Page 33 of Shattered

The bar Jason brought me to is a little hole-in-the-wall, mostly known to locals and underage college students. Jason is a month shy of turning twenty-two, but he began coming here when he first started college and continued coming after he dropped out. He doesn’t talk about that part of his life much, but I suspect the same kids who harassed him in high school because of Jennifer and Jacob also harassed him in college. Then there was the non-stop partying that didn't help.

When he gives me that look—the one only a disapproving big brother can give—I lift the glass to my lips and drink the whole thing down before slamming it onto the high-top table.

“You’re seriously trying to use that face on me? I’m twenty, Jason, and correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you start doing drugs and drinking at seventeen?”

A dark look crosses his face. He hates it when I bring up anything to do with drugs or the fact I know that he’s probably still doing them on occasion. “Neil shouldn’t have even told you about that.”

The sudden mention of Neilix has me reeling back a fraction as memories from years ago flood my mind. Memories that, no matter how hard I’ve tried to forget or bury, have never been too far under the surface of my thoughts. It doesn’t help that I still live in the town we grew up in and have the reminder of our past in my face daily.

And yes, if it weren’t for Neilix unknowingly informing me, I probably wouldn’t have known about Jason’s drug use, and perhaps I’d still be oblivious to it. And probably my parents, since I’m the one who told them about it.

“He was worried about you,” I tell him, because it’s the truth.

“You’re defending him now?”

The subject of Neilix doesn’t come up often, but whenever it does, Jason always gets a little defensive. But I think it has more to do with the guilt he feels about what went down and the unresolved feelings he has about it than actually being angry at him.

I shake my head, watching the nearby game of pool. “No. But he was worried. There’s no denying that.”

Jason only grunts in response.

A group of guys cheer at the game playing on one of the TVs and my attention is briefly drawn to them, absently watching the crowd while my mind turns.

“He didn’t know it was me, Jason,” I remind him, returning to the conversation.

“You’re still on that?” he jokes, as if the conversation was from an hour ago, and not a minute.

“It’s never sat right with me, you know that.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet against the sounds of the other patrons, but his posture and body language turn agitated like I’ve hit a nerve, and he jabs a hand into his hair. “You know I was pulling away from everyone at that time.”

I run a finger around the edge of my glass. “I do. And that’s why I think you should reach out to him, maybe try to patch things up.”

A thick eyebrow inches up. “Even after what he did to you?”

That old familiar pain wraps itself around my heart, but it doesn’t squeeze as tightly as it used to. It doesn’t hurt as much. There is still some remaining anger, and maybe it will always be there.

I’ve been trying to get over him for the past few years. You’d think the feelings of a young teenager wouldn’t linger, especially after what happened. But they have, and I’m not sure when they will go away.

Did he cheat on me? Technically, no. We weren’t officially together when we were texting, and he ended whatever was going on with us when we were in the bathroom.

But I still felt betrayed.

“How’s work?” I ask, changing the subject. Jason looks away, lifting the beer to his lips, which is something he does when he’s trying to avoid telling me something. “Wait. What happened?” When more seconds pass and he keeps the beer lifted to his mouth, I pull his arm down. “Jason.”

Shaking my hand away, he turns his whole body to face the pool tables instead of me. “It was just a little mishap. It’s all good.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s fine. Really.”

A sigh passes my lips. “Did you lose your job again?”

“No. I said it’s fine.”

I want to push and ask what happened, but it’s almost always been the same thing in the past. He partied too hard the night before and ended up missing work, or he turned up still drunk or high. That, or he got into a fight and ended up being treated for his injuries when he was supposed to be working.

I’ve tried talking to him about it in the past, but he always just tells me he’s fine, or it was a one-off thing, or he’ll get pissed and avoid me.

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