Monica Murphy - Three Broken Promises

“Keep walking. Nothing to see here,” Jen calls after her as the girl disappears back into the bar. Then she releases her hold on me immediately, stepping away, and I feel the loss keenly. “God. Don’t you ever get sick of that?”

“Sick of what? Women hitting on me?” I once lived for that shit every single night. Flirting, drinking, being surrounded by beautiful women—they all helped me forget what I’d done. How I disappointed an entire family. How I abandoned my best friend and he ended up dead. How I let this girl in front of me down most of all.

My fault. All of it.

“Yes.” She sounds irritated, but she looks hot. The simple black dress she wears accentuates her curves, stops about mid-thigh, and showcases those endless legs of hers. Legs I’d like to have naked. I imagine gripping her slender thighs and wrapping them around my hips. “She’s been circling you for the last twenty minutes like she’s a shark and you’re blood in the water.”

I hadn’t noticed. Am I a dick for liking that Jen had? This hint of a jealous streak is new. I wish I knew what spurred it on. “I would’ve taken care of her.”

“By what? Inviting her back to the house?”

Glancing around, I’m thankful no one’s left in the restaurant. The remaining customers have moved on into the bar. I don’t need anyone witnessing this exchange, especially my employees. The rumor mill at The District is bad enough. Jen and I don’t need to add fuel to the fire. They already talk about us. Wondering what the heck we’re doing, if we’re together, if we’re not. The constant speculation is exhausting.

“I don’t do that. Not when you’re there,” I finally say, my gaze meeting hers once more. “Since when do you care, anyway?”

Wrong thing to say. She looks ready to blow up—all over me. “So you would’ve brought her back to the house if I wasn’t there? Is that what you’re saying? God, you’re such an ass,” she mutters as she stalks off.

I follow her, my gaze zeroing in on the back of her head. Her long brown hair is down tonight, but when she tosses her head I see the edge of a white bandage peeking out between the thick, silky strands. “What happened to you?”

She glances over her shoulder with a withering stare. “What are you talking about?”

“The bandage.” I grab hold of her arm and stop her in her tracks. She almost stumbles, what with the high heels she’s wearing, and I grip her tighter to keep her upright. “Did you hurt yourself?”

She reaches for her neck with her free hand, rubbing the back of it self-consciously, a little frown wrinkling her brows. “I, uh . . . it’s nothing.”

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I block her from ditching me. I know that look. She’s ready to run. Something she’s real good at. “You’re hiding something from me.”

“I really don’t want to do this here.” She blows out a harsh breath, and I wonder what the hell she’s talking about. “Can’t we talk about this when we get home?”

“Talk about what?” I’m confused. Where is she going with this?

Jen yanks out of my hold and throws her arms up in the air, frustration written all over her beautiful face. “Fine. Let’s do this. I need to give my notice, Colin. I’m quitting.”

Colin

“Quitting? What the fuck are you talking about?” I’m yelling. I notice her wince and I clamp my lips shut, feeling like a jackass. But her words send me reeling, and I’m trying my best to rein myself in.

Jen can’t quit. She’s worked here almost a year. She’s one of my best waitresses. This place, specifically the bar, runs more smoothly when she’s here.

But that’s not why I don’t want her to leave.

“I can’t stay here anymore.” Jen glances around the empty restaurant, her fingers curling around the back of her neck, playing with the edge of the mysterious bandage. “Consider this my generous four-week notice. That should give you plenty of time to replace me.”

Doesn’t she know she’s irreplaceable? “Did you find another job?” It’s the only explanation. And if she hated working here that much, I wish she would have told me. I could have done something to make it better for her here.

But what? What more can I do?

Slowly she shakes her head. “I’m leaving.”

What the hell? “Going back home, then?” I find it hard to believe, but maybe she’s finally ready to see her mom and dad after everything that’s happened, after she ran away. She’s never gone back and I know they miss her. Her mom has called me more than once asking about her. I know they’ve talked but it’s rare, and that’s on Jen’s part. Maybe she’s had a change of heart.

There’s really no other explanation for her leaving. At least in my mind.

“No.” She spits the word out as if it were poison and drops her hand from her neck, straightening her shoulders. “I refuse to go back home. I’m moving to Sacramento.”

“Sacramento? Are you kidding me? Why?” I’m at a loss. I can’t figure out her motive, why she wants to leave, and what the hell Sacramento has to offer that’s so much goddamn better than what I can give her.

“I need a change of pace, okay? I’m tired of the small-town thing. I run into the same people again and again. Most of them I don’t want to see anyway.” She starts to walk past me. “We so shouldn’t be having this conversation here.”

I grab her again, stopping her progress. Curling my fingers tight around her upper arm, I pull her in close, invading her space. Her scent fills my head, like an exotic bloom that permeates the air, fragrant and heavy. Intoxicating. My gaze drops to her mouth, and I’m momentarily transfixed as she sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip.

Fuck. This is pure torture. Having her close. Arguing with her where anyone could see us. Acting like lovers in the middle of a heated discussion . . .

We pretend we don’t really matter to each other, but it’s time for me to be honest with myself. She’s so immersed in my world, I can’t imagine her out of it.

I don’t want to imagine her out of it.

“Where else do you suggest we have this conversation, then?” I ask, keeping my voice low and as even as possible. While deep inside, I want to rage and yell and throw shit.

Jen can’t leave me. What she’s saying, I can’t even begin to comprehend.

“Your house?” She rolls her eyes and actually laughs. “Not that we ever really talk there, though, do we? We never really talk anywhere.”

Letting her go, I step away from her, needing the distance. She’s right. Our situation is . . . weird. I take care of her because of my own twisted sense of guilt, and she stays with me because where else is she going to go? I know she appreciates all I’ve done for her. We keep our linked past a secret from the other employees at the restaurant with the exception of Fable. Jen confessed our long connection months ago.

At first, I was mad that Jen told her about our shared history. Then I got over it. I like Fable. She’s troubled—was extremely troubled when I first hired her, but she’s come out of her shell, and she and Jen are now best friends. I’ve even become somewhat friends with her boyfriend. Hell, the four of us have gone out to dinner together once or twice, like we’re on a double date or something.

Stupid that I can keep what’s between Jen and me so casual, so . . . easy, but I can’t turn it into something real. Something true. I’m just too damn afraid to make a move for fear I’ll ruin it.

Considering I’ve ruined a few things in my personal life, it’s a legitimate fear.

“You really want to talk when we get home? We’ll talk,” I finally suggest.

Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Whatever you want, all you have to do is ask.” I spread my arms wide, then let them drop to my sides. She’s watching me with those dark, fathomless eyes, taking me in, making me want to squirm. She’s tall in the heels, almost eye level with me, and I’m a solid six-one.

“Whatever I want, you’ll give me.” It’s a statement, not a question, and I wonder at it.

“It’s yours,” I agree. “When have I ever denied you anything?”

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You deny me almost every day of your life.”

I scratch the back of my head, puzzled. She means something else, I know it, but I can’t figure out what. Plus, I’m tired as fuck and not in the mood for a bunch of games, not that Jen is a game player. But she’s being evasive. Mysterious. Trying to pull a fast one on me, I’m sure.

“Make your request. I’ll do my best to accommodate you.” I grimace the moment the words come out. I sound like a boss, which I am.

A tiny smile curves her lips. “All right, then. Let me go. Let me do this, Colin. I can’t be dependent on you forever.”

Realization washes over me, making me feel like a fool. “Is that the problem? That you feel bad because I help you out? You’re never a burden, Jen. You know this.”

“No, I don’t know, but that’s not the point.” Sighing, her smile turns sad. “I appreciate your help. More than anything, I appreciate how you pulled me out of a bad situation before it could’ve become . . . a lot worse. You saved me.”

“It was the least I could do.” A major understatement. If I couldn’t save her brother, my best friend, then I could at least save his baby sister.

“And I’m forever grateful to you for it. Really. But I gotta admit, I’m tired of being saved by you. Of being the problem you’re constantly trying to solve. I want to leave. I need my freedom to try something new and explore other options. Staying here in this stupid small town doing the same thing day in and day out won’t solve my problems.”