Chapter Three
I end up at a small bar about a block away—a dimly lit refuge from the harsh realities of the corporate world, its wooden floors scuffed from years of traffic. I order a shot of Wild Turkey, the burn of it going down my throat a welcome distraction. The heat slowly spreads through my chest, momentarily blurring the lines of reality.
My reality.
My reality that no longer includes Skye Manning.
This isn’t me.
This isn’t Braden Black.
Braden Black doesn’t let a woman get to him like this.
I did the right thing, damn it. She can’t be in my world if she doesn’t understand herself.
And I can’t be in hers.
I’m not wired for emotional vanilla sex.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
It’s Ben. I ignore the call and gesture to the barkeep for another shot. Instead of downing it, though, I sip it, let it trickle over my tongue with its smoky caramel flavor.
It’s early for drinking, but the bar is hardly empty. People around me are engrossed in their own conversations, their laughter muffled by the soft jazz playing in the background. Time seems to slow down, and I welcome the respite.
I can’t always be Atlas, bearing the weight of the entire world on my shoulders.
“Get over yourself,” I say under my breath.
I hardly bear the weight of the world, but I do bear the weight of a multi-billion-dollar company. So many people depend on me for their livelihoods. I can’t let them down.
My thoughts wander back to the meeting I walked out on—the puzzled looks on my father’s and Ben’s faces—but I push them aside, focusing instead on the bluesy notes wafting through the room.
My phone buzzes again.
Ben.
Again I ignore him, but just as I’m about to shove the phone back in my pocket, I get a notification.
Skye has posted on Instagram.
Fuck.
Don’t look, Braden. Don’t fucking look.
So of course I look.
Two new posts. The first is a selfie. Her hair is down, not styled—the way I like it best, to be honest. But her eyes are bloodshot and slightly swollen, and her nose is a bit pink.
She’s been crying.
The thought makes my heart ache. Then I can’t help a small smile. She’s an influencer, and she’s showing her followers her true self. Addie would never dare to post a photo of her looking anything other than perfect.
Pride swells through me. I’m proud of Skye. She is her own person, and she owns it.
I read the caption.
Not every day is sunshine and filters. Sometimes life hits hard, and no amount of pretending can cover up the real feelings. I debated sharing this, but I know I’m not the only one who struggles. This is me, raw and real, after a good cry. Remember, it’s not about having it together all the time—it’s about picking ourselves back up, even if it takes a minute. Let’s be kinder to ourselves. Let’s be kinder to each other. #RealLife #ItsOkayNotToBeOkay #VulnerabilityIsStrength #SelfLove #Healing #CryingItOut #MentalHealthMatters
Fuck.
If I couldn’t love her more…
I swallow the lump in my throat—along with another sip of bourbon—and look at the next post.
It’s a photo simply of her hand, her nails painted a bright pink. Damn, she has beautiful hands. So seldom has she touched me with them. I usually keep them bound.
I don’t usually want to be touched. I want to do the touching.
Some days are harder than others, but that’s when I turn to the power of pink. When the day feels heavy, a pop of color reminds me to embrace my boldest, most fearless self. This is Make Things Happen from Susie Girl Cosmetics by Susanne. It’s my secret to feeling unstoppable, even on the toughest days. #Sponsored #SusieGirl #SusanneCosmetics #MakeThingsHappen #PowerOfPink #NeonNails #FeelGoodVibes #PolishYourMood
Already she has tons of likes and comments.
We all have bad days. Sending hugs! Easy does it. You got this!
That pink is fabulous! Pink power!
Girl power!
Don’t let life drag you down! You rock, Skye!
Gorgeous color! You’re still beautiful!
What happened? Sending lots of love.
That color rocks on you. You should be a hand model.
Don’t let the bastards get you down!
I’m tempted to call her.
No.
Maybe text her. Tell her the posts are awesome.
No.
I’ve got to be strong. She needs time to figure herself out.
Perhaps I need time as well.
I take another sip of my drink as someone sits down next to me.
“Hi there.”
I turn to see a blond woman smiling at me. Her eyes are a mesmerizing sea-green color, and she has a playful sparkle in them. She’s not really my type.
My type is Kansas farm girl with control issues.
“You’re hitting the sauce early,” she says.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I reply.
She smiles. “In that case, can I get you another?”
“Thanks, but no.” I shoot the rest and signal the bartender for my bill.
“My name’s Sally,” she says.
I nod.
“Uh…that’s your cue to give me your name.”
“Braden.”
Her eyes go wide. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re Braden Black!”
“I am. I’m also leaving.”
“Don’t run from me,” she says playfully.
“I’m not running from you.”
“Well, you’re definitely running from something…or someone.”
Damn. Am I that obvious?
She doesn’t press for more information.
Instead, “I’ll have what he’s having,” she says to the bartender.
“Put it on my tab,” I say, “but I’m still leaving.”
She grabs my hand.
Not so much as a spark, not that I expected there to be.
“Please don’t go,” she says. “You look like you could use a friend.”
Right. I know what kind of friend she’s looking for. The kind with billions of dollars in the bank. I’m not biting.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” I walk toward the door.
Only to run into my brother.
“Figured I might find you here,” Ben says.
“There’s a live one at the bar,” I tell him. “Tell her you need a friend.”
He looks over at Sally. “Damn, dude. She’s hot. Too bad you’re taken. I, however, am decidedly not.”
“Neither am I,” I say dryly.
Ben meets my gaze. “So that’s what’s going on.”