Broken - Broken Promises Part 4

"Hey girls," Carrie said as she walked up to our table. "I just love this band. Oh, hi," she said to me. "I don't think we've met." She stuck her hand out to shake and I could barely contain my drunken humor.

I shook her hand but didn't get a chance to tell her my name.

"Carrie, why don't you sit with us for a while? I'm sure Luke wants to chat with Baker at the door," Rainey said.

Carrie pulled up another barstool and sent Luke packing. I still hadn't turned around to face him, but I was betting he was p.i.s.sed.

Rainey introduced us. "I'm Rainey, and this is Mallory. I remember you from high school. I think you were a few years ahead of us."

I didn't remember the woman at all. Of course, I'd been too wrapped up in Luke to notice anyone else in high school. Not to mention Carrie was kind of ordinary. She had the girl next door thing going for her, but that was it.

"Right, I remember you now. What have you girls been up to?" she asked politely.

I couldn't help but notice how old she was. Granted, she couldn't be more than three or four years older than our group, but she looked at least ten years older. Time had not been good to her.

"We were just talking about Luke," Gabby said with a giggle.

"He's pretty great, isn't he? We've only been dating a few weeks, but I think he might be the one," Carrie said.

I'd just taken a sip of my drink when she said it, rum, orange and pineapple juices exploded out of my mouth and across the table.

"Oh! I'm so sorry." I was horrified, but Gabby and Rainey burst into laughter.

"No harm done, Mallory. Mallory. Are you the Mallory? As in, Luke's ex-girlfriend?" She glared at me.

"Guilty," I muttered.

"Actually, Mallory had a run-in with Luke earlier today. Why don't you tell her about it, Mal?" Rainey smirked.

"He always brings your father dinner. He's such a sweetheart," Carrie said.

It was obvious she had no idea what a low-life Luke was.

"Well, he kind of pulled me into an empty room and almost kissed me, actually," I said. The words were out of my mouth before I could take them back and the fuzziness in my head was playing tricks on my brain.

"What? When?"

"It was after dinner, when he offered to give me a ride home," I told her. The cat was out of the bag now. No going back.

Tears welled in her eyes. "He offered you a ride home, too?"

The satisfaction I felt for an instant dissipated and guilt abound. As if I needed more guilt.

"My dad cornered him into it, Carrie," I started to explain.

"Did Joe corner him into kissing you, too?"

Her eyes flashed but I could tell she wasn't mad at me. Her anger was directed at Luke, as it should be. He was the a.s.s.

"Of course not," I said in defense of Dad. "But he didn't actually kiss me." I tried to backtrack, but she waved me off.

"Excuse me," she said and left the table.

Gabby and Rainey watched Carrie walk across the bar.

"She's pulling him outside," Rainey informed me.

I refused to turn and look. I no longer wanted anything to do with any of it.

"I think he's about to catch h.e.l.l," Gabby added.

They both sipped their drinks as if we hadn't just ruined a relationship. The conversation migrated to other topics eventually and my guilt eased with my growing inebriation. Luke didn't deserve to stay in a relationship if he was going to cheat, or almost cheat on Carrie. Especially with me. I was his past. No woman would want to be a part of his and my crazy mixed up history.

By midnight, neither Luke nor Carrie had reentered the bar and we were all full-blown drunk. I figured I was going to have to call a cab. In Boston, that was easier, of course. When Baker stepped forward to offer the three of us a ride, I was grateful.

"You ladies shouldn't be driving," he said authoritatively.

"I didn't drive. My apartment is only one street over," Gabby told him, grabbing her purse. "I'll walk."

Baker didn't look impressed but he allowed it. "Guess it's just you two and me," he said with a grin. "A threesome."

I laughed. "Baker, eww! You're such a perv."

"I can call my mom," Rainey said.

"It's not a problem, Rainey. After what happened when you arrived, I figure I owed it to you," he replied.

I was suddenly in the dark. Rainey hadn't mentioned a run-in with Baker. I glared at her and she mouthed later. The two of us followed Baker out of the bar.

We got halfway across the parking lot when I saw him. Luke was standing alone on the sidewalk, hands tucked into his pockets and appearing tortured. We had to pa.s.s by him to get to Baker's car.

"Mallory. I'll give you a ride home," he said through clenched teeth.

"That's not necessary, Luke. Baker's giving me a ride."

I didn't want to be anywhere near him at the moment. His temper was unmatched except maybe by my own.

"I insist," he said, wrapping his fingers around my arm.

I glanced at Baker but he was smiling like a lunatic. Useless oaf.

Rainey wasn't any happier about riding home alone with Baker than I was about riding home with Luke. Of course, we were both more than just a little drunk, which made everything just a little funny. I giggled.

"Something amusing?" Luke asked as he steered me toward his truck. His tone suggested I refrain from answering.

I didn't take the hint. "Not really. I just realized I haven't been this drunk in a long time," I replied honestly.

He raised a brow at me but didn't say a word. I found his silence hilarious. He opened the pa.s.senger door of his truck and pushed me inside. "Get in, you loon," he muttered.

His irritation only spurred my hilarity. "I might be a loon, but I'm a d.a.m.n fine one," I said after I was seated on the bench seat. I rubbed my hands down my legs.

Luke had been about to slam the door but froze. His eyes followed the movement of my hands and he took in a slow, trembling breath. "You are that," he murmured and slammed the door.

SIX.

Luke.

The fact that she'd shown up at the bar I frequented on a regular basis was nothing short of bad karma. I figured I deserved it for what I'd revealed to her today. But she and her drunk friends insisting on chatting with my girlfriend? That was more than just bad luck. I should have been smart enough to see what was coming and high-tailed it out of there.

I'd made a mistake today, several, in fact, and I should have stayed home. I'd left Mallory's house feeling lower than low and I needed a drink. I remembered Carrie had wanted to hang out, so I called her and made plans to meet her at the bar after her shift.

When I saw Mallory, Rainey, and Gabby sitting at a table in the back of the bar, I wanted to tuck tail and run. I hadn't believed Mallory would end up saying something to Carrie, but she surprised me. After spending no more than twenty minutes at that table of death, Carrie had marched over to where I was talking to Baker and demanded I take her home.

After a long discussion about our relationship and all the c.r.a.p guys did not like to discuss, Carrie said we should breakup. It wasn't unprecedented, but rejection was rejection. Of course, she felt like I was the one who rejected her, having almost kissed my ex. If it wasn't so depressing, the whole thing would be beyond comical.

After I dropped Carrie off at her apartment, I made my way back to the bar, determined to talk to Mallory. I needed to know why she had to retaliate that way. I actually liked Carrie, and even though we probably wouldn't have been together forever, it wasn't easy to end the relationship.

I parked near Baker's truck and waited for her to come out. Once she was tucked into my truck, my heart stuttered when she said she was fine. She wasn't lying, of course, but I didn't want to think about hot she was. I didn't want to think about her at all. She wasn't mine anymore. I needed to get over her. Easier said than done.

"You are that," I said and closed the door.

I knew I slammed it but my brain was on fire. How was I supposed to stay the h.e.l.l away from her like she asked when she was so d.a.m.n gorgeous? I yanked open the driver's side door and hopped in. I turned the key and whipped the truck out of the parking lot.

"Easy killer, not all of us are used to crazy back road drivers," she purred.

She'd moved more toward the center of the truck and I gulped. I kept both hands on the wheel and did my best to ignore her. Despite my intentions to shout at her, she was too far gone for it to even be worth the trouble. I would have to let her know how angry I was tomorrow.

"Buckle up," I instructed.

To my dismay, she belted herself into the center, the strap tight across her hips.

"Why does Daddy have to die, Luke?" she asked.

c.r.a.p. A drunk and emotional Mallory was not a good mix. And definitely not someone I wanted to deal with.

"Did you have fun with your friends tonight?" I ignored her question and hoped to distract her.

"Yeah, it was fun," she said. "I'm sorry about Carrie, Luke. Did she dump you?"

"Yeah, it was fun," I said, mimicking her words.

She laughed, the sound sharp and vibrant in the silent cab.

"I really am sorry," she whispered and looked down at her hands.

I accepted her apology. It might be the only one I ever got. "I know, Mal. It's fine. She wasn't the one for me."

"So who is the one for you, Luke?"

You are, I thought.

"I have no idea. Someday, I'll figure it out," I said, definitely not wanting to have this conversation.

"Did I used to be the one?"

She stared up at me and had to force myself to look back at the road and away from her pretty face and big blue eyes.

"I thought so, but things just weren't meant to be." I hoped she wouldn't remember much of the conversation in the morning.

"I guess not," she said glumly.

She rested her head on my shoulder and it felt like we were back at the prom.

It didn't matter that we'd broken up at her senior prom, on a boat, no less-we had to endure each other's company for the remainder of the night. She asked me to pretend things were okay and we could tell everyone tomorrow. I agreed, but only because I didn't have much choice. Unless I was prepared to jump off the balcony and swim to sh.o.r.e, I was staying at the prom until it was over.

We did a fair job pretending for the night; not a single person suspected a thing. I was proud of our efforts, but I still had to drive her home.

"I'm exhausted," she yawned when we were back in my truck. "Do you mind?" She gestured to my shoulder and I shook my head. This would be the last time I was this close to her. She laid her head on my shoulder and sighed.

"Why does it have to be so hard, Luke?" she whispered.

I didn't have an answer. We were too different to make it work. I wanted to stay in Casper and grow old here; she wanted a fancy Boston life. We were doomed before we ever even began.

The similarities between that night and our current situation weren't lost on me. It felt as if history was repeating itself and I wasn't sure I could handle that. A broken heart from Mallory Wells was more than enough the first time around. I didn't need to feel the hurt all over again.

I heard a soft snore from beside me and let out a sigh of relief. If she was sleeping, she couldn't pester me with questions about our past and us. I turned the radio up a bit to fill the silence and regretted it immediately. Our song was playing. My heart constricted, the world stopped spinning for a moment and my heartbeat raced on.

I realized in that moment, I would never be able to escape the past we shared. Even though my apartment had been completely redecorated and there wasn't anything in it to remind me of her, moments like this would happen for the rest of my life. I would hear our song, or even any song that reminded me of her, and I would feel the pain all over again. If I hadn't been able to move on after three years of separation, I probably wasn't going to anytime soon with her back in town. How on earth did people ever survive break-ups?

Maybe it was just me. Maybe I was the one with a problem-I couldn't let go of Mallory. She seemed to have been able to live a happy life in Boston, away from her friends, her family, and from me. I'd never received so much as a phone call from her since her prom. I'd written her several letters over the course of that first year. The first had taken me two full weeks to write and at least a month to gather the courage to send. They weren't returned, so I knew she'd received them. She never replied, never called; I hadn't heard a word from her. Her stand on how she felt about me was clear. There was no way to know whether or not she'd read them, though. I knew she'd rejected me already, but I was, for some unknown reason, a glutton for punishment.

I pulled into the driveway of her house and gently shook her awake. She sat up, looking more than just a bit disoriented.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"You're home," I said.

"Oh good. Are you going to carry me? I feel sick," she muttered, her head falling back to my shoulder.

I laughed but recognized that she would definitely need help into the house. I wanted to drop her at the door and take off, but I knew I couldn't. There was no way she would make it to her room. I got out of the truck and pulled her out through the driver's door. Her body was almost completely limp, which meant I would, indeed be carrying her. I hauled her into my arms, her legs draped over one arm while the other supported her back. Her head lolled to the side until it rested against my chest. I managed to grab her purse with my fingers and walked to the house.