When I Was Theirs

34. Jared

34

Jared

I linger outside the bar for a while.

My fingers itch for a cigarette, but I quit a year ago. As soon as Ben—

I push those thoughts down deep before steeling myself and walking in, my hand wrapped around the handle of my battered guitar case.

I spot Emilia immediately, but my eyes slide away, sweeping over the stage in the corner before I return to examine it more closely. A band is already performing, the beat of the punk music filling me as I take my time looking around. The bar stretches down the side of the narrow space, several booths opposite filled with people drinking. The floor beneath me is slightly sticky, but there’s a decent vibe to the place.

She knows I’m here. I can see her looking.

I can hear the girls she’s serving, too.

They giggle beside me as I move up to wait for her to be free. Emilia keeps her head down, her lips pressed into a line as she finishes up the order before turning to me. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

I’m not sure if she’s pleased or not. “It’s getting colder. Busking isn’t great fun in the winter. I like my fingers attached to my hand.”

“Fair enough.” She points over her shoulder. “Adrian will be in his office. I’ll go and get him. You want a beer while you wait?”

Something stronger, ideally. It won’t be my first drink of the day. But I nod. “Sounds good.”

I try to slip her some cash, but she shakes her head. “On the house. I’ll be back.”

Adrian is a greasy-haired prick with an attitude to match. But he nods at the band. “Jump on after these, and we’ll see what you can do. Got an early evening spot available, five nights a week. Weekends are mandatory and the pay is shit. Cash in hand.”

Of course it is . “No problem.”

Sipping at my beer, I keep an eye on Emilia as she works.

She looks slightly better than she did the last time I saw her. But…tired. Heavy. As if the world is weighing her down.

That makes both of us.

I watch as she serves customer after customer, not stopping. Her smile never changes, polite and professional but nothing more. And it never reaches her eyes, either.

Her dark green dress covers her to her neck, thick black tights on her legs with a pair of chunky boots, tightly laced. She hands change to someone, wavy caramel hair falling away from her face and showing the guy her scar. He stares at it until she turns away, and my jaw tightens.

Childhood accident, if I had to guess. The left side of her face is mainly raised, mottled skin, pink and white that travels down her neckline and into her dress.

I frown down at my empty bottle.

None of my business.

It’s a relief to get up on stage, to the mic the shaggy-haired singer from the previous band lets me borrow once I tell him I’m trying out for a spot. But even here, even as my fingers fly over the strings of my guitar with easy familiarity, she draws my eye.

This was a bad fucking idea, Jared.

She’s watching me too, ignoring the older guy waiting not so patiently for his beer. Our gazes collide, bounce away.

Rinse and repeat.

She pauses again during a break in the queue, her elbows leaning on the bar as I sing. One of the assholes I saw earlier breaks away from the crowd, leaning in to murmur something to her. Emilia frowns, shifting away from him and shaking her head.

And I miss a fucking note.

I pull it back, my eyes moving away from her and staying away until I’m done.

“Decent,” Adrian admits when I jump down, yanking my strap over my head. Last orders were called a while ago, Emilia’s co-worker ringing a small bell to rumbles of disappointment and a final wave of customers. “You want the gig, it’s yours.”

I tap my fingers on the bar in a rhythm, considering. “I want it.”

She’s listening as she wipes down the bar.

“You do this full time?” Adrian buries a finger in his ear and digs around in it like he’s searching for buried treasure. “Sometimes we have other slots, last minute.”

I make a valiant effort at withholding my revulsion, stepping back until I’m safely out of the flicking zone. “Yeah. I’m a guitar tutor, but I’m pretty flexible.”

Although I haven’t taken on a student in six months. Haven’t even bothered advertising here.

“Good.” He grunts as he pulls himself off the bar stool. “See you tomorrow, Ed.”

“It’s Jared.”

“Whatever.” He waves a hand over his shoulder before he disappears, and I hear a soft snort behind me.

“Want another beer, Ed?”

Yes.

That’s my problem.

I want more than one. Give me twenty. Give me enough so I don’t have to feel anything.

Give me enough to blur my brother’s face from my mind.

And the face of the girl in front of me. She holds a bottle up in question, and I reach out for it. When our fingers brush, she recoils. Her recovery is smooth enough, but I’m not fooled. Emilia avoids my eyes as she begins pouring the overflow trays away. “Ignore Adrian. We do.”

She looks to her co-worker for agreement, but the older woman is staring into space. Emilia flicks her eyes to me before she leans in. I turn away, but I still hear her whisper.

“Go home. I’ll finish up.”

There’s a murmured disagreement, before the woman disappears and returns clutching a bag. “Thanks, Emmy.”

“No worries.” She doesn’t smile. Instead, her teeth sink into her lower lip, worrying at the skin. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?”

I watch the bar as the woman leaves. A few of the guys I eyeballed earlier are still lingering. They sneak glances toward the bar, and I lock eyes with the one who spoke to Emilia earlier. “You always left to clean up by yourself?”

“Extenuating circumstances.” Her voice is cool. “You done with that beer? I’m kicking out now.”

Ouch . “How are you getting home?”

Something about my words makes her pale. Her tone is frigid when she responds. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

I click my tongue. “Fair enough.”

Handing over my empty bottle, I nod at her and swing the orange strap of my guitar case over my back, securing it in place. “See you tomorrow, I guess.”

She barely looks at me. “Yeah.”

I’m halfway down the block when I slow.

For fucks’ sake.

She doesn’t want your help. She made that more than fucking clear.

But it feels like the sky might open up at any moment. It’s pitch black.

And I really didn’t like the look of those guys.

I pinch the skin between my eyes in irritation. “Go home, asshole.”

Emilia Marsters is none of my damn business. A fact she made more than clear this evening.

But my feet are already turning, pushing me back toward The Setlist.

I’m not enough of an idiot to risk walking back inside. But I lean against the wall, the darkness more than enough to hide me as the last of the punters come stumbling out.

One of them nudges his friend. “I’m gonna wait for her. Reckon she’d be well up for it.”

“You’ll have to pull the stick out of her ass first.”

“Definitely. Better than looking at her face.”

They all snicker, falling into each other.

The rush of blood, the pounding in my ears overshadows the sound of their laughter. Like a pack of fucking jackals, full of self-importance. Vile words and worse intent.

All of it directed at Emilia.

Every nerve in my body is tense as I step forward. They don’t even notice me, not until the guy that made a joke about her face begins to struggle. My hand grips his throat from behind as I drag him back.

“What the fuck?”

“Jesus—,”

They don’t even bother attacking. They just gawk at me, gape at their choking friend as my hand tightens.

But they wouldn’t. They prefer easier prey, and I’m one hundred percent certain that the look on my face is enough to warn them not to take a single goddamned step in my direction.

I’m in the mood to draw blood.

His hands claw at my wrist, digging into my arm.

“Your evening is done,” I say coldly to the rest of them. “Fuck off. Now.”

They don’t even blink before they’re gone, abandoning their friend without looking back. He wheezes as I turn, throwing him against the wall. His head bounces off the brickwork with an audible thud before I push him back, my hand wrapping around his throat again.

“You don’t come back here,” I keep my voice low. “I see you, I’ll put your head through a fucking window and call it decoration. I see you near her , and I will kill you. Nod if you understand.”

I release him just enough to be able to jerk his head before I tighten my grip again. Just in case the message wasn’t clear.

He hits the ground like a sack of shit. I deliver a kick to his ribs for good measure. “Now you can fuck off, too.”

I relish every pathetic fucking whimper that slips from his mouth as he scrambles to his feet and staggers off after his friends.

My breathing heavy, I lean back against the wall and wait for the adrenaline to clear. Rain starts to fall, first in a light mist that coats my skin with cool refreshment before turning heavier. Harder, sharper drops splatter against me, soaking my shirt through in seconds as the sky turns into a downpour.

Fucking perfect.

But the sky offers more protection when the door opens a few minutes later, light spilling out before it shuts off again. I squint, trying to make out who it is, before she illuminates in a soft glow.

She made another umbrella.

This one looks similar to the one she left on Ben’s grave, lights woven around it. Quirky.

Emilia doesn’t even turn around. Her eyes on the floor, she walks away, one hand buried in her pocket and the other holding that damn umbrella.

Like a signal, beckoning every fucking asshole to her. And she pays no attention to her surroundings whatsoever.

Jesus.

I wait until she’s a safe distance away before following. The splash of my soaking wet boots in the puddles don’t register against the heaviness of the rain as we head down the sidewalk toward her apartment.

Her unsafe apartment.

Hey, Benny. Your girl is a walking fucking liability.

Gritting my teeth, I keep following. I’m irritated as hell with her, but not enough to scare her half to death in the dark. She heads down a road lined with run-down warehouses on each side.

No light. No windows. No people.

No fucking regard for her own safety.

I hang back, ready to run like hell as soon as she turns the corner to catch up.

It means that I have a perfect view as she stops. Folding my arms, I glare at her silently, willing her to pick up on my silent signal and haul her ass home.

But she—

What the hell is she doing now ?

Emilia lowers her umbrella until it hangs at her side, lifting her face to the pelting rain. It soaks her through in seconds, her hair sticking to her skin.

Then she looks down, to the umbrella at her side. She twists it so the canopy twirls in her hand.

And then she spins, dragging the umbrella around her to create a wide circle of light.

Again.

And again.

Baffled, I run my hand down my face.

Because instead of going home where it’s safe, Emilia is dancing .

In the fucking icy-cold rain.

Down a deserted street in the dark.

She spins over and over again, her feet moving faster. She jumps into puddles, kicking her feet up so water sprays out in wide arcs, covering her from head to toe.

Resigning myself to waiting out whatever the hell she thinks she’s doing, I lean against the wall and fold my arms.

And I watch.

Despite myself, I feel the edges of my lips creep up.

But then her boot catches on something. A rock, maybe. Or a jagged edge in the tarmac.

I inhale as she hits the ground hard, her knees taking the brunt of the fall, taking a step forward before I yank myself back.

Come on , I will her. My fists clench. Get up, Emilia.

Her head hangs down, her hands on the wet road.

If she’s hurt herself—

I burst out from my hiding place before I can think better of it, stalking down the road.

As I get closer, I slow.

She’s sobbing .

Gut-wrenching, deep sobs pulled from low in her chest as she folds over herself, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Emilia cries as if her heart is broken.

She cries the way I wish I could.

I stop behind her, indecision keeping me in place.

“Emilia.” My voice is low, rough. She doesn’t hear me, so I say it again, my voice still gravelly. “Emilia!”

Her cry cuts off in a choked, fearful gasp as she turns, pulling herself backward. “ Don’t —,”

“It’s me.” I step closer, pulling off my hat and holding out my hand. “It’s Jared.”

She stares at me through the rain, blinking the water from her widening eyes. They’re smudged with dark, her mascara running down her face. “Jared? What the hell – were you following me?”

Something about her anger brings my own rising up, even though I try to stop it. “You’re going to get yourself killed. You may as well write a fucking sign over your head! What the hell were you thinking?”

She stumbles to her feet, a small, pained sound slipping from her lips. My eyes drop to her knees. To the torn, bloody skin underneath her ruined tights before they lift to her face. She looks furious. “I told you, I don’t need a babysitter.”

My laugh is rough as I gesture at her. “Clearly, you fucking do.”

She swallows, her eyebrows dropping down to scrunch over her eyes. “Go home, Jared.”

“Believe me, I’d love to. As soon as you do.”

Her mouth drops open. “I don’t want you here!”

God, she’s irritating.

I sweep my hand around us. “Can you point out the sign stating this is your property? Because I’m not seeing it.”

Taking a step closer, I glare down at her. “I have better things to do than follow you around because you can’t even take basic safety precautions. Things that involve fucking sleep, and warm clothes.”

Her next words are enunciated, each word punctured with a pause as she tilts her face up, hissing. “I. Didn’t. Ask. You. To. Follow. Me.”

I’m more than ready to meet her anger with my own. “You didn’t. He did.”

Silence.

And then she stumbles back, away from me. Her voice is hoarse, and tiny, and it makes me feel like shit. “What?”

I didn’t mean to tell her that.

I didn’t want her to know.

But something about Emilia Marsters seems to effortlessly unsettle me without even trying.

“What do you mean?” She’s trembling. “Ben asked you to walk me home?”

I loosen a slow breath. “No. To… to keep an eye on you. Because you clearly need it.”

My words turn acerbic, and she glares at me again. But I can see from the skin bunched around her eyes that the words hurt her. “You’re nothing like him.”

Now I’m the one that flinches.

I know.

She sucks in a breath, watching my face. “Jared—,”

“Come on.” I step around her, focusing on keeping my voice even. “Just… let’s go. I can’t leave you out here like this.”

Not with her legs bleeding, and her body shaking, and pain written across every part of her face.

She takes a small step, and her stifled gasp has me turning around. “Can you walk?”

Emilia doesn’t look at me as she nods. “I’m fine.”

Another step, and her eyes scrunch up in a wince. One of the cuts on her knee looks pretty deep.

I stay where I am. “I’ll just carry you. It’ll be faster.”

“Absolutely fucking not.” She shuffles forward, biting down on her lip. Her knee nearly buckles, and I dart forward.

Emilia topples forward into me, my arms wrapping around her to hold her steady.

We both freeze, our bodies pressed together. Emilia’s cheek sits just below my chest. She feels warm despite the rain, her heat soaking through my damp t-shirt.

She smells like watermelon.

Red fucking flag.

I shift, but she leans against me. “Wait. Please.”

I wait. Trying not to think about how well my arms fit around her. How perfectly she fits against me .

She doesn’t do anything but lean against me, her cheek pressed against my chest. My heart thumps, and I wonder if she can hear it.

“Emilia.” My voice sounds gritty. Pained. “Does your leg hurt?”

“A little.” Her voice shakes. “Just give me a second. Please?”

I stare down at the top of her head. “Okay.”

This feels… dangerous. My body feels like it doesn’t know what to do. How to stand. How to breathe.

I swallow.

“Jared?” Emilia whispers.

I try to look at her face. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

There’s no more fight in her. She sounds tired. And scared.

My arms tighten. “You will. Not today, maybe. But there’ll come a point where you look around and realize that everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”

Once, I believed exactly that. When I needed to. When I needed the idea of something better, just around the corner. Now, they taste like a lie.

She loosens an unsteady breath. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Any other advice?”

“Appreciate the little moments.” For a moment, my mind goes somewhere else. But she stiffens, pulling back to look at me.

“Where did you get that… that phrase?”

My brows knit. “My teacher said it once. I liked it, so I started saying it too.”

“To Ben,” she whispers, and I nod slowly.

“Yeah. Sometimes the little moments are all we have.”

Something in her face has changed. She watches me more carefully now. “I’m sorry I said you were nothing like him.”

My arms are still around her. Clearing my throat, I drop them and step away. “Don’t be. You were right.”

Before she can say anything, I gesture. “Grab my arm. I’ll help you.”

She doesn’t argue with me this time. She holds onto me as I walk us slowly toward her apartment.

“Left here,” she murmurs at one point. I nod instead of saying anything.

She doesn’t need to know I’ve been here before.

Not when it doesn’t mean anything.

We reach her door, and she catches me scowling. “The super isn’t great. He’ll get around to it though.”

“Want me to speak to him?”

Her eyebrows raise. “Thanks. But… no. It should be any day.”

Nodding, I pull the door open. “I’ll get you to your door.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for your little stalking habit.” Her umbrella drips water everywhere as she closes it and we step inside. She pulls the strap to hang from her wrist so she can balance using the railing, her other hand gripping my arm as she hops up. “Ben hated me walking home alone too.”

I stare at the trash in the corners. The bare bulb that flickers on and off. “That sounds like him.”

We climb the stairs slowly, until she gestures. “This is mine.”

It takes her a few minutes to open the door, wrestling with the lock and then kicking at the bottom, wincing. “Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

I step back, shoving my hands into my wet pockets. We’ve left a trail of water behind us, both of us soaked. “You’ll be okay?”

“Eventually.” She almost smiles, the light from her apartment illuminating her in the doorway. “Little moments, right?”

Like dancing in the rain.

I clear my throat. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Night.”