the time, but I can’t say I blame him entirely. It’s not like the years have been easy on any of us.
“See ya at home.” I flip the switch to the lights leaving the bar draped in darkness.
Outside, the cool marine air hits me with a slap, the misty rain following. I sigh and breathe in the smells of saltwater. I love the way the fog has moved to the streets and glows under the street lamps. The ding of the buoy rocking back and forth and the distant flash of the lighthouse light my path.
I think about Lincoln and his intense stare on me all night. I wished I’d had the guts to talk to him, but I’m also horrified by my reaction to him, the draw, the need to know him. I suck in a breath, the scent of the sea on my tongue, and step onto the sidewalk in front of the bar.
Though it’s a small coastal town, it’s not unheard of for boats to be coming in at this hour or locals to be walking around. Who I’m not expecting is Devereux.
Fucking Devereux. Ugh.
“I don’t have your stupid ring,” I tell him, rolling my eyes and turning on my heel to walk away from him. “Go home to your wife.”
He catches me by the elbow. “The thing is, I need that ring.”
“Why? Have another wife you need to give it to?”
His grip on my arm tightens. “It’s not like that. I just need it back.”
“I told you. I threw it in the ocean. Go diving.”
He doesn’t like that, his eyes narrowing in on me. Swallowing nervously, I remember how often I bent myself to fit the mold I thought he wanted from me. I drank straight from the cup of perfect and forgot who I was. And now, now I remember that I can fight for my own happiness. I won’t settle for being the other woman.
I know Devereux has a wicked side. I saw it once before when a bar patron got frisky with me. But never toward me. Even when I threw my glass of wine in his face and called him a cunt in front of fifty people last night.
Now, over a ring, he’s freaking out.
His lips thin. “Why the fuck did you do that?”
Above his head, a blinking neon sign outside the bar flickers. White letters spell out the words Closed, and behind it, everything is black, the darkness blanketing the city. Reality sinks in. I’m alone with a man I don’t trust. I fling my arm from his and step back. My breathing increasing. I fear him, and I know if I scream, I’m close enough Avie might hear me, but I’m not sure. “I did it because you’re a piece of shit.”
“It wasn’t yours to dispose of,” he presses, sharp, uncontrolled words breaking through him.
“You gave it to me,” I snap back, straightening my shoulders. Here’s the thing about embracing yourself and your own needs. There’s a fine line between that and knowing when to stop.
“And you said no,” he yells back, the veins in his neck pulsing. “Just give me the goddamn ring, Journey. It’s not yours anymore.”
“Shouldn’t have asked me then.” And then it hits me. The way he talked about the ring that night. How it’d been in his family for decades, and he’d been saving it. “Oh, I see. It wasn’t your ring, was it?”
His jaw twitches, steam rolling from his mouth when he snaps, “It doesn’t matter. You should have just given it back to me.” He takes another step toward me and backs me against the side of the bar. I look over his shoulder at the docks, then down the street, wishing I knew for sure if Avie could hear me if I screamed.
I shake, unable to control the crazy thump of my heart against my breastbone. I hate the feeling of panic. It reminds me of the way it felt when my heart gave up on me, and even now, I fear it can’t take this. Will it give out on me?
My back makes contact with the building. “Are you lying to me?” he asks, his eyes intent on mine. “Did you sell it to pay for your fucking medical bills?”
Anger vibrates inside me. How dare he bring that up. “What the hell is wrong with you? No, I didn’t sell it.”
He blinks. No answer. I stare at a man I used to know, back when love tasted like champagne, bubbly and