Two hours later, we're at the third bar when Jax and I slam down our shot glasses at the same time. Shockingly, both of us are lightweights, so we've paced ourselves by ordering mostly mixed shots and light beer. I can't tell how far gone Jax is, but I'm comfortably drunk and feeling happier than I have in a long time.
"Do you remember that time in high school when you and Remy were drinking in the basement and our parents came home early?" I ask with a giggle. Jax groans and drops his head between his shoulders.
"How could I forget? I had to somehow muster all the brain power in the world just to get through a conversation with your dad about his company's new merger. All while knowing that if he found out I was drunk, he would literally chase me off the property and into the snow while I was only wearing shorts and a T-shirt."
My giggle turns into laughter. "You were so weirdly focused on his eyes, I have no idea how he couldn't tell that you were shitfaced."
"I count it as one of the few miracles I've experienced in my lifetime," he says on a sigh, motioning to the bartender for two more beers.
Once he's ordered, I watch as Jax gets a thoughtful, almost hesitant look on his face. After a few moments, he finally asks, "Why did you never drink before?"
I sigh as my good mood evaporates. I realize now that I probably should've known the question was coming. I steel myself for anger, disappointment, confusion, whatever cocktail of emotions Jax is going to experience once I tell him the truth. I begin tracing a nonexistent pattern on the bar top so as to avoid making eye contact with him.
"Do you remember when I told you about that threesome I had in high school?" I ask bluntly, diving right into the heart of the explanation.
I sense, more than see, Jax's surprise. "Uh, yeah," he answers, confused.
"It was the first time I ever drank. I got drunk that night, though it's not the reason I initiated everything." I wince and look up at the shelf of liquor across from me so I can focus on something that’s not Jax. "I told you Steve judged me for that night. It was the whole reason he treated me like I was dirty. I told him the story early on when we were first sharing fun dating stories, but later I figured out the reason he didn’t say it was a problem was because he was trying to come off as easygoing. Sometimes I wonder if he was even looking for things to hold over me so he’d always hold the power in the relationship.”
My voice has gone quiet by the end, lost in the painful memory. I shake my head in an effort to clear it. “Anyway,” I continue, “he could never get over the fact that I did something like that. I think he tried so hard to explain it away that he latched onto the fact that I was drunk. He still blamed me for getting drunk enough to make a bad decision, but it was easier for him to believe that his girlfriend's mistake was drinking too much, versus the mistake of wanting two men to take her to bed. He somehow started to associate drinking with threesomes. Every time I had a drink in my hand, he would give me a judgmental look or make a snarky comment. It was his way of reminding me that he still held what happened before he even knew me over my head. It became easier to just not drink."
"Jesus Christ," I hear Jax mutter. "What a fucking psycho." He turns toward me, and I notice how many emotions are warring for space on his face. Anger wins out when he asks, "I still can't believe he judged you for a consensual sex act. Like what year is it? That’s such an archaic standard to hold your girlfriend to. It’s like the equivalent of judging you for having sex before marriage."
I give him a sad smile. "It didn’t help that his ex-fiancée cheated on him too. He was messed up over everything that had to do with sex, I think because sex is about power. Between my past, his past, and—” I feel my cheeks pinken, but I push forward anyway, “—and my sexual preferences, it was the one place he never felt like he had any.”
I feel Jax freeze at my acknowledgement of my earlier admission. But I don’t give him a chance to respond, I just continue talking. “I think that’s why sex became the core issue in the relationship. Because if there’s this big thing that you can't get over, something that causes you to not respect your partner, how can you possibly have a healthy relationship?" I shake my head. "You can't. Without respect, you're not equals. And in hindsight, I think that was his whole goal. I think the reason he never let it go is because he needed the upper hand."
Jax shakes his head in disbelief, which seems to be the only acceptable reaction to recapping anything Steve did. "You have no idea how badly I want to hunt down that piece of shit and put my fist down his throat every time you tell me something that he did or said while you guys were together. He's not worthy of even breathing the same air as you, Hailey. I hope you know that."
I turn to Jax with a smile, my heart warming at his words. He’s always been vocal about how highly he thinks of me, but his words hit a little bit harder now. I’m fully aware my self-esteem is at an all-time low lately, so hearing Jax say things like that—hearing him respect me and care about me and want to protect me—it lifts a massive weight off my chest.
And I love him for that.
"I know," I answer him. "I realize that now. I couldn't see it at the time because he had me all screwed up with his mind games, but I understand it now. A man shouldn't revel in having power over his partner; he shouldn't shame her repeatedly for a”—I make air quotes with my fingers—“'mistake.' He shouldn't… well, there's a lot he shouldn't do. Let's just agree Steve was a shit boyfriend and a shit person."
Jax laughs at that. I wish I could bottle up the sound of his rumbling laughter and get drunk onthat. It brings me the same sense of peace that the sound of a rainstorm does.
Just then, the bartender appears in front of us. She slides two shots of tequila across the bar, and a second later, she's walking away with Jax's card in hand.
I raise an eyebrow at Jax. "Shots?" I ask in an amused tone.
He just shrugs. "If we're gonna drink, we're gonnadrink. Take the shot, baby girl."
I shake my head, but a smile is playing across my lips. I grab the shot of tequila and lift it in the air. "Okay, what are we cheersing to?"
He looks me square in the eye as he raises his shot glass and says, "Cheers to recognizing your worth and getting the fuck away from anyone that treats you as anything less than the queen you are."
A shiver runs through me at the intent in his words.
We both down our shots and then Jax is signing the tab and turning to me with a smile. And even though the tequila only went down my throat a few seconds ago, I feel something start to simmer low in my belly at his heated gaze.Have we been this close the entire time?
"Alright, baby girl, where to next?"
I squirm in my seat, feeling suddenly breathless from the alcohol, the conversation, Jax's presence... I want to keep hanging out, but it's been a long time since I've been drunk with another person, and I don't know if I can trust myself to keep my head about me with these strange feelings roiling inside me. Jax would never make me nervous, but my not knowing if these reactions are from the alcohol or something else definitely does.
"I should probably go home,," I murmur. "I don't want to be the annoying drunk girl that needs to be babysat, and that's probably where I'm heading."
Jax just grins, the alcohol making him happier than normal. "I don't think you could be annoying even if you tried,” he says as we climb off the barstools and start to head toward the front of the bar.