I stop myself short of the office and press a forearm into the wooden doorframe. Resting my head on my arm, I exhale one long, slow breath. I thought she was dangerous when she was younger, but Sofie all grown up is lethal.
The water stops behind me, so I straighten and hunt for a shirt from her suitcase. It’s one of those deals where the top part of the suitcase has a clip that unhooks and hinges down for another layer of storage. I undo the clip and shirts tumble out onto the table. I flip through them, guiltily enjoying the scent of her perfume when my finger slices along the fine edge of a piece of paper.
Cursing, I pull it out from between two T-shirts to set it aside and find a letter addressed to Sofie. From Damian.
What the fuck?
I read it before I even make the conscious decision to do so. I should feel bad about it, but when I process its contents, I move passed guilt and straight into pissed off. In it he writes about their amazing night together. How he can’t wait to see her again now that she’s back in town. I have to read it two more times before I can fully process the words.
Wet feet slap against the wooden floor followed shortly by a soft inhalation. I turn, the world shifting on its axis, to find Sofie wide-eyed and dressed only in a towel. Thrown back ten years, unable to make my thoughts align, unable to catch my breath, unable to think, I growl, “Sofie, what the fuck is this?”
She blinks a few times, otherwise unresponsive to the letter I thrust in her direction. Glancing down at the piece of paper, she knots one hand in the towel at her chest and takes it in her hand. Her eyes flick across the words and then back at me. “It’s a letter,” she says calmly, striding passed me.
My throat constricts with ten years of angry arguments. “Care to explain it?” I say after I collect myself.
She jerks a thin robe from her suitcase with quick, efficient movements and wraps it around her, ditching the towel and cinching the robe up at her waist. “I don’t think it’s any of your business anymore, Jack.”
My vision flashes red. “Don’t fucking play games with me.”
Coolly, she wraps a towel around her damp hair and curls it on the top of her head. “None of this is a game to me.”
God, who is this woman? This cool, disengaged creature who is nothing like the girl I used to know. The evidence of her betrayal shakes in my outstretched hand, a demand, a plea. “Then, please, explain to me why one of my friends is writing you love letters?”
She lifts one slim shoulder, the collar of her robe slipping down to expose one creamy white shoulder. “How the hell am I supposed to know? People do crazier things all the time. That doesn’t mean it means anything.”
Rage bubbles thick and hot inside my chest. “You brought it with you. Obviously it means something.”
“What do you want me to tell you, Jack? What answer could I possibly say here that you would believe?” She presses a hip into the side of the desk, her gaze even.
“For the first time in ten years, I just want you to tell me the truth. No bullshit.” I study her for any show of emotion whatsoever, but her face stays empty of response.
“The truth is, it’s none of your business.”
I jerk back, her words a slap in the face. The friendship we had, the love I thought transcended everything, apparently meant nothing to her. I take three steps forward and toss the letter on the graveyard of her clothes scattered over the surface of her desk. “So you fucked him? Is that why you left town? Why you left me?”
She sighs, as though having this conversation is beneath her, not worth her time. “Do you want me to say it? Fine, I fucked him. I fucked him the night mom and I came back from New Orleans. I wasn’t sick that night. I was with him.” She pauses, weighing the tense silence. “Is that what you want to hear, Jack? Do you want to hear how many times he made me come?” For the first time she shows a slice of emotion across her face, just a tightening of the muscles around her eyes and mouth, the slightest sneer around her lips. “How much I screamed for him?”
My fists clench by my hips, my feet are rooted to the ground. She slept with one of my friends. “Jesus Christ,” I breathe, at a loss for words. Did I even know her at all?
“I think it’s time for you to go,” she says firmly.
Time passed.
I turn without another word, my steps heavy, and walk out of the room.
When I get home a few hours later after driving aimlessly around town, I email the contact information on the press release Grady gave me and make arrangements for my reenlistment.
Present
“WHERE’S JACK?” DONNIE asks, looking around the interior of the car like he’ll find Jack hiding behind the seats. “I thought he was going to go to school with us today?”
“He couldn’t make it,” I murmur absentmindedly. I adjust my sunglasses and peer through the windshield, urging the cars in front of me to creep down the school driveway. Five more minutes and they’re going to be late for the first day back at school.
“But he promised!”
“Something came up.”