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I’m pretty sure my heart is frozen in my chest, but then it beats, and it’s so painful that I know it’s not.
“Greg?” My eyes closes as an all over body shudder moves through me.
“Hey, Punkin’. Long time no talk.”
My body jerks with his old nickname. I used to live for that name out of his lips. He was the first guy to give me a nickname, a pet name that made me feel important. Hell, he was the only guy. It made me appreciate the fact that Ben never did. To him I was always Junie or Baby, and I loved that. Hearing Greg saying the name now, I hate it. It makes me physically ill. I want to scream at him, but I’m too busy feeling… cold.
Cold and scared.
“What are you doing calling me? Did you forget our agreement?” I hiss into the phone, doing my best to remember I’m not the scared, young, little girl who thought it was normal for a guy to talk with his fists.
“I don’t think I can forget the agreement, Juniper. It cost me a fucking mint.” There’s a hint of resentment in his voice, and I hear that clear as crystal. It’s surprising though, because it doesn’t sound hateful, like I was so used to hearing from him.
“Then why are you breaking it?” I ask him, needing to know why he’s calling me. In my experience, Greg does nothing unless he has a reason—and that usually means he gets something out of it.
“I want to put the past behind us, Juniper. I’ve been working up the courage to call you for over a year.”
“The past is behind me, Greg. You’re behind me. How did you even get my number?”
“You know you can’t hide from me, Punkin’.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide from you. I didn’t think that was something I needed to do anymore,” I respond, staring blindly down at the food that I suddenly have no stomach for. “Things have changed now, Greg. You’re not the one in control. Now, you have too much to lose,” I add, reminding him of something that he should know.
“Juniper, it’s been long enough. Don’t you think we should put the past behind us after all this time?” he asks, his voice sad and filled with something that sounds close to regret, but I don’t truly trust it—it pays never to trust anything when it comes to Greg.
“That’s easier said when your past doesn’t carry scars, Greg.” There’s bitterness in my voice, and I don’t tell him that the scars are both physical and mental. I figure he knows that. I also figure he doesn’t give a damn.
“What do you want?”
“Ryker is going to be playing the Whittemore next week. I’m traveling with him.”
My heart stutters when he mentions the arena in New Hampshire.It’s too fucking close.
“Ryker gave you a job again?” I ask, surprised, but not totally. Ryker is a good man. He’d give someone a second chance—especially since I never told him how truly bad everything was.
“I’m not the same man I was, Juniper. I know that’s hard for you to believe, but I’m not. I quit drinking. I’m going to AA and I’m trying… I’m reallytryingto make amends for the wrongs that I did in the past.”
Greg can’t see the cynical smile that comes over my face, or the bitterness on my face, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.
“There are some things that you can’t make better, Greg. Sometimes forgiveness can’t be achieved.”
“I get that and why you would feel that way. The thing is…Hell. Junie, when I saw on the news that you were kidnapped and your life was in danger… Listen, I know you don’t owe me a thing. I get that, but I’d really like the chance to apologize in person—”
“No, absolutely not!” I cut him off quickly.
“Juniper. We can meet at a public place. You can even have your brother with you. He’s an FBI agent, right? I saw that on the news. I just, there are things you don’t know and things I need to say. I won’t take much of your time, I promise.”
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, Greg,” I argue, feeling so sick to my stomach that I’m trying to hold in the bile that threatens to rise.
“You’ll want to hear this,” he says, and I shake my head no, just as a reflex—trying to deny this conversation in general. This whole call is confusing.
“Nothing you could say will ever change the past, and it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.”
“This matters. Please, Juniper? All I’m asking is for five minutes of your time. We can meet at a restaurant. It doesn’t matter where. I’m running out of time.”
“Running out of time?” I ask, even as I berate myself for prolonging this conversation.
“I’m sick, Punkin’. I’m not asking for sympathy, but if you could just give me five minutes to tell you things that need to be said… I know you don’t owe me a damn thing, Junie, but I’m asking. Hell, I’m begging. Please, Juniper?”
