“How considerate of you. What about my feelings?”
“That’ll only make this worse.” And by this, he means the end.
“What evil dimension did I get dropped into?” I mean it rhetorically as I rub at my temples.
“Good question, but it’s for the best.”
“How can you say that?” If he feels a fraction of what I do, this must be shredding his guts.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he repeats his earlier demand in a much softer tone. It doesn’t change the outcome. He’s backing me into a corner without remorse.
“Maybe you could grant me more than five seconds to gather my composure. This is an ultimatum in disguise.” The argument is flimsy, even to my own ears.
“Pretending for the sake of sparing pain is only delaying the unavoidable. I already ripped the bandage off. We’re done.” His bleak tone does little to ease the blow.
“Fine,” I spit with a false sense of bravado.
Reeve waits, as if I should say more. What else is there? I’m not going to beg him to reconsider.
After another agonizing moment, he hangs his head. “I’m glad you agree.”
“Please leave,” I demand, attempting to keep my voice level.
“For what it’s worth, I could’ve loved you. If our circumstances were different,” he explains with that all-too-familiar RDF in tow.
How can he not see that I already love him? Fury rules over my command with clenched teeth. “Fuck you, Reeve Colton.”
He only gives a slow shake of his head before turning away from me for the final time. Each hollow thump of his retreat is a punch to my plummeting spirit. When the front door slams with his devastating exit, I crumple onto my bed and give my sorrow free rein.
The coaster under my glass is soggy from condensation. I rip at the ruined cardboard, avoiding my beer entirely. It’s pointless to chug the shit warm unless I’m drinking to forget. That’s not my purpose tonight.
A change in scenery has become a requirement. The crater in my gut is a festering wound, and the only cure is far beyond reach. Staying late at the office alone depletes any semblance of productivity. Surrounding myself with the guys in our bunk is worse for motivation. I figured, Why not try my loyal watering hole?
Unlike last week, the Salt Lick appears abandoned. The room smells of stale popcorn, rotten sweat, and desperation—a cologne for men wallowing in isolation created by their own stupidity. Only a few stragglers prop themselves on random ends of the bar. We make quite a pack of lonely souls.
It’s safe to say this scene doesn’t do wonders for stirring up encouragement. Perhaps everyone else received a memo about my miserable state and cleared out to give me space. I already have enough of that.
A brash slap of footsteps echoes across the dismal space. I don’t bother turning around. The lazy gait leaves little doubt that this is just another stag attendee for the pity party.
“Well, this feels familiar.”
Gavin earns a narrow glare as he slides in to occupy the stool beside me. “I’m not in the mood.”
He signals Buck for a beer. “Are we getting drunk? I can get us a ride home, no problem.”
I shake my head, continuing to ignore the untouched glass in front of me. “Nah, turns out that doesn’t make problems go away.”
A snort sends a puff of foam from his tall mug. “No shit. Liquid courage can be a real bitch.”
The urge to bang my forehead on the wood counter is a relentless shout. “I’ve learned that several times over.”
Gavin blinks at me. “You’re pathetic.”
“Thanks for noticing,” I deadpan.
“Good to see you’re out of the sweatpants phase, though. Maybe you’ll be ready for the strippers later.”
I glance down at my jeans. “Huh?”
He swats at the air. “Never mind. What happened to your determination?”
“I lost it.”
“Grand declaration of love?”
“Didn’t do it.”
He grunts. “Pride?”
“Gone,” I drone.
“And your girl is pissed,” he informs me with an eye roll.
As if I’m not fully aware of just how upset Audria is. He gets another glare for choosing to disrupt my solitude, whether I want company or not. “She isn’t mine. I made sure of that.”
He raps his knuckles on the bar. “Ah, this sounds like a great place to dive in. Tell me all about your sabotage.”
“As if you haven’t heard already.”
“Who would be privy to such private matters?” He brings up a decent point.
I slouch deeper in my seat. “I pulled the plug.”
Gavin makes an obnoxious display of pretending to yank a cord from the socket. “But why? We talked about this at length. You were pumped and ready to confess all those mushy feelings.”
A groan escapes before I can muffle the pitiful noise. “Don’t remind me.”
He clucks his tongue. “That’s precisely what I’m about to do, so buckle up.”
I hold up a palm. “I’m already well aware that I fucked up the best thing to ever happen to me. We don’t need to rehash my biggest failure.”
His frown drips sarcasm. “But how else will you learn?”
“From this horrible feeling in my chest.” I push on the spot from force of habit. It’s only been six days, but the damage is already irreparable.
He winces with a hiss. “Like it’s caving in?”
“Worse,” I complain.
“You’re fucked,” he confirms.
“Yup, I’m well aware.”
“But it’s not officially done until the skinniest cow tips over.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying not to laugh. His rules of thumb get more ridiculous with age. “Great. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“As you should. But hold that thought. Do you want a fresh Coors? That one looks flatter than my prom date.” He slaps my arm. “Remember Louise? I wonder what happened to her.”
This is the point where I reconsider drinking until I black out. “That’s insanely off topic.”
Gavin scoffs at my blatant lack of enthusiasm. “Because you’re being such an engaging conversationalist.”
“Excuse me for not dredging up more energy over a
