Page 21 of Wasted Memories
“Ice, Craig. I need ice.” I heard Stella say. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. Moments later, Stella was holding a plastic baggie filled with ice to my burning cheek.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Wesley and Jett. I couldn’t believe what just happened, that my boyfriend slapped me in front of a bar full of people. And I thought I was embarrassed before?
“Get the fuck off of me!” Jett yelled, his hand smacking against the wall.
“I’m not letting you touch her again,” Wesley seethed through gritted teeth.
Jett tried to grab Wesley’s shirt, but Brendt ran over, grabbing Jett’s other arm before he could get ahold of him. “You need to calm the fuck down. Realize what you just fucking did.”
This was only going to get worse if I didn’t get him home. Stella tried to follow me with the ice as I slowly walked over to them. I felt like I was in a trance, having some sort of out-of-body experience. Was this what shock felt like?
“Emerson, don’t come over here,” Wesley warned.
I stopped a few feet behind them. “He didn’t mean it. I just need to get him home.” My voice was trembling as I tried to get the words out.
Wesley was looking at me with concern in his eyes as he kept Jett pinned against the wall. “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go home alone with him.”
“I’ll go with them,” Brendt offered. “I’ll make sure they get home okay.”
Wesley didn’t acknowledge what Brendt said. He kept his eyes trained on me. I could see a thousand things racing through his head right now. He probably thought this happened all the time, but this wasn't the Jett I loved. He never behaved like this. I didn't know what got into him, but I did know I didn’t want to be in this bar any longer. I needed to get us home.
Jett calmed down enough to where Wesley wasn’t having to use force to keep him pinned. I gave Wesley a pleading look, trying to keep him from making this a bigger deal than it had to be. I could tell he wasn’t going to let it go easily. He eventually backed off of Jett, keeping his eyes on me as he spoke to him. “You going to apologize to her?”
Jett brushed his hands on the front of his shirt, turning to face me. I could tell he was seeing red as he stared me down. He’d blame me for this. Jett had a hard time taking ownership of his actions when he was this inebriated.
A lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t cry here, not in front of everyone. It was already bad enough.
I needed air.
I spun around and aimed for the exit, bursting through the bar door. I walked to the middle of the parking lot before I bent over, setting my hands on my knees and inhaling deeply to keep the anxiety at bay. I hadn’t realized I was suffocating until the cool air hit my lungs.
Behind me, the door to the bar opened. Footsteps sounded beside me before the door could swing shut.
“Emerson.” Wesley didn’t touch me, he just stood there, and for some reason, his presence calmed me. “I know you’re not okay, so I’m not going to ask that. But I am going to ask if he’s put his hands on you before, and I need you to tell me the truth because I can’t let you get in that truck until I know the answer.” I could see Wesley’s breath coming out in little clouds as he spoke.
I straightened, pulling my hand through my hair. I blinked away the ebbing tears. “No. He’s never done that before," I lied. The dark corners of my mind held some of the memories with Jett that I'd chosen to push away and tried to forget.
Wesley stared at me, his lips pursed so tightly I thought he might bite them clean off. He shook his head. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“You don’t know me, Wesley. You didn’t need to get involved.”
“Are you serious? You think I’d just stand by and be okay with any guy doing that, not just to you but to any woman?” He must’ve not realized he was raising his voice because he took a deep breath, regaining his composure. “I may not know you well, but I couldn’t stand there and not do anything. The look you have in your eyes, Em, you shouldn’teverfeel like that. You shouldn't be standing in a fucking bar parking lot having a goddamn panic attack because of your boyfriend."
“I know.” I was burnt out, defeated, and overly exhausted. I didn’t have the energy to keep going tonight. “I just need him in the truck so I can leave.”
His gaze landed on my cheek, and I hated the look in his eyes. He nodded once and turned to head back to the bar. Before he reached the door, he paused. “I’m giving you my number.”
“What? Why?” That was the absolute last thing I needed right now.
“If he ever does anything like that again, I want you to call me.”
“He’s not going to do it again. I told you he’s never done this before.” My cheek was throbbing where I knew a bruise was probably already forming. I hoped makeup would cover it well enough for work. If only makeup could cover the mental toll this took on me, too.
“If he did it once, he’ll do it again. I just hope I’m wrong.”
***
I sat in silence again, but this was a whole different kind of silence than it was an hour ago.
