Page 57 of Sacrifice
“She said she wanted me to not get tied up in the rich man’s game. To be a simple man. To find a woman to love, a job I didn’t hate, and to enjoy the nice things in life. And by nice things she didn’t mean cars and watches.”
I chuckle and look at Julia. “That was it for me. You were in the other room with Gage. When she said that, I got pissed. I don’t remember what I said to her, exactly, but it had something to do with her not understanding who I was. That she liked Gage better than me and was rubbing it in my face that I lost you.” I shrug, as if that can explain things. “I kissed her again and left. And then a few months later when Gage called and said I needed to come home . . .”
I stop talking. I don’t know what to say.
“Were you going to come?”
“I was young,” I say, sadly. “I didn’t really think it was that serious. I don’t know, maybe I was just butt-hurt. But I should’ve gotten on a plane that night. I should’ve been here. But I didn’t and I wasn’t.”
“Were you going to come?” she whispers again, hopefully this time.
“No.”
She looks shocked, her mouth dropping open. It’s what I expect. “I’m not Gage, Jules. I didn’t know how to deal with everything . . .”
I sit down again and take a deep breath. “I called her the night before she died. Did Gage tell you that?”
Her eyebrows sink together as she shakes her head.
“I did. I still don’t think I really thought she’d die, but we talked. Not one of those ‘say everything you wanna say’ talks, but we did have a conversation. I just . . . I know I didn’t handle that right. I’ve not handled a lot of things right . . .”
The current in the room shifts and I know she feels it. She just looks at me.
“I’m sorry, Jules.”
“For what?” she breathes.
“I’ve not handled things right with you either.”
“Crew—”
“No, hear me out. I told you I wasn’t going to Minnesota and then basically just left you. I shouldn’t have been surprised that you moved on.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“No, it does,” she says, setting the bowl down. “I didn’t just hookup with Gage as soon as you left, Crew.”
I roll my head, my neck now throbbing. Regardless of what she says, this doesn’t matter. It’s done. And I don’t even think I want to hear it.
“When you left, yeah, I was devastated. But even then, I knew I couldn’t expect you to walk away from a scholarship like that. I wasn’t stupid. I just went to school and got through each day and hoped you’d come back. Then one night . . .”
She presses her lips together. She shakes her head, her ebony hair swishing across her shoulders.
“One night, things got bad at home. My parents had been drinking, as usual, but they started fighting. Bad. I locked my bedroom door at one point because things were getting crazy. Things started busting around the house and before I knew it, my dad was banging on my door.
“I finally open it, afraid he was going to bust it down,” she says weakly, “and he barges in. He was yelling, asking me something but I couldn’t understand him through the slur. My mom was behind him, yelling her own slew of things, and I was trying to make sense of it. I just couldn’t, Crew. I didn’t know what they were even talking about. I tried to appease them, to just say yes or no, depending . . .” She swallows hard. Her eyes refuse to meet mine. “He grabbed me across the throat and slammed me against a wall—”
“He did fucking what?” I roar, leaping out of my chair. “How in the fuck did I not know this? That’s not what you guys said.”
“You didn’t answer your phone,” she whispers, her face to the floor. “And then, I’m sure Gage gave you an easier explanation so you wouldn’t go crazy.”
I groan, knowing I should never have left her with them. I wish I could punch myself, tear myself apart for what I’ve done. I’ve regretted it a million times, second-guessed my decision a million times, but it was worse than I ever fucking dreamed.
“Were you okay?”
“Yeah. Mostly. He screamed at me and eventually got sidetracked by my mother yelling and I slipped out the door. I ran down to the gas station. I didn’t even have shoes on.” She laughs sadly. “The lady at the counter let me use the phone . . . I didn’t even know who to call.”
