Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Ella

Past (Ten Years Ago)

I’m sitting in a sticky bar, trying to decide at what point it is socially acceptable to leave a horrendous date. Not even a minute in, and I’m already second-guessing my ability to pick quality romantic partners. His dating profile was charming and his pictures were cute, but the reality of this date is far from that.

Luke arrives thirty minutes late, stumbling into the rustic Depot bar. As he sits in the swiveling barstool, I instantly smell the bourbon and marijuana permeating the air around him. I don’t have anything against alcohol or smoking marijuana. But I have never gone on a date where the guy shows up already wasted and swaying as if he’s on rough ocean waters. It instantly makes me uneasy about the situation.

He looks me up and down once he’s seated, smiling like a high chipmunk as he nearly topples off his stool. His eyes are stuck on my breasts as he leans in, breathing his rancid bourbon-weed breath in my face. “Wow, you’re hot.”

Trying not to inhale through my nose, I reply, “Thanks. Nice to finally meet you, Luke.”

He repeatedly slaps the wooden bar top and starts laughing, tiny droplets of his spit mist the air. He draws the attention of several bar patrons who throw him hatred-filled glares for being obnoxious. I don’t blame them. If I wasn’t such a people pleaser I would already be out the door and on the way back to the peaceful solitude of my trashy reality shows.

He clears his throat, like he’s at a comedy club and about to deliver a great punchline. “My name’s not Luke. I actually had my sister make my whole profile for me to appeal to the masses. Name’s Marvin Cox, but you can call me Marv.”

I nod, taking him in, trying not to be immature about the hilarity of the word ‘cocks,’ even though I’m certain the spelling isn’t the same.

Luke-now-Marv is actually cute in a way, with his shoulder length wavy dark hair and deep brown eyes. His ripped jeans and red shirt hang loose on his narrow frame. He gives off total stoner skater vibes, which at one time used to be my thing.

His bloodshot gaze is taking me in, too, looking me up and down like a hungry, inebriated wolf. Through his eyes I try to imagine what he’s seeing—dark hair in beach waves, hazel eyes with winged liner, and a casual but sexy black dress that is my go-to for first dates. My olive skin has recently been subjected to an hour-long session of showering, exfoliating, shaving, and moisturizing. I had thoroughly prepared in case the date went well and I wanted him to feel up every square inch of me. So far, I don’t foresee this one going that way.

“Well then Marv, how are you?” I finally blurt out, after realizing my silence has stretched on too long. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice or care, seeing as he’s moved on from eye-fucking me to trying to wave down the bartender.

“I’d be a lot better if the service in this place wasn’t such bullshit,” he says a touch too loudly, in his hope to get the bartender to overhear.

The peacekeeper in me instantly wants to alleviate this for both mine and the bartender’s sake. “Here, have my drink.” I shove my frosty glass down the bar to him with such force that I nearly spill the entire glass in his lap.

Grabbing the sloshing rum and cola, he raises it in a one-sided toast before downing it in three quick gulps. Then, with a loud burp, he winks at me as if he’s done something incredibly sexy.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. That’s it. I tried, I really fucking tried to give it a chance. But I can’t go on any longer without my head combusting.

Flashing him my very best polite smile, I hop off the tall barstool and grab my purse. “I’ll be right back. Have to use the restroom.”

The Depot is a former granary and furniture warehouse that has been transformed into an eclectic bar. Exposed brick walls and quirky old-school decor highlight its modern nostalgia vibe. From the bar, it only takes me a handful of steps to get across the sticky hardwood floors and to the hallway, low-lit with industrial sconces. I push open the door to the restroom like there’s a million dollars waiting for me inside. Not actually needing to use the bathroom, I lean against the counter and whip out my phone to text my friends.

Ella

Date is going very, very bad with MARVIN. I need to get out of here without rocking the boat.

My phone chimes seconds later with their response. Knowing them they were probably waiting by their phones to make sure I wasn’t getting abducted on my first date.

Delaney

Marvin? What is he, some eighties porn star? What happened to Luke?

Ella

He admitted that he lied about everything to “appeal to the masses.”

Delaney

For someone named Marvin, he sure has some gall to say that out loud.

Ella

I’m getting bad vibes from him and am too scared to just cut the date short and bolt. Maybe call me in five minutes and we’ll do the whole cliche “I have an emergency” bit.

Madi

We’ll save you, girl. Hang tight! You’re at The Depot, right?

Ella

Yes, at The Depot.

I turn my volume to high so Marv and I will undoubtedly hear it ring with my impending fake emergency.

Part of me feels guilty for wanting to leave so soon. I’ve never ditched a date this quickly before. I’m aware that I shouldn’t feel guilty since the date is obviously a dud, but it’s how my brain works. Anxiety in every way, shape, and form comes easily to me. Thanks to my parents, guilt has been conditioned into me as if it’s a noble virtue.

Walking back through the half-empty bar, a sense of dread lines my chest. But I paste a cheery smile on my face and hop back onto my stool next to Marv who is now doing a tequila shot.

I sit there, nodding politely at his stories that seem more like an ongoing confession of the various crimes he’s committed over the years. If I were brave enough, I’d tell him straight to his face that this date isn’t working for me, and then I’d get the hell out. Somehow I get the gut feeling that it wouldn’t go over very well with someone like him .

The minutes tick by as I wait for the phone call that will save me. Those few minutes drag on into ten, then twenty minutes. His inebriated state increases, as does his overabundance of obvious glances at my boobs and legs.

I’m fighting the urge to look at my phone for the tenth time, when the wooden double doors swing wide open with so much force they thud against the wall. A tall, muscular man that looks ready for war walks through. He looks familiar, but I can’t pinpoint from where exactly.

All I do know is that the moment my eyes land on him, I feel an instant attraction. My breath hitches and my thighs instinctively press together, trying to ease a dull ache.

He’s easily the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. His dark brown hair is perfectly styled in that mussed up way. One strand of it being rebellious, breaking free from the rest, against his obvious best efforts. I don’t even know him, but I want to run my fingers through his hair, attempting to tame that one defiant piece.

My brain tells me I shouldn’t keep staring, especially when on a date, bad or not, with someone else. But the stranger sticks out like a sore thumb in this bar. Instead of a customer, he feels more like he has just stepped straight out of a superhero movie.

He surveys the room, looking for something or someone as if he’s on a mission. Our eyes lock and that steely, serious expression of his slips for one millisecond. His brows slightly raise with some sort of internal thought that I can’t interpret.

Then to my surprise, he heads straight for me. My pulse quickens, heart thrumming against my rib cage as the man crosses the room in a few long strides, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You know that guy or something?” Marv asks from beside me. His tone implies he’s pissed. He probably doesn’t like the way the mystery guy and I stared each other down like we were ready to fuck in the middle of the bar.

The mystery man steps in close, his gaze locking onto mine like there’s no one else in the room. His broad frame seems to fill the entire place as he towers over us sitting on our rickety barstools. I can’t help but feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as my eyes travel up his body, taking in the way his well-fitted navy shirt stretches over his biceps and how his sharp jawline seems to cut through the air.

Leaning down, he puts his hand between my shoulder blades and whispers, “Play along. My sister Madi sent me to save you.”

Suddenly all the pieces click together. Madi’s hot older brother that I’ve never met, who was coming home from college any day now. She probably sent him here to save me, since my texts worried her.

Our exchange causes Marv to get up and out of his seat like a rocket. “Dude, what the fuck. Get off my girl!”

Mystery Man extends his hand in Marv’s direction giving him a firm, confident shake. “I’m Jude. Something came up and we’ve got to bolt. Ready, Ella?”

Marv is momentarily thrown off, shaking Jude’s hand as if his own is a limp ramen noodle. He’s thoroughly confused, as am I. But I know this is my escape route, so I plan to play along.

“Ready,” I say, taking Jude’s hand that stretches toward me. His large hand swallows mine, making me feel like I’m in a knock-off superhero movie where Superman has swooped in to save me. I’m not mad about it, that’s for damn sure.

“You can’t just leave,” Marv spits out. I hear the note of desperation in his voice. The man probably thought he was getting lucky tonight.

At the same exact moment, I reply, “Yes, I can,” Jude also sharply says, “Yes, she can.”

Our eyes dart to the other’s in amusement, exchanging a playful smile about saying the same thing at the same time. Marv sees our silent conversation and grabs my arm, roughly pulling me towards him. With his extreme intoxication, he can barely stand as rage seeps out of him like smoke flowing from his ears.

I try to pull back as his fingers tighten around my wrist, my shouts for him to get off me lost in the chaos. The pixie-cut bartender that sees the commotion yells at him to get the hell out. But it’s Jude that steps in, chest-to-chest and looking at him as if he’ll cut his fucking head off. His voice rumbles like thunder. “Let go of her now , and back the fuck up.”

From where I’m standing, I can’t see the look in Jude’s eyes, but it must be terrifying because Marv instantly releases me. He storms off, shouting expletives as he futilely karate-kicks a chair before shoving through the double doors to exit .

I stay stock still, frozen in shock. I didn’t expect any of that to happen. Given Marv’s anger, I’m glad I texted for help when I did and relieved that Madi sent her brother to play bodyguard.

“You okay?” Jude asks, in a deep, gentle voice. He must sense my distress, as he throws his arm around my shoulders and hugs my shocked body to his firm one. It feels as natural as could be, like we do this all the time and aren’t complete strangers.

My breath catches. All I have in me is a nod, as my eyes burn with tears—internally pep-talking myself to not cry in front of him. I’ve had a lot of embarrassing moments throughout my life, but somehow this one may top them all.

He tightens his embrace, using his free hand to trace soothing circles on my back. Focusing on the rhythmic pattern of his touch, my body gradually releases all the tension I’ve built up over the last hour. Yet, beneath the calm surface, the proximity between us causes my heart to beat in double time.

After a brief moment, reality hits me—here we are, two strangers in the middle of a bar, embracing as if we’ve been starved of human contact for years. Abruptly, I withdraw from his arms, gazing up at him with eyes blurred from tears and releasing a strained laugh. At five foot seven, boosted by heels, I realize he is still a giant in comparison, towering over me like a protective goliath.

“Well, not how I imagined meeting my best friend’s brother, but hi.”

He takes a step back, creating a safe distance between us as his expression softens when he looks at me. “Definitely a memorable first meeting.”

The feral look in his eyes makes me think he’s referring to more than saving me from a bad date. But I chalk it up to all the leftover testosterone coursing through his veins from nearly fighting.

“Thanks for coming to save me. Sorry about all that,” I say, waving my hand behind me, referring to the whole Marv incident.

“Don’t apologize for that asshole. I’m glad I could help.”

We stand for one more awkwardly long moment in silence, as he stares down at me, looking personally offended by the tears that had welled in my eyes and have since begun to clear.

The look on his face, like he could ruin me in a way no one ever has before, is what has me thank him one last time before rushing off to the isolated safety of my car.