One Last Shot (Pub Fiction #3)

by Gillian Jones

  Matty.

  His note.

  The ceremony.

  Our dance.

  The bathroom.

  My words.

  His words.

  The fact that he’s done with me.

  “Oh, God.” A surge of tears pricks my eyes at the realization.

  “And there it is,” Kat says from Bora Bora. “I thought it might take a minute. Sober up, apologize to Felix for stumbling over him, and process the night. Then call me if you need help filling in some of the blanks. I’ll tell you what I heard from you. You didn’t want to say much, so I’m not quite sure of it all, but I love you and I’m here.”

  “Okay. I will. But wait…tell me, did I ruin your night?” I ask, my voice panicked.

  “No. Not at all, if anything I was amazed how well you held it together once you opened up a bit about what happened between you guys. But you refused to discuss it even though I tried to press, deciding that drinking and dancing was the best cure in the moment, so that’s what we did.”

  “Thank goodness, I would have died if I was all drama. I’m not going to lie, I’m having a hard time filling in some parts of the evening.”

  She laughs. “I figured, we’ve all had that happen. Know that we had a great time, all us girls. Well, I did anyway, until Ryker stole me away to head out. Which, I might add, was so funny when you gave him the ‘you better make me an aunt and soon’ speech.”

  “Good for me. I agree with Drunken Claire, you need a baby ASAP. God, I’m even smart when I’m a wino, eh?” We both laugh.

  “Yes, you’re something. Regardless, we all had a good time and that’s what matters, despite what went down with you and Matt. Apparently you, Brooke, and the girls closed the place down. Wes drove you home, in case you forgot,” she laughs. “Anyway, the day was amazing. I just wanted to call to check in before I relax and start enjoying my honeymoon, hence the call.”

  “Thanks, Kat. I love you. I’ll be okay. I just need to sort my shit out and figure out my next move. I can’t leave things like this between Matt and I. He was so hurt. I was awful,” I say through tears which have bubbled up suddenly.

  “Ah, sweetheart, we’ll figure it out. It’s Matty. He loves you.”

  “I dunno, Kat. I might have pushed him so far away this time that I might not be able to salvage it,” I sniffle.

  “I can come home if you need me to. I’ll come throttle both you and Matt, shake some sense into you both,” she laughs. “I’m sure Ryker will understand. You need me more. We can always come back at March Break, right?” Kat jokes, trying to sound like she really means it to make me feel better. And she does, she makes me smile. This girl is incredible. I have no doubt that if I really needed her, she totally would come home. Knowing that serves to reiterate just how amazingly lucky I am to have her as a friend, and a sister. Lucky for her and Ryker, there’s no way in hell that will be happening; like I’d let a bit fuckedupness on my part ruin her honeymoon. Besides Ryker would legit hold a witch hunt and burn me at the stake if I tried to ruin his Wifey Time.

  “Kat Rollins, you bite your friggin’ tongue! You’re insane. As if my boy drama would require you having to come home from your honeymoon. Fuck, I love you. I know you’d come if I really did need you, and I love you all the more for it, but relax with the crazy talk. I’m a big girl and this is my bed to lie in. I’ve got some soul searching to do. You can’t always be worrying about me, Stressor. Honestly, it was just a tiff. Matt and I will figure it out,” I lie, not sure I believe my own words.

  “I know,” she laughs, “I was being a bit dramatic. I guess I just wanted you to know that if you needed me, I’d be there without question.”

  “Kat, I know that without a doubt. Listen, give me these two weeks to sort my shit out before you come home to intervene. Besides, I haven’t told you everything yet, I’m not innocent by any means, and there is a lot to tell. I planned on telling you, but after your honeymoon.”

  “I knew there was more than what you were saying last night. I knew it. Considering you were barely alone with him at the wedding, there was a lot I was lost about…you dirty little sneak.”

  “There is—I’ll tell you, I promise. And I’ll be fine. I’m just feeling sorry for my messed up emotionally-challenged self right now. I’ll fess up and take complete ownership of my fuckedupness. Then you can figure out how to make it better. Okay?”

  “Two weeks, Claire Bear. I love you.”

  Ending the call, I reach for my laptop, booting it up before heading to the washroom and kitchen. “Come on, Felix, let mommy feed you now while I’m up. That way we can live in peace today.”

  A few minutes later, I settle back into my bed, the smell of fresh coffee brewing and saturating the house with its promise of new life. With the small remote, I hit shuffle on the iPod docked on my dresser before retrieving my laptop from the floor beside my bed. The Chainsmokers’ “Until You Were Gone” reaches my ears and the lyrics aren’t lost on me. “Huh, how fitting.” I turn the volume up, listening, focusing on everything that’s happened between Matt and I. This song is beyond fitting, so much so that it actually freaks me out, if I’m being honest.

  “Left you just to find out that I need ya…”

  Jeez, I couldn’t get much closer to this being my life if I was singing the lyrics myself. I sigh, dragging the cursor to my Gmail, once again pulling up the drafts folder. Let the torment begin. Why does this have to be so hard? Why do insecurities, doubt, and straight up fear have to take precedence in my mind? Why can’t I let myself take what I want?

  I can’t believe I let things escalate like this. I feel sick. The thought of never having his eyes reach mine, of never having his sweet kisses connecting with my lips, or his touch lingering on my skin, guts me. Matt Bishop owns me, he always has. From the minute we met, I saw a future with him. Matt made me want to believe in love, in the possibility of a happily ever after. And part of me started hating him for that. But why in the hell did I let myself lose sight of him…of us, let the worry overtake all the good that was us, the happiness he gave me? Why the hell did I allow myself to hate what I’d come to love the most?

  After finding the one draft letter I have in mind, I open it, contemplating whether or not it’s time. Wondering if I’m ready. The hollow feeling in my chest is arguing—better yet, it’s screaming—“yes!” And finally, as if a streetlight at the end of the darkest road just turned on for the first time in ten years, the rest of me agrees.

  I know what I need to do.

  It’s time to heal.

  Time to move on.

  Grabbing my phone, I text Kat, and as I text, a real honest-to-goodness smile begins to rise across my lips.

  Things are about to change—I can feel it.

  Now to sort my shit out.

  Chapter 24

  Claire

  Pulling up to the cemetery, I’m a bundle of nerves. My stomach is in knots as I replay the lines I’ve been rehearsing over and over. I park my car along the gravel road and make my way over to my parents, weighed down with almost ten years of guilt.

  It’s a beautiful morning, the sun is shining, and there are people scattered here and there paying respects to their loved ones. Taking in the scene, I can’t believe I’ve been living without my mom and dad for so long, that so much time has passed since the accident.

  My heart lurches in my chest as I approach their shared headstone. I stop, staring breathlessly at the inscription:

  In Loving Memory of Livianna and Syd Knox

  Beloved Mommy and Daddy Extraordinaire

  I run my fingers along the words engraved in the black granite, smiling at the perfect description, one I’ve never even seen.

  Yep. I’m an asshole. I’ve never been here before. Not the day of the funeral, and certainly not after. No matter how hard people tried to convince me, I wouldn’t do it. The way I saw it, if I came here it was admitting defeat, like I was telling Mom and Dad that I accepted their passing. That I was mo
ving on. I know it’s ridiculous, and I’m probably the worst daughter in the history of daughterhood.

  Matty’s right. It’s true. I’m nothing more than a chickenshit. I’ve let my stupid notions about being left behind dictate my whole life. And now I’m here and I’m angry. Angry with myself for never coming to pay my respects, angry with Matt for being, well—Matty—and angry at my parents for going out that night. I’m just so flippin’ angry at it all.

  As the years passed, Mary and Doug never pressured me to come. They themselves would visit frequently, usually on Sundays after breakfast, and they always offered to bring me. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t seem to muster the nerve. Thinking about it now that I’m standing here, I continue to question what the heck I’ve been doing all this time. What type of person doesn’t even go to their parents’ grave?

  Dropping to my knees on the soft grass, every shred of composure I thought I had is obliterated as I process my actions and I start to cry, the hardest I’ve cried in forever. Tears cascade down my cheeks but I manage to begin the talk I planned on the drive.

  “Hi, Mom. Dad.” God, this is hard. “Please, I hope you can forgive me for not coming sooner,” I sob, a fresh batch of tears clogging my throat. “I’m so sorry. Just don’t hate me, don’t think I don’t love or miss you or think of you every single day.” I sniff. “I just, I…”

  I can’t get the words out, my chest heaving as I sit with the people I need and miss the most in the world, having confessed how stupid I’ve been. Praying to God that they can hear me and not begrudge me for not being here sooner.

  “I’ve been such a mess. I’m a coward, the worst daughter. I hope you can forgive me. I don’t want you disappointed in me. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll visit all the time. I know you’ve been watching over me, I swear I can feel you guys. I miss you both so much it hurts. I’m so sorry. And now I’m here because I realized I’m an idiot, that I’ve been wrong all this time. Not just about not coming to see you, but with the choices I’ve made, and the people I’ve hurt.”

  Matt’s words about loving him like I was losing him repeat in my mind. Sitting here, I’m in gut-twisting pain. The kind of pain I’d be in if I’d lost him. I feel an emptiness that I haven’t felt since I was fourteen. I do feel the loss of him this time, and I know he was serious about being done with me, and it’s on me. I know it’s now time for me to fight to get him back. I cry harder, wishing like hell I could have my mom’s advice about Matt and what the hell to do.

  “I need help, Mom. Why did I wait so long to come?”

  I know she’d have some amazing advice. When I was a kid she was always so intuitive and knew exactly what to say. She would have been the best sounding board. The realization that we’re never going to have these types of conversations hits me hard, causing another wave of sadness to wash over me.

  “You just weren’t ready, kiddo. Now you are and it’s as simple as that. We all deal with things in our own way, you got me?”

  I relax, recognizing not only Mary’s gentle voice, but the familiar touch of her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay to be here now, Claire. There’s no need to feel guilty about not visiting before today. You were young, angry and confused. You’ve been in a state of limbo for years; don’t be so hard on yourself. Believe me, your parents are proud of the woman you’ve become.”

  “How did you know I was here?” I ask, wiping my eyes with a Kleenex from Mary.

  “Kat,” we say at the same time, sharing a tension-breaking laugh.

  “Of course. I should have known,” I smile.

  “Claire, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got poor Ryker sitting at the airport waiting to come home this minute. She was so worried about you coming here alone after all this time. It took me a bit to convince her to wait before she hijacked a plane to get here,” she smiles, taking a spot beside me on the lush grass. “Here,” she says, handing me her phone. “I told her I’d get you to text her once I found you.” Taking the phone, I text Kat. Like before, I tell her to stop stressing, and to go be a normal newlywed.

  Me: Stop being “Stressor”. I’m honestly good. Promise.

  I smile, anticipating her reply. The ding is immediate.

  Kat: U sure? This is big, Claire.

  “You’re right, Mary. I think she was sitting on the phone.” We both laugh as I type back again.

  Me: Don’t you dare come home. It was time for me to see my parents. I wouldn’t have told you until after anyway ;) I finally decided to grow a pair!

  Kat: You’re annoying. I’m flippin’ proud of you, though! <3

  “Okay, crisis averted, I think she’ll be fine.” I show Mary the screen before I tap out a final text.

  Me: I love you too. See you soon for our intervention. Xoxo

  Kat: Love you more. Be ready! LOL xox

  “Thanks, I think she needed that,” I laugh, handing Mary back her phone.

  “No problem, I’m sure that will satisfy her for now,” she says, stuffing the phone in the back pocket of her shorts.

  We sit quietly for a few minutes before Mary breaks the comfortable silence that’s settled between us. “Do you want to talk about it, sweetheart? I saw you and Matt last night. Seemed like things were a little tense,” she observes, and I nod.

  “Yeah, we’re having some communication issues, I guess you could say. He wants me, I want him, but I just can’t seem to let myself have him. I’m too scared he’s gonna leave me, like he’s going to get hurt or realize I’m not worth all the hassle. Then on top of it, I come here and everything comes flooding back: the pain, the loss, the guilt, feeling like an ass for never coming to see my own parents to pay them the respect they deserve…” I exhale with a sob, thinking of the mess I’ve made of my life. The tightness in my chest is suffocating; it takes what feels like minutes to catch my breath. “How did my plan backfire like this?”

  “Ah, honey, I think you’re perfectly normal, if you ask me. All this means is that you’re finally ready to face all the things you’ve been avoiding in the past, head on. Your parents’ deaths, as well as what you’d like to see happen between you and Matt. You’re ready to heal.”

  “Pardon my French, Mary, but how the fuck did I do this to myself? When the hell did I get to be so weak? I mean, I’m Claire Fucking Knox! You’re right, I need to get myself back.”

  “Oh, Claire. We both know I’m fluent in French.” She waves her hand flippantly, laughing. “Now grab your bag, I want to take you to the place I go every Sunday after I visit your mom and dad. I think you’re ready. I even think you’ll appreciate it now. Let’s go get that crazy Claire Knox to come out and fight again,” she says.

  Mary helps me to stand back up, and gives me the tight hug I need.

  It’s time to kick the shit out of those damn bridge trolls once and for all!

  Chapter 25

  Matt

  Waking up this morning after the wedding, I’m foul. Pissed off, hurt and just fucking foul. After my talk with Levi, I hooked back up with Justin and the guys, polishing off one too many bottles of whiskey. A bottle that’s now beating the shit out of my head—point, alcohol; a resounding loss for Bishop.

  Too bad, I’ve got too much pent up aggression to care. Skipping the breakfast invitation with the guys, I find myself at The Locker Room, pounding the shit out of the speedbag. One of the advantages of owning a place like this is twenty-four hour access to the top-notch gym, one I can come to whenever I want, even on a Sunday when I’m hungover and barking mad.

  “It’s all fuckin’ bullshit. I know it is, but I’m done. I gotta get over it. I need to be done,” I say to myself in the empty gym, the echo of my punches meeting my ears as I attack the speedbag faster and faster, until sweat drips from my chin.

  Hearing my phone, I stop, like the chump I am. Of course, deep inside I’m hoping it’s Claire but knowing her, I know better. Grabbing my towel, I wipe my face and glance at the screen. Ryker. Who the hell else would call from their honeymoon?
/>   “Miss me already, fucker?” I greet him.

  “You wish. I told Kat I’d call you to make sure you’re okay. She’s been talkin’ to Claire, I guess we missed some drama. How you holding up, wanna talk?”

  “Nah, man, go sex up your wife for the next two weeks. We can talk when you’re back. I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Claire’s telling Kat, too. You’re both fucking liars. You just need to go over there and hash all this shit out for good. Then I can start my honeymoon. I swear to God, if Kat makes me come home ’cause she’s worried about you two, you’ll be dead to me. This is my sexy time, don’t you ruin it, fucker.”

  “Tell Kat to stop worrying. Claire and I are adults, we’ll sort this through eventually. But there isn’t much left to hash out. We’ve had the final round, both said shit we can’t take back. I just gotta move on, bro. I think I’m done for good this time. Can’t keep letting her string me along. But listen, I appreciate the call. We’ll talk when you’re back. Go be the doting husband.”

  “Okay, man. We’ll be back before ya know it. My cell is here, so call if you need. I mean that, as much as it kills me and I hope for your sake you don’t call.”

  “Aw, Rykie, you really do love me,” I chuckle.

  “Whatever, dick.”

  “No, seriously man, thanks. Now go be with Kat. I’m good, really.” I hang up on him then make my way to the shower.

  Chapter 26

  Claire

  “I hate you,” Kat pouts, sitting across from me in the oversized booth, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

  I haven’t seen Kat since she came back from her honeymoon, which I just finished hearing about in all its gory love-themed detail, exactly what you might expect from Mr. and Mrs. Ryker Eddison. We’re sitting at Fine Grind, one of our favourite coffee shops, and per the pact we arranged while she was away, we’re here to talk about my so-called intervention.