“He didn’t hurt me, Keaston,” I whisper. “Not really. Just my pride and my heart,” I murmur, admitting it aloud and wondering why it hurts more to actually say the damn words.
He hums. “I see,” he mutters.
“Do you?” I ask, stabbing the rest of my eggs and bringing them to my mouth.
He leans back, still not touching any of his food. Though I’m not even upset about that, because honestly, it’s fucking terrible.
I finish my meal, wondering why I can’t just let this guy go and move the hell on?
We weren’t even in a real relationship, we fucked—a lot. But I’ve fucked a lot of men, so why did being with Hawk feel so much different?
“I do,” he murmurs. “Had my pride busted more than once.”
Nodding my head, I look down at my empty plate and wonder if the sensation, the way it feels, if it ever goes away. I don’t think that it does, at least not anytime soon. Because right now, it feels like it’s going to be here forever, a place in my heart, mind, and soul that will always need exactly what he can give.
“Does it get better, easier?” I ask.
He grunts. “No, you just get numb.”
“Well, that blows,” I snort.
“No shit.”
HAWK
Reaching for the bottle, I lift it to my lips and suck down a long pull, hissing as it burns going down my throat. Pinkie laughs from somewhere in the room, but I can’t focus on her or anything else, my vision is too fucking blurred.
“You’re going to be too fucked up to work on the plans for the Punchers,” a voice says from beside me.
Swinging my head around, I tilt back to look into the face of the man standing next to me. Narrowing my gaze, I try to focus on who it is talking. I blink a few times, then snort at the sight of Taz standing next to me. I’m surprised that Trista isn’t attached to his side, but I don’t see her anywhere, not that I can really focus on much.
“I’m over fifty, asshole, I can hold my own.”
Taz snorts before he leans forward. “I don’t give a fuck, Hawk. All I care about is that the Donkey Punchers pay for what they did to my woman. Don’t give a shit how much you drink, when, or where. You fuck this up and you’ll be lying next to those assholes though,” he growls.
I think about squaring up, about calling him out not only for being a dick, but for the way he’s talking to me right now, but I decide that shit would be worthless because I’m too drunk to take him down, and he’s too sober.
“Fuck off. I can and always have been able to handle myself,” I snort.
Taz shakes his head. “Brother,” he says, making a tsking sound. “You can’t handle shit. Run like a pussy at the first sign of trouble.”
“Walk away before you piss me off,” I growl.
He shakes his head, taking a step back. “If you’re not sober tomorrow morning, don’t fucking bother showing up. Clear heads only, Hawk.”
“Fuck off,” I shout.
I’ll do whatever the fuck I want and not even my son-in-law is going to stop me. I could give a fuck what he says or what he thinks. Lifting my bottle, I turn to face him, taking another pull as my eyes stay completely focused on his.
Taz watches me, his gaze never leaving my own. He smirks, then shrugs a shoulder. “How’s Avah doin’?” he asks in almost a sneer.
“Fuck. You,” I slur.
“Yeah, thought that was about it. Pussy.”
Without another word, he turns and walks away from me. I narrow my gaze on his back and wonder why my body isn’t moving and I’m not beating the absolute shit out of him. Tomorrow, I tell myself as I take another swig of booze.
Tomorrow.
Eventually, I stumble toward my bedroom, my bottle still in hand as I make my way toward the shower. Turning the water on hot, I strip out of my clothes and slip into the stall. The water is hot as it beats down on my back.
Lifting one of my arms, I rest my forearm against the warm tile and my forehead against my arm as I just stand there and let the water flow over me.
I’m fucked and I’m fucked up, something that I continue to do every minute of every goddamn day.
“Fuck,” I rasp. “Avah.”
I should have called her again, should check on my phone, but I’m too fucking drunk to remember to do that or to even read the small as shit text on my phone. Growling, I realize that Taz is right.
I’m a pussy.
I run away.
I told myself that this time, with Avah, that it was different and that I was different, but I did the same fucking shit. I ran from her just when I could have built something good with a woman that I actually liked, a gorgeous woman, I ran.
“You need me,” a soft voice practically sings.
Turning my head to the side, I blink. “Sable?”
“Yeah,” she purrs. “Miss you.”
She doesn’t miss me. I’m not that drunk. However, she’s pretty and here. I’m naked and missing Avah. It’s a shit thing to do, but I’m a shitty fucking human. Lifting my head, I bring the bottle to my lips and take another pull of booze.
The water continues to beat against me, this time pouring over my head and shoulders. “Suck,” I demand.
Her lips curve up into a grin. “Only if I can stay.”
Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers in the back of her hair. “You aren’t in the position to make deals, bitch,” I growl.
She doesn’t even flinch, her lips parting as though she loves this shit, which she probably does. I could see a bitch like her getting off on it all. Pissing off a man to the point of wanting to knock the absolute shit out of
