Page 71 of The Other One

My phone rings next to me, and honestly, I have no desire to look at the screen. I don’t want to hear from Jackson yet. I’ll get around to talking to him, but I’m just not in a place where I can have a rational conversation. This was too much, too fast. We didn’t even have a solid foundation, or any foundation at all. Aside from great sex and fun banter, I can’t think of anything that tethers us to one another.

The phone stops ringing, and a text notification dings. Dammit. I’ll never get any relaxation if my phone keeps going off. I check the screen and see Julia’s name.

Julia: Hey girl! Just checking in with you and making sure everything is ok. Call me when you have a chance.

Now I feel like an asshole. Instead of texting her, I dial her number.

“Hey, I didn’t mean you had to call right away,” she says in greeting.

“I know, I just felt like an ass because I was avoiding Jackson, so I didn’t look at my screen. Plus, we haven’t talked in a couple days.”

The one good thing about my trip to Charleston was reconnecting with Julia on a level we haven’t been on in a long while. Through the years, our relationship has dwindled to occasional texts or comments on social media posts, but nothing like it was growing up. Of course, spending time with her in Charleston, was like no time had passed, and we fell back into the kind of friendship we always had. I’ll never take that, or her, for granted again. Those kinds of people are few and far between.

“Doesn’t sound like anything has improved on the Jackson front,” she says.

“It’s a mess. Turns out he was drugged,fuckingdrugged, at Cesily’s wedding. Then Cesily called me to supposedly apologize, but really it was to get my schedule so Davis could ambush me in another ridiculous attempt to win me back.“ This bath is quickly becoming the opposite of relaxing. “Then the prick shows up at the charity event I was covering and admitted to Jackson and me that he was the one who drugged him. Julia, it was a shit show.” Nope, doesn’t sound any less preposterous when I say it out loud.

“Nooo,“ she drawls out.

“Yup,” I reply, popping thepfor emphasis.

“Well shit, girl, what did you do?”

“Told Davis to go fuck himself, then got the hell out of Dodge. It was a work event, for God’s sake. I can’t take much more of the drama. I just got back from vacation, and I feel like I need another one. How is this my life?” I groan out.

“My door is always open to you if you need some time to decompress. It’s been a crazy couple weeks for you,” Julia offers.

I hum in agreement, and the idea quickly takes root in my brain. I don’t have anything holding me here except the paper, and I have a ton of vacation time saved up. Considering I’ve barely taken any in the last five years except to go to the cabin over the holidays and my sister’s wedding, Gus can’t balk too much if I take off for a bit. This might be the answer to my problems. I get away for a while, turn my phone off and decide what to do about this whole Jackson situation. And I get to spend some more time with Julia. Sounds like a win-win to me.

“You know what, I think I will come down. But just don’t tell anyone I’m coming. I would rather not have to explain to anyone why I’m not staying with my parents.” Shit, at this point, I don’t think my mother would exactly welcome me with open arms after our last conversation. And I sure as shit don’t want Cesily to know. She’ll probably blab it to Davis.

“That’s great,” Julia exclaims. “When do you want to come?”

I groan into the phone. “Is tomorrow too soon?” I say, half joking.

“Perfect. I’ll have the guest room ready. Text me your flight info and I’ll pick you up.”

I want to cry in relief. I’m not a runner. Fighting is like my default setting or something, but it can get exhausting sometimes. This is too much all at once for anyone to handle. Even the strongest person needs a break every now and then, and fuck, I’ve been strong for so damn long. I’m exhausted.

“I love you, Julia. Thank you for being my friend.” It may be the wine or the onslaught of emotions I’ve had to deal with the last couple days, but I am feeling all kinds of sappy and grateful right now.

“You got it. See you tomorrow.”

We say our goodbyes, and I immediately use my phone to book a ticket back to Charleston. An early morning flight is available. Perfect. Less of a chance of Jackson tracking me down.

Ticket booked, I dial Kasey’s number to tell her about my sudden but much needed escape from all this craziness.

“Abigail, oh my gosh, are you okay? I didn’t see you leave after Jackson punched Davis.”

What. The. Hell.

“Jackson punched someone? Is he okay? Not Davis,” I clarify. “I don’t give a shit about him, but is Jackson okay?” It sounds like the situation got a lot more serious after I left.

“I think he’s fine. Donovan went to the police station,” Kasey answers.

“The police station?” I exclaim, quickly sitting up and sloshing water over the side. “Was he arrested?”

“No, no. The mayor just didn’t want to look like he was playing favorites, but the chief is an old family friend, so as far as I know, he made sure no charges were pressed. Donovan said Jackson has proof he was drugged, and your ex admitted to it in front of everyone. Good thing everyone at these events likes to eavesdrop on everyone else.” She chuckles, but I can’t find the humor in it just yet. This night just keeps getting better and better.

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