast enough. As I sprinted down the hall, I heard what sounded like Kayla laughing and Cole cursing, but none of that mattered. At least I wanted to pretend like none of it mattered.

I shoved the door open and ran for my Jeep. Only once I had it started and was peeling out of the parking lot did I let a tear drop. As soon as one was free, the rest poured out like I’d been repressing a lifetime of tears. Maybe I had, but one thing I was certain of was that, after tonight, I would never cry another tear for Cole Carson.

I wasn’t driving anywhere in particular as I sped down the dark road. Just away. I was so sick and tired of feeling this way, all I wanted to do was wake up tomorrow and not remember anything of Cole. I wanted my mind erased of him.

Yet no matter how fast I drove or how far out of town I got—there was no forgetting about Cole. A half-lit sign flashed ahead, giving me an idea. If I couldn’t force Cole out of my mind, maybe I could drink him out.

Biggie’s was a backwoods bar that had always been around. No one could quite remember when it had opened since it had changed hands and names so many times, but it was the kind of place you guessed would thrive even in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. I’d never been inside; it wasn’t exactly the kind of place my kind of girl hung out. I’d been in the parking lot once to rescue Dani when her date had left with another girl, but other than that, I never thought I’d step foot inside the place. Funny how life can change in the blink of an eye.

It was a Saturday night and the parking lot was full. So full I had to park on the side of the road. I didn’t worry that my Jeep could be easily recognized if any one of my friends or family were driving this road tonight. I didn’t worry about who was inside who could recognize me. I didn’t worry about the repercussions of my actions tomorrow. I didn’t worry about anything but the next ten minutes and my need to drown it all out with as many shots as I could get the bartender to pour me before I got cut off.

Then I remembered I was at Biggie’s. It wasn’t known as a place that cut people off. It was known for cheap beer, cheaper whiskey, and easy women.

I was hoping to take advantage of two of those three things tonight.

It was also a place that didn’t check IDs, so I didn’t need to worry about that either.

The music the live band played tonight was so loud it thumped my eardrums halfway across the parking lot. It really should have been a crime to play any song from the Rolling Stones that poorly.

I ignored the man heaving a few feet from the entrance. I pretended the man and woman I passed as soon as I walked inside weren’t hav**g s*x, but gauging by the screwed up expressions on their faces and the easy access skirt the woman was wearing, it was quite plausible.

The music was ten times as horrifying inside as it was in the parking lot, and the place was so busy it looked like ten people had arrived per vehicle. But it was dark, and everyone was so busy paying attention to someone else that I disappeared into the crowd. My cutoffs might have been longer, my camisole looser, and my eyes clearer than the rest of the women, but barring these minor differences, I blended in.

As I made my way to the bar, I scanned the room to make sure I didn’t recognize anyone who would recognize me. At least easily recognize me. This was Winthrop we were talking about, and everyone knew everyone to a certain degree. Other than a few regulars I recognized from the diner, I didn’t think anyone would be able to place me. Elle Montgomery at Biggie’s wasn’t quite a connect the dots scenario.

I had to shoulder through a couple of broad shouldered guys sporting flannel shirts with cut off sleeves and a pair of mullets that were obviously their pride and joy. They shot me irritated looks until their glossy eyes adjusted.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the one on my right said, leering at me in a way that made my skin crawl. “I don’t recall seeing you around these parts.” He burped and the alcohol fumes that came at me could have singed my nose hair if I had any.

I motioned at the bartender. The sooner I got my drink, the sooner I could get away from Backwoods and Trailer Park.

“I’ve obviously been missing out,” I said, not even trying to mask my sarcasm. These two were too drunk to pick up on tone and subtle nuances anyways.

The other one grabbed his hubcap sized belt buckle and nudged me. “You want to see just exactly what you’ve been missing out on, honey?”

I wrinkled my nose. “From where I’m standing,” I said, doing a quick scan of flannel, mullet dude, “it doesn’t look like I’ve been missing out on much.”

Walking into this place had bolstered my bravery. Or stupidity. Knowing I was seconds away from drowning everything gave me an edge I’d never had before.

“I like a girl with a smart mouth,” the guy said, staring at my mouth before licking his lips. “Especially when that smart mouth is sucking on my—”

“You two a**holes aren’t giving this girl a hard time are you?” the bartender interrupted, eyeing the men on either side of me. He was about my dad’s age, but he was bigger, broader, and just had this kick-butt vibe.

“You don’t know how hard of a time we’d love to give her, Biggie,” the mullet on the right said, wagging his eyebrows at the bartender.

“And you are about to know how hard of a time my shotgun will give you when I shove it up both your asses if you don’t get the hell out of my bar.”

All I’d wanted was a drink or two and to forget myself for a few hours. That was all I wanted.

Why did everything have to be so darn difficult lately?

Without another word at Biggie or another look my way, the mullet twins shoved off the bar and headed for the exit. Just like that. Two guys that looked like they ate two dozen eggs a day for breakfast, who were drunk as a pair of skunks, just up and left the party with one threat from one guy.

What kind of guy intimidated those kinds of guys? I was scared to find out.

I met Biggie’s gaze and tried on a smile that I was sure didn’t do anything to make me look any less scared of him.

His eyes suddenly widened. “Laurel?” he said, his face blanching a few shades.

The name caught me off guard. I was sure my own face blanched at hearing my mother’s name in this scuzzy place.

“No . . . I’m Elle,” I said. “Laurel was—”

“Your mom,” Biggie said, exhaling like he could have been relieved or disappointed.

I nodded. How did this guy know my mom?

“God knows I love this bar, but it’s such a seedy place even Satan stays out, so why in the whole world of bars does sweet Laurel Sheehan’s daughter have to walk into mine?”

He’d used my mom’s maiden name. No one used that. Everywhere I went, she was known as Laurel Montgomery. She might have grown up here and been a Sheehan until she was nineteen, but this whole town only knew her as a Montgomery.

Except for Biggie.

“How did you know my mom?”

He paused a few moments before answering, almost like he was having an internal debate. Then, clearing his throat, he said, “I was in love with her.”

So not what I’d expected.

“You were in love with her?” I almost whispered, taking another look at him. He was still big, broad, and badass.

“Crazy in love with her,” Biggie replied.

“When?” I asked, leaning into the bar.

“The better part of my teenage years,” he said, shaking his head. “The best years of my life.”

“Did she know . . . you were in love with her?”

Mom had been with Dad almost their entire high school lives. They’d gotten married a few short months after graduating high school.

“Of course she did,” he said, looking a bit insulted. “And she loved me right back.”

Whoa. This was a mind trip. This whole entire night. This whole entire summer.

“Did my dad know?”

He’d obviously wound up with the girl, but I couldn’t see him being the understanding type once he found out his girlfriend was in love with another guy at the same time.