I walked to the other end of the bar, as far away from the door as I could, and sat at a corner table that would allow me to see the door and the entire room. A waitress brought me a glass of water, and I ordered a glass of red wine.
And I waited.
For what, I wasn’t sure. But since Paynes Creek PD hadn’t taken the fire and break-in at my property seriously, I would.
The band played a couple more songs, then took a break.
As I sipped the house wine, which wasn’t terrible, I twirled the matchbook in my fingers and studied the faces of the few people who entered. But by the time I’d drained my wine glass, I’d decided what I was doing was stupid. What did I think I was going to find? An arsonist? Someone easily recognized as a stalker, who had broken into my trailer while I was sleeping, lit some candles, then built a large bonfire? Would I know the person?
I pulled a ten from my pocket and set it under my glass. I was about to stand when I saw him.
He strolled into the lounge and walked right up to the bar like he owned the place. But he didn’t stop there or grab a stool. He lifted a section of the hinged wooden bar top, ducked behind the bar, and started tying an apron around his waist.
Ethan is working at the Spotted Cat?
I sank lower in my seat, wishing I could somehow disappear. My heart thumped so hard in my chest that I placed a hand there to hold it in. I became lightheaded, and a ringing erupted in my ears so loud I thought I might pass out.
I could almost smell him—how I remembered him. Not the smell of cheap cologne that he wore when he went to school or out with friends or other girls, but the smell of soap and fresh country-living air—the way he smelled when he hung out with me at home, playing video games or doing the chores Mom and Eli assigned us.
I took a deep breath and focused on the napkin in front of me. A drop of red wine had created a splotch that looked like a watercolor painting. Another deep breath, and the volume of the ringing lowered slightly. Another, and my heart slowed a little.
When I had calmed enough, I looked up again. There was no way for me to exit the lounge without walking the entire length of the bar. He would see me for sure.
My waitress returned, blocking my view of the bar and of Ethan. “Can I get you anything else, hon?” She was chomping on a piece of gum. Her hair, the color of onyx, was piled high on top of her head in a messy bun. She was probably in her late twenties, though she was aging prematurely; the lines around her eyes and lips told me she was probably a smoker.
When she shifted from one foot to the other, I moved with her, using her as a shield to keep from being seen by Ethan.
“Uh… yes,” I said without really thinking about it, but then I reached a hand to her arm. She tensed. Her wide eyes looked from mine to the hand on her arm. I pulled it back. “Sorry. Is there a back way out of here?”
“Is everything okay, hon? You don’t look so good.”
“I just need to leave. And I don’t want someone to see me.”
“Okaaay,” she said, long and drawn out. “Sure. There’s a back door. Right through there.” She stepped backwards and pointed with a full, outstretched arm at a door right next to the bar. But her movement left me exposed, and drew Ethan’s attention.
He was putting the finishing touches on a dry martini at the end of the bar closest to us, but now he looked up, and our eyes met.
I froze. My breath was knocked out of me with that casual glance in my direction.
As recognition passed through his eyes and over his face, his entire body reacted. He quickly passed the drink across the bar to a customer, then wiped his hands on an apron around his waist.
I took the opportunity to dart from my chair. I ran the length of the bar toward the main exit.
“Faith?”
I heard him call out, but I didn’t stop.
I pushed through the heavy wooden doors and ran straight into a bear of a man. “Oh, sorry,” I said instinctively.
The man grabbed my arms to steady me. “Whoa, there, gorgeous. Where you goin’ in such a hurry?”
“Let go of me!” I pushed past him.
The woman beside him, dressed in a low-cut red dress and reeking of cheap perfume, crossed her arms. “Hey, Little Miss Stuck-up! He was just saving you from falling on your ass.”
I didn’t turn back. I just ran for my car.
“Faith!” Ethan’s voice again. He’d followed me outside.
The woman sighed heavily. “What is wrong with people these days?” she said in frustration.
I fumbled with my keys, trying to get inside my car, but I knew it was too late. When his hands touched my shoulders, I whipped around and backed away. “Don’t touch me.”
He pulled his hands back and stretched them out to his sides. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… What are you doing here?”
I studied the questioning look on his face. He was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt with the Spotted Cat logo in the upper left. His white apron was still tied around his waist, clean and ready for a night of work. And he looked good. Not like a man who had just been released from prison. Which was a stupid thought. What had I expected? A beard? A teardrop tattoo? Scars from fights with other prisoners?
Wind blew a strand of hair across my face, and I shoved it out of the way while turning my head into the cold breeze. My eyes watered, then emptied out. The wetness on my cheeks burned as it dried.
I turned back to him. “I didn’t know you would be here.” Or had I known? When I found that matchbook, had I subconsciously expected, or even hoped, to find Ethan here? Did some part of me want to see him? Had the happy memories overshadowed the ones that had destroyed our relationship forever?
My hands shook. I shivered more than the cool temperature warranted.
“You’re terrified,” he said. “After all this time, you’re scared of me?”
I had no idea what to say. I didn’t want to give this man the satisfaction of thinking I was scared of him. So I squared my shoulders. “I stopped being afraid of you twelve years ago.”
“You’re lying.” He took a step forward. “But I won’t hurt you. I was never the man the prosecutors and the media painted me to be. Surely you of all people know that. And I changed in prison.”
At that, I laughed—a loud, hysterical laugh. “You changed?” I took a step closer to him, attempting to show him that I didn’t fear him—a lie. “Well, me too. Stay away from me, Ethan. I promise to do the same.”
I managed to unlock my car and slip inside even though my hands still shook. Ethan stood silently as I pulled out and turned back toward Paynes Creek.
But when I was a mile down the road, I pulled over into an empty church parking lot and let the tears I’d been holding flow. My entire body shook—an uncontrollable reaction to seeing Ethan up close and way-too-personal for the first time since he was sentenced eleven years ago. I let out a loud frustrated cry and beat a fist against the steering wheel. I had suspected I would see him sooner or later… but I had hoped it would be later.
I remembered how he looked in court every single day of his trial. What he wore, the glances he sent in my direction, those pleading eyes hoping to make contact with mine, the emotion on his face any time testimony didn’t go his way. I remembered how he was continuously beaten down by the prosecutors, even though they never got the satisfaction of cross-examining him directly, as he chose not to testify on his own behalf. He never admitted guilt, but he also never revealed what he’d been doing just before his father and my mother were killed. He never told anyone how it was nearly impossible for him to have carried out the murders the way the prosecutors claimed.