“Everly!” Gray’s voice begs me to stop, but I don’t.
I rush outside to the freezing cold weather and drag my suitcase through the snow. It can get wet for all I care. I’ve been living in this personal hell for too long. It’s time I go home now.
“Wait, you mad woman!” Gray yells, right before snatching the bag out of my hand.
“Gray, not right now, okay? I need to go. My flight leaves soon.” It doesn’t leave for another five hours, but an airport full of people I don’t know is better than this place.
He holds up his hand in surrender but doesn’t let my bag go. “I know, okay. I know you need to leave. I just want to say something real quick, and you can be on your way.”
I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot against the pressed snow. “Okay.”
“I don’t know everything that went on between you two, and I don’t know you too well, but you seem like a kind person—a good person. And whatever happened for you to run from him all those years ago, I think there is a reason, but you haven’t said it.”
He hands me his card with his cell phone number. “If you want to talk about it, call me. I can be your friend and his. And whatever we talk about, stays between us. He is hurt because he loves you still, so much—”
I snort. Yeah, seems like a lot of love.
He tilts his head and smiles sympathetically. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but heartbreak changes people. He is changed. And so are you. It was nice to meet you, okay?” He holds out his arms for a hug, and I comply.
He is a good friend. I’m happy for Rowan. I press my cheek against his chest, and it still doesn’t feel like Rowan’s. No one ever will.
“Take care of him for me.” I snatch my bag from his hands and unlock my car. “It was good to meet you, Gray. I hope you guys get everything you want.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods. “I hope the same for you, Everly.”
I give him a sad, forced smile and climb in the car. It takes all of my being not to look in the rear-view mirror as I chase the driveway down its paved path. I can’t look back. I just have to keep moving forward, and then maybe one day, the future won’t seem so daunting, and the past won’t seem so tempting.
Chapter 9 Rowan
It’s been fifteen hours since she left.
I’m at Flamingo’s, the new bar in Spokane, and I swirl the shot glass around in a circle on the bar, watching the amber liquid threaten to spill from the rim. It’s my birthday as of two minutes ago, and Gray got me a birthday shot since he has been twenty-one for a few months and wants me to celebrate.
“Staring at it won’t bring her back,” Gray comments as he sips on his beer and stares at the crowd of people filling the bar. It’s a neat place. Neon flamingos hang on the wall, there’s a dance floor, tables if you want food. Spokane has never had anything like this before, so I’m sure it will do well here.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I toss the shot back and wince as flames burn my throat. My eyes water, and the whiskey sits in my stomach, giving it a slight burn. I see why people drink it now. I haven’t thought of her for the entire ten seconds it took to swallow.
I wave the bartender down and signal him for another one.
“Okay, if that’s the case, let’s pick you up somebody. Let’s get you a warm body under that cold, broken heart of yours that you’ve been milking for two years.”
I lift a brow at Gray, but I don’t get mad. He is right. I should be over it by now, and I don’t know why I’m not. “I’m good. I don’t need anyone warming my bed. Leave the bottle,” I tell the bartender as he pours the shot right in front of me.
“Yes, you do. But the warm body you want is in New York City right now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want anything to do with her.” The lie poisons my tongue. I want everything to do with her.
“Liar,” he fires back, smiling at a big-breasted brunette as she walks by.
I toss the shot back and don’t say anything. So what if I do want Everly still, after she dragged my heart through barbed wire and nails. I just want to forget about her. I want to get so drunk, the memory of the brown-headed siren fades to black, and her name is nothing but a slur on my tongue.
“Can I ask you something?” He pulls the stool out and takes the shot from my hand that I just poured myself. He tosses the shot back and cringes. “Jesus, what is that? Well whiskey? We are millionaires, and you get well whiskey?” He waves the bartender over and pushes the Jack Daniels across the countertop. “Give us your best bottle of the expensive stuff.”
“The bottle is four hundred dollars.”
Gray doesn’t say anything in return, just stares waiting for the bartender to do something. “Oh, you are wanting a reaction. Yes, four hundred, it’s fine.”
“Oh, okay.” The bartender seems surprised. I don’t blame him. We are a bit young to ask for a bottle that expensive.
“I didn’t care about what kind of whiskey, Gray. I just wanted something.”
“To numb the pain,” he nods, as though he is finishing the sentence.
“No, to celebrate. I’m finally twenty-one. Woo!” I say, with no enthusiasm whatsoever.
“I don’t know how I’m friends with you, man. You can be so depressing sometimes.”
I
