C. Lymari's Blog - Posts Tagged "jake-juliet"
You Were Always Home- Now Live
You Were Always Home is now Live!!!!
Chapter One
Juliet
Sorry to all of you that have to stay in this town. Have fun watching the dust settle when I leave this place. The inspiring words of my valedictorian speech rang in my ear as I turned the key in the lock of my new apartment.
As soon as I opened the door, I started coughing like a maniac. No, it wasn’t a dose of humility that was being shoved down my throat for being back in town. It was the dirt, musk, and stale air in my crappy new place.
Looking down at the lease papers, I felt pride. It didn’t matter that my new place was in a part of town the old me would have never been caught dead in or that all I had was a stupid full-size bed and not even a third of the closet I had back in Minneapolis. The papers in my hand said “Juliet Dunnett.” The owner didn’t give a damn if my ID said any different. For the first time in my life, I had something that was mine. My money—not my father’s, not my husband’s—mine.
Sure, I had things before that I thought were mine, but it didn’t take long for those things to be thrown back in my face when I did stuff my way, not the way it was expected. Daddy used to love throwing his money back in my brothers’ and my faces whenever we didn’t act the Dunnett way. It was funny how quickly it became his money and not our money. If we were in Daddy’s good graces, it was our money to do with as we wished. After all, we had an image to uphold.
An image I no longer cared about upholding.
My new place was empty—boring. Opening my bank account app, I cringed at the balance, and then I looked up at the barren space before me. Before my fall from grace, I would swipe, swipe, swipe and not worry a bit about the balance dropping. I could decorate with the best of them, but with the amount in my bank account, I was not up to that level anymore. I had enough money to sustain me for now, but I needed more clients ASAP. I had excellent credit and that afforded me credit cards, but I knew how that could become a black hole on its own. So right now they were practically nonexistent. Only for emergencies. Real life emergencies.
Never in my life had I been alone as I was now. There were always my brothers, and people who wanted to use me or exploit me— fake friends, haters, wannabes. I should thank my brother Max for my state of loneliness, but he would have to get off his high horse and talk to me.
Max was still mad at me, and I couldn’t blame him. Since his failed wedding, he refused to talk to me, and after I left Chad, I stopped trying.
My family had turned their backs on me; the message was received. I wasn’t going to beg them. My grandmother always said a lady didn’t beg, and after everything, I was still a lady. The last thing I would do was get on my knees for those who didn’t deserve my time.
I knew Daddy was waiting for me to fail, to come back home begging for his forgiveness. He could die holding his breath for all I cared, and while he was at it, he could drag Prescott with him. I looked down at my right arm and stared at the purple cast that covered it.
Yeah, I’m better off on my own.
The loud thumping on my door startled me. Scared out of my mind, I went to check the peephole, hoping it was the delivery guys. When I saw it was them, I took a deep breath. They didn’t bother to look me over as they made their way inside and put my crappy mattress in my bedroom. As I tipped them, I watched the numbers drop on my invisible calculator.
Was this how everyone lived? Did people just watch a mental calculator drop every time they spent something? For a second, fear went through my veins like a venom spreading all over my body. Shaking my head, I cleared those thoughts out.
I could do this.
I would do this.
Going to my car, I did the best I could to get some of the boxes out, but with one of my hands indisposed, it was hard. The first box I grabbed was a small Christmas storage box. It was the first box I’d stored in my car three years ago when I’d toyed with the idea of leaving. The boxes in my car were stored months in advance, and as sad as it was to say, it only took a few hours to unpack. It wasn’t enough; it was insignificant compared to what I used to have. Compared to my previous abundances of clothes, I had nothing now. A few boxes of clothes, and the rest were still in a walk-in closet that was tailored to my needs.
It made reality scarier. I wanted to believe I was strong and capable, but I felt like a fraud—a coward.
Before I went to sleep, I thought of my new place. It might be mine, but it didn’t feel like me. I needed to change that, but I was scared to do it. My last thought before going to sleep was of him, and I let the humiliation wash me of what I had done. I had done the worst things after him, but he was the calamity that had started it all, and it wasn’t even his fault.
****
How long had it been—a few minutes or hours? I needed to get out of the car or get my ass home before I burned off all the gasoline waiting outside of Pete and Son’s hardware store. My stomach was in knots, and I asked myself if I really needed to paint. The answer was yes—I was in dire need of it. I needed to put my stamp on my new place. I needed it to feel like it was mine. The only way that would happen was if I did what I’d always wanted to do and let loose on the colors. Something, I might add, I had never had a say in because Dunnetts had more important things to do than paint.
I couldn’t help but glance at my left hand. It was getting easier to ignore it. The wedding ring that used to adorn it was now gone, and a small faint tan line was left. Soon that would fade, and all would remain was bitter memories. Those would never go away.
Opening the visor mirror, I checked myself out before getting out. My auburn hair was beautiful and sleek, my bangs neatly trimmed. My porcelain face was almost makeup-free. Just enough coverage to cover my freckled face, something I’d done my whole life.
Getting one heeled foot out in front of the other, I was glad there wasn’t any snow. I already had a broken wrist; I didn’t need to add a broken foot. My left hand shook as I opened the door to the store, since I was still getting used to my right hand being broken. It sucked that my right hand was broken. It had to be my dominant hand. The smell of iron greeted me, making my nose wrinkle. I picked this time knowing the store would be empty. I didn’t need a witness to what could be a potential humiliation.
As soon as I walked in, I cursed my high heels as the sound echoed through the store. Making my way down the aisle, I hoped that anyone other than Jake “Bear” Carson was in attendance. Who knew, maybe he didn’t remember me? I mean, it wasn’t like we’d dated or anything. I guess you could say we were friends. You were more than friends—don’t play stupid. We had one class together for only one semester. It was nothing, I told myself. But it felt like a bitter lie.
I was a bitch to Jake; if I closed my eyes, I could still see the hurt in them, the vivid azure turning dark at my words. I was old enough to know the error of my ways. I knew the errors of my ways back then too, but back then I had everything to lose. I guess my sudden courage came from knowing everything was already lost. Things couldn’t get worse, could they?
When I rounded the corner, I wanted to curse and leave because it was Jake at the counter. I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was. Fuck courage; I was fine being a coward. I could drive an hour away to the nearest Home Depot, but of course Jake chose that exact moment to look up.
Chapter One
Juliet
Sorry to all of you that have to stay in this town. Have fun watching the dust settle when I leave this place. The inspiring words of my valedictorian speech rang in my ear as I turned the key in the lock of my new apartment.
As soon as I opened the door, I started coughing like a maniac. No, it wasn’t a dose of humility that was being shoved down my throat for being back in town. It was the dirt, musk, and stale air in my crappy new place.
Looking down at the lease papers, I felt pride. It didn’t matter that my new place was in a part of town the old me would have never been caught dead in or that all I had was a stupid full-size bed and not even a third of the closet I had back in Minneapolis. The papers in my hand said “Juliet Dunnett.” The owner didn’t give a damn if my ID said any different. For the first time in my life, I had something that was mine. My money—not my father’s, not my husband’s—mine.
Sure, I had things before that I thought were mine, but it didn’t take long for those things to be thrown back in my face when I did stuff my way, not the way it was expected. Daddy used to love throwing his money back in my brothers’ and my faces whenever we didn’t act the Dunnett way. It was funny how quickly it became his money and not our money. If we were in Daddy’s good graces, it was our money to do with as we wished. After all, we had an image to uphold.
An image I no longer cared about upholding.
My new place was empty—boring. Opening my bank account app, I cringed at the balance, and then I looked up at the barren space before me. Before my fall from grace, I would swipe, swipe, swipe and not worry a bit about the balance dropping. I could decorate with the best of them, but with the amount in my bank account, I was not up to that level anymore. I had enough money to sustain me for now, but I needed more clients ASAP. I had excellent credit and that afforded me credit cards, but I knew how that could become a black hole on its own. So right now they were practically nonexistent. Only for emergencies. Real life emergencies.
Never in my life had I been alone as I was now. There were always my brothers, and people who wanted to use me or exploit me— fake friends, haters, wannabes. I should thank my brother Max for my state of loneliness, but he would have to get off his high horse and talk to me.
Max was still mad at me, and I couldn’t blame him. Since his failed wedding, he refused to talk to me, and after I left Chad, I stopped trying.
My family had turned their backs on me; the message was received. I wasn’t going to beg them. My grandmother always said a lady didn’t beg, and after everything, I was still a lady. The last thing I would do was get on my knees for those who didn’t deserve my time.
I knew Daddy was waiting for me to fail, to come back home begging for his forgiveness. He could die holding his breath for all I cared, and while he was at it, he could drag Prescott with him. I looked down at my right arm and stared at the purple cast that covered it.
Yeah, I’m better off on my own.
The loud thumping on my door startled me. Scared out of my mind, I went to check the peephole, hoping it was the delivery guys. When I saw it was them, I took a deep breath. They didn’t bother to look me over as they made their way inside and put my crappy mattress in my bedroom. As I tipped them, I watched the numbers drop on my invisible calculator.
Was this how everyone lived? Did people just watch a mental calculator drop every time they spent something? For a second, fear went through my veins like a venom spreading all over my body. Shaking my head, I cleared those thoughts out.
I could do this.
I would do this.
Going to my car, I did the best I could to get some of the boxes out, but with one of my hands indisposed, it was hard. The first box I grabbed was a small Christmas storage box. It was the first box I’d stored in my car three years ago when I’d toyed with the idea of leaving. The boxes in my car were stored months in advance, and as sad as it was to say, it only took a few hours to unpack. It wasn’t enough; it was insignificant compared to what I used to have. Compared to my previous abundances of clothes, I had nothing now. A few boxes of clothes, and the rest were still in a walk-in closet that was tailored to my needs.
It made reality scarier. I wanted to believe I was strong and capable, but I felt like a fraud—a coward.
Before I went to sleep, I thought of my new place. It might be mine, but it didn’t feel like me. I needed to change that, but I was scared to do it. My last thought before going to sleep was of him, and I let the humiliation wash me of what I had done. I had done the worst things after him, but he was the calamity that had started it all, and it wasn’t even his fault.
****
How long had it been—a few minutes or hours? I needed to get out of the car or get my ass home before I burned off all the gasoline waiting outside of Pete and Son’s hardware store. My stomach was in knots, and I asked myself if I really needed to paint. The answer was yes—I was in dire need of it. I needed to put my stamp on my new place. I needed it to feel like it was mine. The only way that would happen was if I did what I’d always wanted to do and let loose on the colors. Something, I might add, I had never had a say in because Dunnetts had more important things to do than paint.
I couldn’t help but glance at my left hand. It was getting easier to ignore it. The wedding ring that used to adorn it was now gone, and a small faint tan line was left. Soon that would fade, and all would remain was bitter memories. Those would never go away.
Opening the visor mirror, I checked myself out before getting out. My auburn hair was beautiful and sleek, my bangs neatly trimmed. My porcelain face was almost makeup-free. Just enough coverage to cover my freckled face, something I’d done my whole life.
Getting one heeled foot out in front of the other, I was glad there wasn’t any snow. I already had a broken wrist; I didn’t need to add a broken foot. My left hand shook as I opened the door to the store, since I was still getting used to my right hand being broken. It sucked that my right hand was broken. It had to be my dominant hand. The smell of iron greeted me, making my nose wrinkle. I picked this time knowing the store would be empty. I didn’t need a witness to what could be a potential humiliation.
As soon as I walked in, I cursed my high heels as the sound echoed through the store. Making my way down the aisle, I hoped that anyone other than Jake “Bear” Carson was in attendance. Who knew, maybe he didn’t remember me? I mean, it wasn’t like we’d dated or anything. I guess you could say we were friends. You were more than friends—don’t play stupid. We had one class together for only one semester. It was nothing, I told myself. But it felt like a bitter lie.
I was a bitch to Jake; if I closed my eyes, I could still see the hurt in them, the vivid azure turning dark at my words. I was old enough to know the error of my ways. I knew the errors of my ways back then too, but back then I had everything to lose. I guess my sudden courage came from knowing everything was already lost. Things couldn’t get worse, could they?
When I rounded the corner, I wanted to curse and leave because it was Jake at the counter. I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was. Fuck courage; I was fine being a coward. I could drive an hour away to the nearest Home Depot, but of course Jake chose that exact moment to look up.
