I figure she’s referring to the party again and don’t think much of it. I reach under the counter for my purse, and when I stand back upright, Tristan is on the other side of the bar, appearing happy to see me.
“Hey. So I was thinking I could walk you out to your car.” He rests his elbows on the counter as I sling my purse handle over my shoulder. “I have to wait for Nova to pick me up anyway. She just texted me to say she’s running a few minutes late.”
“Actually, I’m taking the bus,” I tell him as I dig around in my purse for my bus pass.
“The bus? Why? Where’s your car?”
I find my bus pass beneath a sticky piece of candy and a toy car Mason must have put inside there. “A… friend is using it,” I lie, having no idea why. I could just tell him about Jax, that he’s my brother who lives with me, but I’ve already told Tristan so much, more than a lot of people.
“Friend?” he questions or more like accuses. “Hmm...”
I round the corner of the bar and head for the main door. “Hmm, what? What are you implying, Tristan?”
He strides after me, his long legs easily keeping up. “I was just wondering if this friend is a friend like me.”
“No,” I reply without so much as a single thought to what I’m saying. Then I shake my head, flatten my hand against the door, and shove it open, reaching back inside to turn off the last of the lights before walking out into the night.
The crescent moon beams vividly beside the stars that seem to glitter brighter than they have before, as if they’re trying to tell me something. Just across the vacant parking lot near the corner of the street is where the bus stop is. It’s not far, but the inadequate lighting makes me edgy.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?” I skim the parking lot for any sign that Conner could be lurking out there somewhere. I haven’t seen or heard from him since the night he banged on the door of my home. But unless he’s behind bars, I never feel safe. “What time did Benny schedule you for?”
“Nine.” He checks for messages on his phone. “So how long of a bus ride is it?”
“Like forty-five minutes.”
“You want a ride?” The pale glow of the screen lights up his face as he reads a text, then his fingers move as he responds to it.
“No, I’m okay.” I drag the edge of the bus pass across the palm of my hand, feeling anxious for some reason. “It’s late, and I don’t want Nova to have to drive fifteen miles out of the way.”
“She won’t care,” he promises, putting his phone away. “She’s that way, all do-gooder and everything.”
“I can kind of tell. And, really, it’s fine. I ride the bus all the time.”
“Avery, just let me help. For getting me the job.”
“You don’t owe me anything for doing that. I like helping you.”
“I know you do.” The concept seems to acutely puzzle him. “But I want to help you, too, not just take like I used to in the past.”
I dither, about to accept his offer because, honestly, I really despise riding the bus, when I notice a familiar car turning off the road and into the parking lot. I remember the day Conner bought the piece of shit and how pissed off I was because we didn’t need a second car, especially one that broke down every two seconds. And how he got the money to pay for it made the whole thing even worse.
Two years later, the damn thing still looks like a piece of shit with its mismatching doors, a dented in hood, and an engine that backfires as the car bounces over a speed bump.
“Shit.” I skitter back toward the door. “I don’t want to fucking deal with this right now.”
“Deal with what?” Tristan assesses my expression then tracks my line of vision to the car. “Wait, is that—”
I snatch hold of Tristan’s hand and haul him back with me as I hurry inside The Vibe. Darkness blankets the bar, but I don’t bother turning the lights on. I drop my purse to the floor, race to the counter, and grab the keys from the drawer near the register. Then I run back for the door, stumbling over a barstool in the process.
“Jesus, Avery,” Tristan says in horror as I limp the rest of the way there. “Are you okay?”
I fumble to get the key in the lock, only breathing again when I hear the deadbolt click. Panting, I stare out the door as the car stops in front of the building, backfiring again. The windows are rolled down and the music is cranked up so loudly the window to the side of me vibrates.
“Just go away. Just go away,” I chant under my breath.
The driver’s side door swings open and then Conner climbs out. He has a cigarette between his lips, is wearing a plaid shirt over a white tank top, and his hair is cropped short. He looks almost like he did toward the end of our marriage except he might be a little bit heavier now. What that means, I have no clue, nor do I care.
My heart slams agonizingly against the inside of my chest as Conner tips his head back and looks up at the neon sign on top of The Vibe. He shuts the door then drops the cigarette to the ground and starts around the car.
“Please get back in your car. Please. Please. Please,” I murmur, balling my hands into fists as I begin to shake and shiver.
Tristan suddenly places a hand on my shoulder. Not only do I feel the warmth and calmness, but I drown in it.
“Avery,” Tristan utters softly, his fingers drawing a delicate path up and down my arm. “God, you’re shivering.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, like it somehow situation better. My fear of my ex-husband is humiliating, way more than being up on a bar, dancing in front of people.
“Don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. Nothing he does is your fault.” His hand glides up to my shoulder, and he gently pulls on me, trying to draw me away from the window. “And he can’t get in here, so let’s just go back to the bar and wait until he leaves.”
“I need to call the police,” I mumble as Conner turns away from the building and ducks his head to say something to a guy sitting in the passenger seat. “He’s breaking his restraining order again.”
Tristan begins tracing soothing circles on the nape of my neck as he steers me away from the door. “We can do that, but after we get you away from the door.”
I take one final look at Conner then tear my attention away from him. Not daring to meet Tristan’s gaze, I wiggle my arm from his grasp and scurry behind the bar while retrieving my phone from my purse.