Once I reach Las Vegas city limits, I contemplate driving to the Strip and getting drunk at one of the popular spots with hundreds of tourists. Instead, I drive straight to Pete’s, the quiet bar Sebastian, Leo, and I tend to frequent. We visit less since Sebastian moved, but it’s where I need to be, even if it is only early afternoon.
Nostalgia hits me as I step over the threshold into the dimly lit country bar. Feels like I haven’t been here in years when it’s only been a few weeks. When I came with Leo and Jordan just to have a drink and chill. To get Jordan to understand that you can drink socially without needing to get your stomach pumped. That this is still a good time—drinking and hanging with the boys. It’s not all about the pussy.
In the end, only the right pussy will ever make you happy, but you have to be smart enough to keep it, cherish it, and hold it close to your heart.
But Jordan’s young. New and fresh. He just thinks with his dick.
And it’s all too familiar. We’re more alike than I care to admit.
I wave to Pete behind the bar, a rough older man with a black and gray beard, a scar down his neck to the side, and a silver hoop earring in one ear. “Whiskey, please.”
He nods, a man of few words, which I appreciate. Right now, I don’t need words. I don’t need advice or for anyone to tell me to “do the right thing” and go back to Emma.
What she and everyone else don’t understand is, I am doing the right thing. I’m staying away from her. I’m setting her free of my destructive tendencies. We had our fun, and now I’m letting her find the gentleman in a suit with a nice three-bedroom home for a big family. The one who will kiss her on the cheek when he gets home from his simple office job, then stick to missionary position in the bedroom.
That’s what a woman like Emma needs—stability.
I can’t offer her any of those things, so I let her go. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?
I let the harsh whiskey trickle down my dry throat, but it doesn’t make me feel better.
So I drink more.
My vision blurs as the sun slowly sets, but I can still make out Pete mumbling into the phone, side-eyeing me. And past him, a redhead makes doll eyes in my direction.
Tilting my head, I nod and try to wink, but close both my eyes. “That feels good,” I mutter to myself, the sound of my voice muffled by streams of whiskey and despair. And a ten-hour drive to LA and back.
I internally scold myself for not just calling Emma instead of driving all the way over there. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have nightmares tonight over the disappointment in her expression.
Laying my head on the cool bar, someone pats me on the back. “Rough night?”
I roll my eyes at the familiar voice and rub my hands down my face, my head pounding like I just lost a UFC fight. “Don’t start.”
“Can I get some peanuts and water?” Leo asks Pete.
“I don’t want that shit,” I grumble into my empty glass. I tilt it back anyway, trying to get even a drop, anything to distract me from Emma’s perfect curves and liberating smile.
“It’s not for you.”
“What’re you doing here?” I ask Leo but glare at Pete who shrugs. I know he called him. He’s done so too many times before.
“Don’t blame him for caring enough to call. We don’t want you walking into oncoming traffic again, do we?”
“I never did that.” I cough into my arm, the action hurting my throat. “I think I’m getting sick.”
“You’re lovesick.”
“I have a cold, fucker.” I cough again and wipe my snot on my sleeve.
“You’re an animal sometimes, you know?”
“What’re you doing here?” I ask again.
“I’m giving you a ride home.” He stands, the crunching of peanuts echoing in my head as though I’m the one eating them. He pats my back before sarcastically saying, “Let’s get you in a nice, warm bath before I tuck you in.”
“You’re an ass. I don’t need you to babysit me.”
“Someone needs to make sure you don’t drown in your own puke… or piss.”
“Shouldn’t you be out trying to get laid instead of putting a grown man to bed? What’s it been for you, three? Four months?”
My head lolls to the side as he sighs, the sound magnified in my head like he yelled at me.
“I’m sick. I have a cold.” I rub my temples.
“You’re already hungover, is what you are.”
“You’re hungover.”
“Okay, now you’re just being immature. Let’s go.” He pulls on my arm, but I swat him away. Then someone else grabs my other arm. Too weak and indifferent to fight back, I let Leo and Pete drag me outside.
Once we stop by Leo’s Jeep and Pete goes back in, his soft steps barely audible, I shove Leo away. “Get off me.”
“Dude, calm down.”
“You calm the fuck down.” I rub my hands down my face like that’ll help me rub the alcohol out of me. But nothing will help me out of the abyss I’m sinking into. The same abyss I fall into year after year. “You don’t have to keep babysitting my ass. Especially since you’re leaving. I can take care of myself, anyway.”
He curses, pacing away from me before turning on his heel. “I wish I could believe you, but I’ve seen this too many times,” he yells, small drops of spit grazing my numb face. “When are you going to move on, man? It’s been, what, thirteen years? Thirteen years, and no one’s come forward. No new developments. I get it. You’re suspended in midair with no closure. No capability of moving forward. I know. I—”
“You don’t know,” I whisper. “You don’t know what this shit feels like. How could you possibly know?”
Leo’s face twists under the dim lighting of the moon.
The parking lot is empty, except for a few teenagers on skateboards riding by.
“How can I move on when the world stopped spinning that day? To you, it was just another day. To me, it was the last day I took a deep breath.” I gulp. My breathing becomes labored as I speak the truth out loud, and my head spins from admissions and alcohol warring within me. “And just when I thought I saw an out, a sliver of hope, one shard of happiness, I screwed it up. Because it wasn’t real.”
“It was real. Emma is real.”
“Yes, but not for me. She was never meant for me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“She deserves more than half of me. Don’t you get it?” I rub my chest, swaying to the side before falling on my ass in the middle of the parking lot.
Laying my head in my hands between my knees, I rock back and forth like I did as a kid. Like I did when I was afraid of the dark and my sister would come into my room, her tiny feet covered in socks so our parents wouldn’t hear her get out of bed. She’d rub my back with one hand and read from my favorite book with the other.
She’d stay with me until I fell asleep.
She was always there for me, but when she needed me most, I was all the way on the other side of the country. How can I possibly live with the fact that I let her down?
How can I move on?
CHAPTER 44
Emma
Kendall knocks the kale chip from my hand onto the floor. Lifting my head up, I scowl at her. “What the hell?”
She pushes my legs off the couch and sits next to me. “I’m going to give you some tough love here. But only because I love you. You did the same for me last year, and I’m returning the favor.” She smiles wistfully. “Although I won’t be climbing on top of you to knock some sense into you…”
I smile back, knowing the incident she’s referring to when I literally yanked her out of bed to snap her out of her funk.
Oh…
As the realization sets in, I say, “Wait, I don’t need this—”
“But you do. Look at you, wallowing? Nonstop Netflix for two days and chips? Kale but still. They’re out of the bag.” She scrunches her face and takes said offensive bag from my hands. “Emma, you a
lways bake them yourself, if you eat them at all.”
I lift my chin up. “I thought I’d give these a try. I’m busy and don’t have time to bake.”
“I saw the Halo Top ice cream in the freezer…”
I gulp. “It’s low in calories.”
“… right next to the half-eaten pint of Ben and Jerry’s.”
I exhale, defeated and tired. I can’t argue with her. Not only is she seeing right through me, but I also don’t have the energy.
Truth be told, for the last three weeks, I’ve let my diet get away from me. Plus, I never used to drink much wine before I met Ty, and now it’s getting out of hand. It’s all taking a physical toll on me, not to mention the emotional toll everything with Ty has brought on.
I’m behind on work, and Kendall and Wren have been covering most of my classes because I can’t bring myself to face the people who used to bring me joy. Doing yoga with them brought me happiness, but things are different now.
It’s a cluster. An absolute vicious cluster, like I’m a needle in a haystack and can’t find my way out.
This is what I tell Kendall. I tell her everything while she nods, holds my hand, and takes sips of my wine. I tell her about sleeping with Ty in secret, the fun we were having, until the sun set on our whirlwind affair.
She only nods along, crunching on the kale chips she stole from me.
I shake my head, lost in my narrative, then whip toward her. “Wait, why are you not more shocked right now? About Ty and me sneaking around for like, five months?”
“You’re not exactly Lara Croft, you know. Sebastian and I both suspected it, the way you two bicker at each other like if you don’t rip each other’s clothes off, you’ll die.” She smiles mischievously. “Plus, I found his boxers in your room when I went in to steal—I mean, borrow—your straightener.”
I roll my eyes, exhaling in frustration and relief that they know about us. “Ty and I have nothing in common to begin with. He’s so… so…”
“Hot? Fun? Smart? Yeah, he’s nothing like you.” Her sarcasm oozes from her like a nasty pimple popping. It disgusts me all the same, because she’s not getting it.
Or because she is, and I’m disgusted with myself.
Too many emotions.
So much confusion.
I run my hands through my hair, not remembering the last time I washed it, and desperately try to regain control. Groaning, I lay my head on the back of the couch and prop my feet on the coffee table.
Kendall gasps. “You never let me put my feet up here!”
“Relax. You do it all the time, anyway.”
“True.” She sits back next to me. “But talk to me. What are you so afraid of?”
“Okay, maybe we have some things in common, strange things you might not expect, and no matter how much fun we have together or how special it is, it doesn’t change the fact that his job involves him stripping naked and flirting with women. It involves him being and creating a fantasy for them that I don’t know how to handle.”
“When I fell for Sebastian, I thought about the same things, but then, the more time I spent with him, the more I realized he wasn’t who he portrayed on stage. When he was with me, he was just Sebastian. It’s like he was an actor when he was with Naked Heat.” She grins, fidgeting with the edge of a blanket, and I know she’s probably thinking about him now.
I want so badly to ask her how she did it. How she changed her perspective and let go. I’m about to ask her for a flowchart, with a timeline and everything, but I stop myself. The one thing separating Ty and me that Kendall never had to deal with.
“He kissed someone else.”
“Emma, he’s not Brant. I know Brant hurt you, but Ty wouldn’t do that. He worships you. Anytime we talk about you, his face lights up with hope and admiration and everything in between. You can’t let what Brant did to you keep you from being happy with someone else.”
“I’m not talking about Brant.” I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut, desperately wishing I didn’t have to say these next words. My voice drops to a whisper, making Kendall sit up. “Ty. We ended whatever thing we had because he kissed some girl. I mean, it would’ve ended eventually, but…” I sigh, then sit up, reaching for my glass of wine. “He let me go. He tried to explain but made it worse, then walked away.”
She watches me, and her lack of movement makes me wonder if she doesn’t believe me, her oldest friend. Then I realize she’s not really watching me. The wheels in her head are spinning, and her eye twitches, barely in the corner.
“Kendall?”
At the sound of her name, she jumps off the couch. “That motherfucker! I’m going to kill him. Kick him in the nuts and carve him into pieces like Dexter, then dump his ass into the Pacific!” She paces the living room, mumbling to herself about needing a ton of Saran wrap. Her chest heaves as her anger takes over.
I can be feisty, but Kendall is another story. Her anger has even gotten her into trouble a few times. “Kendall…”
She stops pacing, her finger tapping her chin. “Or maybe I’ll go Nip/Tuck on him and make his dick so small no other woman will want him.” She nods to herself, her eyes bulging out of her head.
I give her a moment to sort through all the different ways she can make Ty pay, her first reaction in her cycle of grief. Eventually, she returns her gaze to me, sitting back down slowly with eyebrows furrowed. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe this.”
“I was angry at first. And now, I’m apparently wallowing.” I laugh humorlessly. “I’m dreading seeing his stupid face at your wedding stuff. I mean, isn’t Sebastian too good to be Ty’s friend, anyway?”
Her breathing slows. “I hope he and Sebastian have been friends long enough that his good habits have rubbed off on Ty. Sebastian tends to be persistent, no matter the level of irritation he causes.” She smiles.
“Are you saying Ty will fight for me?” I whisper, afraid to even ask.
“I’m saying that’s what I want to believe. I want to believe in your happy ending. But most importantly, I want you to believe you deserve one too. Maybe it’s not with Ty, but someone. If only you’re open to it.”
“You’re right, but he needs to work some things out,” I mumble, recalling his clouded gaze when he told me about his past. It breaks my heart all over again. Then I pull Kendall by the arm to rest my head on her shoulder. “How did you get to be so insightful?”
“Well… you. You’re the strongest woman I know.”
I squeeze her tightly as her words settle into my mind.
I know she’s right.
I’m confident.
Worthy.
I am strong. And it’s about time I acted like it.
CHAPTER 45
Emma
I take the burger from his hands, mid-bite, with his mouth open like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and I fight the urge to hurl it against the wall. To watch it slide down, condiments dripping like the dark streaks he’s left in my life.
“What the hell, girl?” Ty visibly gulps.
Sitting across from him, I take in the old country bar. Folding my hands on the table in front of me, I turn my attention back to him and lean closer. “You don’t deserve my help.”
He wipes his mouth, watching me. More specifically, my lips. It’s distracting and reminds me how much I miss his eyes undressing me before his hands remove my clothing.
Before his presence tears down all my walls.
His blue eyes are more piercing than ever, but the rest of him seems… broken.
As for me, almost two months have gone by painstakingly slowly. Since Kendall snapped me out of my rut, I spent a couple weeks getting everything back up to date. I’ve had my studio and the animal shelter to keep me busy during the day, and cleaning my empty apartment fills my nights.
It’s made me realize Ty is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. Sitting across from him, I miss the way we laughed together. How he made me feel in and out of the bedroom.
/>
I even miss being annoyed by him.
I miss him.
And because he hasn’t been answering my calls, I hopped on a plane to see him in person.
Inhaling, I steady my voice, determined not to let him affect me. Not to give him any more power. I’m here on a mission.
“You don’t deserve my help,” I repeat more firmly. “I’m not here because you deserve anything from me, but I want to help you move on. Not with me, but with your life.” I choose my next words carefully. “I’m sorry about your sister.”
He pushes his food away, his obvious shock at seeing me here now gone. “You don’t know the half of it,” he spits.
“So tell me.”
He looks around the restaurant in horror. Granted, I would rather do this at his apartment, but Sebastian said he hasn’t been there much lately. He finally spilled that Ty’s been hanging around a dusty bar called Pete’s.
“No.” He narrows his gaze at me, making me think my pushiness is getting me into more trouble than good.
We’re at a standstill.
His jaw is set, and my eyes are trained on him like they are when I study a bar full of weights, about to do squats.
Determined, I lean over the table and squeeze his cheeks between my thumb and fingers, bringing him back to reality, the one he so badly wants to escape. “You basically moved in here. I mean, do you pay rent yet? Does Pete know he has a squatter? Look at you. When was the last time you showered or at least changed your clothes? You smell like peanut butter and”—I take a whiff—“mustard. You smell like a gorilla’s asshole.”
“That’s what a gorilla’s asshole smells like? Very specific.”
I glare at him, his lips smashed together in my hand like a fish.
“Listen, I don’t need your fucking help.” He pushes my hand off him, holding it briefly before letting it fall. He glances once more at me, then stands.
“What’re you doing?”
“I don’t know why you came all the way over here. I haven’t been answering your calls for a reason. I’m a big boy. I don’t need you to babysit me or worse, try to understand how I feel.” He lowers his voice to a sad whisper, like an afterthought. Like the ominously slow drizzle after a strong rain. “You can’t possibly know the constant agony that consumes me. The nightmares I can’t unsee of her cold, unmoving body as I laid my best friend into the ground.”
Let Loose for Me Page 21
