Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Let’s get a drink,” he suggests, leading us back to the bar. I wander in and Carmichael motions to the Italian man waiting to serve me. “You’re eighteen now, kid. All is not lost. You still have some wins ahead of you.”
I step forward and scan the top shelf, wondering if he’s right. Will I ever feel as though I can win at life again? Probably not.
I’ve never needed to be eighteen to drink, but I haven’t touched a drop since Lauren produced that bottle of vodka. The haze was nice, the numbness, and I feel like I need to be numb now. I look around me, to the bar, where endless people sit, chat, laugh. No Lauren. Thank fuck. I’m safe. And that’s Carmichael’s point. Safe. Free. Away from the nightmare. “A vodka, please,” I say, perching on one of the stools, feeling my body lighten and the ball of anxiety clogging my throat shrinking. A woman approaches. She’s mature. Attractive. Smiling in delight.
In approval.
In acceptance.
I neck my drink and order another.
* * *
“Jesse?”
I blink and cast my eyes between my two mates, still thinking about Carmichael’s words from nearly twenty years ago.
All is not lost. You still have some wins ahead of you.
Ava is my fucking win.
Win her back. Win her back. Win her back.
“Are you meeting Kate?” I ask, and Sam’s head starts to shake. I roll my eyes. This isn’t a case of not wanting to leave me alone while I’m behaving like a lovesick puppy, it’s about taking me to within licking distance of alcohol. I stand up. “Call her.”
“No.”
“Do it,” I growl, hearing Drew sigh. “You’re going to meet Kate,” I declare, walking off toward my car. “And I’m coming.” I hear my friends scrambling up, the metal chairs clanging loudly.
“Wait, what?” Sam asks, chasing my heels. “What are you going to do?”
“Talk to Ava.”
“Oh boy,” he breathes. “Reasonably?”
I stop, turning an incredulous glare onto him. “I’m always reasonable.” For fuck’s sake. “Are you two girls coming or not?”
It’s time to start fixing my wrongs, because I’ve tried to live without her, not think about her, forget about her. And failed. I need to fix this. And I especially need to learn how to manage the moods she spikes.
* * *
Outside the bar, my phone rings. I ignore John’s call. “She’s in this bar?” I ask Sam, my teeth going to town on my bottom lip, thinking, wondering, hoping.
“Yeah, you know, maybe we should go,” he says, taking my arm, undoubtedly feeling my anxiety. “Call her tomorrow.”
I roll my shoulder, shrugging him off, my eyes like lasers on the entrance. “I’m fine,” I insist, hearing Sam’s phone start ringing. I look at him, not liking his worried expression. “Kate?” I ask.
“No, John.”
“Don’t answer,” I order, nodding a hello at Jay, the doorman.
“Fuck you.” Sam laughs. “He might hesitate to sock you one to the chops, but he wouldn’t me. I’m not getting on the wrong side of that man for anyone.”
Drew laughs under his breath. “Pussy.”
“Meow,” Sam says, taking his phone to his ear. “Big man.” He starts pacing up and down, and I make a gesture to suggest I’ll break his neck if he so much as mentions where we are and why. “Yeah, he’s with me.” Sam takes a hand to his forehead, wiping away the stressed sweat. “Sober,” he confirms. “Sure will.” He hangs up and stuffs his phone in his pocket. “Promise me you’ll be cool.”
“What do you think I’m going to do?” I ask, insulted. “I’m just going to talk to her.” I stride into the bar, shaking Jay’s hand as I pass. “Busy?” I ask.
“Packed,” he confirms, and it sure is. The bar is ten deep, the dance floor crammed, the Saturday night crowd out in force.
But all of the chaos disappears when I spot her.
I’m forced to take a nearby ledge to steady myself, heart palpitations rendering me unable to squeeze any air out.
Look at her.
Just . . . look at her.
How the fuck did I walk away? Why the fuck did I walk away?
Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t currently be torn up inside with guilt and shame. Or, at least, more.
“You okay, man?” Sam asks, but my eyes don’t stray from Ava, and he follows my line of sight. “Okay,” he breathes. “Remember what I said?”
I remember fuck all.
She’s placing some drinks on a ledge, smiling at someone on the dance floor. Why is she on her own? Where are her friends? She turns and heads toward the bar, and I definitely detect a drunken sway. She’s had too much to drink, and she’s alone. A sitting duck. What the fuck is she playing at?
“Drink?” Drew asks, his voice distant.
“Get him a water,” Sam answers, seeing I’m in no position to form words. “Come on.” He tugs me toward a table near the front, and I let him lead me, my stare trained on Ava. She makes it to the bar where I see Kate talking to a guy. They say hello. Kate moves back, her attention on the guy, leaving Ava alone. Alone. Vulnerable. I don’t have a second to wonder what Sam might be making of this.