Chapter 15 Avoiding problems
Adeline stood a few steps away from the front door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if that could steady the strange tension building inside her. She knew Julian would arrive any minute. The drive might be long, but Julian was not the type to waste time once he made a decision.
The house felt different now that she was waiting for someone. The silence no longer felt empty. It felt charged, like the air before a storm.
She began pacing without even noticing it at first. Back and forth across the small stretch of space between the door and the couch. With every step, a new question formed in her mind. What exactly was she going to say when he walked in? She had called him here without a clear reason, and with the few things they had to talk about, she did not want to talk about her father.
She also did not want to talk about her brothers, and she certainly did not want to talk about the mess her life had become in the last few days, but unfortunately for her, she and Julian did not have the kind of relationship where they sat down and shared feelings over a cup of coffee. Their conversations had always been filled with tension, and there was never anything too personal.
She stopped pacing and pressed her lips together. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe she should have let the boredom win instead of inviting complication into her space. Before she could spiral further into that thought, a knock sounded against the door. It was not loud, but still, it startled her enough that her shoulders jerked slightly.
She let out a quiet breath, annoyed at herself for reacting like that. There was no reason to be nervous. It was just Julian. She walked toward the door and unlocked it, pulling it open in one smooth motion.
He stood there exactly as she expected, and yet the sight of him still caught her attention. He was dressed casually, in dark jeans and a fitted shirt with the sleeves pushed up slightly. It was clear he had come straight from home. His hair looked slightly less controlled than usual, as if he had run a hand through it more than once on the drive over. In one hand, he held a small bag.
But that was not what held her focus.
There was a small cut on his lower lip. Faint, but noticeable. The skin around it looked slightly swollen, like it had not been a minor bump.
Her eyes widened before she could stop herself. “What happened to you?”
Julian’s mouth curved slightly, careful not to stretch the cut too much. “Are you not going to invite me in first?” he asked lightly.
She blinked, realizing she was still blocking the doorway. “Right, sorry.” She stepped aside quickly, gesturing for him to enter.
He walked past her without hesitation, his presence filling the space almost instantly. She closed the door behind him and turned to face him again, her gaze going straight back to his lip.
Julian placed the small bag on the coffee table and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He lifted it slightly. “I realized on the way here that I forgot to add alcohol to the groceries earlier,” he said. “That felt like a mistake.”
Adeline gave him a disapproving look, though it lacked real force. “You really think I need alcohol while I’m here?”
“Not exactly,” he replied calmly. “But it could help us have a proper conversation tonight.”
She ignored that and stepped closer, studying his face again. “Julian.”
He looked at her.
“What happened?” she asked, more firmly this time. “Why do you look like you’ve been punched?”
He shrugged, the movement careless. “Because I was.”
Her brows drew together. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.” He reached for the bottle opener in the bag and began opening it as if they were discussing the weather. “I was punched. More than once.”
Her jaw tightened. “By who?”
He glanced at her briefly. “Who do you think?”
The answer settled heavily in her mind. “Your father.”
He poured a small amount of whiskey into two glasses he had also pulled from the bag. “That would be the one.”
She stared at him, anger rising in her chest in a way she did not expect. “And you’re just standing here like it’s nothing?”
He handed her one of the glasses. “It’s not nothing, but it’s not new either.”
The calm in his voice unsettled her more than the cut on his lip. “He hit you because of me, right?” she asked quietly.
“He hit me because of the decision I made,” Julian corrected. “You’re not responsible for that.”
She did not take the glass at first. “You just said he punched you more than once.”
He took a sip from his own glass. “He had a lot to say.”
“And you just let him?” she pressed.
Julian looked at her then, really looked at her. “It was easier that way.”
The answer hung between them for a moment, and she did not like it. She did not like imagining him on the receiving end of someone’s anger, even if that someone was his father.
She finally took the glass from his hand, though she did not drink from it yet. “This is because you got involved with me.”
He let out a soft chuckle. “Well, getting involved with a Carter comes with physical consequences. We both know that very well.”
She did not smile. “It’s not amusing, Julian.”
“I didn’t come here to talk about my face,” he said gently. “It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t look fine.”
“It will heal.”
She shook her head slightly, frustration building. “You can’t just dismiss it.”
He stepped closer, not enough to invade her space, but enough that his presence felt stronger. “Adeline,” he said quietly, “I didn’t drive here to discuss my father’s temper. I came because you asked me to.”
She held his gaze, feeling the weight of that reminder. “I didn’t exactly ask,” she muttered.
“You said yes,” he replied simply.
She looked down at the glass in her hand and finally took a small sip. The whiskey burned slightly on the way down, but it steadied her. “You could have stayed home,” she said.
“And let you spend the night alone cursing yourself out of boredom?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “You assume too much.”
“I just know you well enough,” he corrected.
Despite herself, a small breath of something close to a laugh left her. It surprised her enough that she quickly looked away.
Julian took another sip of his drink. “We can talk about anything else,” he said. “Work, politics, or the fucking weather. I’m flexible.”
She studied him again, noticing the faint shadow of bruising beginning to form along his jaw. “Does it hurt?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“A little,” he admitted. “But I’ve had worse.”
She did not like that answer either.
The room felt warmer now, less empty. His presence shifted the energy in a way she could not ignore, and the silence no longer pressed against her chest.
He leaned back slightly against the edge of the table. “So,” he said, his tone lighter now, “what are we focusing on tonight, if not my unfortunate face?”
She considered that question carefully. There were a hundred topics they could touch, but instead, she took another small sip of whiskey and met his eyes. “Anything,” she said. “As long as it’s not a problem.”
Julian’s mouth curved slightly. “Then we’ll avoid problems.”