Chapter 3 #2
I barely register Dilynne’s encouragement because all it took was that one hit for me to snap. Sweat beads at my temples with every swing. I never knew the sound of a car crumpling beneath a bat could be so magical. It makes the lyrics of that Carrie Underwood song make so much more sense now.
Once the bat has lost its luster, I toss it to the side and grab the sledgehammer, ready to do more damage.
Dilynne slow-claps from her post far out of the way. “That’s it. Really get to work now.”
I still don’t respond. I’m too transfixed on causing the most damage I can as memories of my relationship flash through my mind—the night I saw her in Nashville after years of distance, the way she flirted with me, how eager she was to take me back to her apartment that night, and how she fell apart in my arms the next morning after she admitted regretting how awful she was in high school.
Her honesty surprised the hell out of me, and it was the catalyst for hours of conversation that I rarely had with a hookup. But that’s when I felt something shift in my chest—the feeling of being alone no longer as exciting as being able to laugh with someone and let out raw, unfiltered thoughts.
Fuck, what a load of shit.
“Fucking bitch,” I mutter as I take the next swing.
“You can say that again,” Dilynne says as she continues to watch me.
“I fucking hate her.”
“I hated her long before you ever started dating her, so welcome to the club.”
I shoot her a glare and throw a heavy swing of the hammer to the front windshield, shattering the glass and watching it spray across the ground and inside the car.
I don’t stop until my arms are heavy, my grip is slipping, and my lungs are burning.
I finally toss the sledgehammer to the side, plant my hands on my hips, and tip my head back, staring up at the cloudless sky as I catch my breath.
“Come on, Thorne.” Dilynne’s boots crunch on the gravel and shattered glass as she moves closer. “You’re done.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, even as I stagger a step back.
“Yeah. You look great.”
She grabs my arm before I can argue further, steadying me as we head back to her car.
The next thing I know, Dilynne is pulling into my driveway.
“Home sweet home,” she sings while shifting her car in park.
Confused, I shift around in my seat. “Did I fall asleep?”
Dilynne snorts. “Uh, yeah. I barely got you to my car before you passed out. It was all the adrenaline wearing off. Happens to the best of us.”
I eye her over my shoulder. “Speaking from experience?”
She nods. “Yup. Trust me, smashing a car to bits after a breakup should be a prescription doctors and therapists write.”
I stare out the front windshield, struggling with what to say. This isn’t how Dilynne and I operate—having a relatively normal conversation, without the usual insults. But today? Today, the last person I would have expected showed up for me and actually made me feel a little better.
“Thank you,” I mumble, just loud enough for her to hear.
She gives me a curt nod but doesn’t meet my eyes. “My pleasure.”
A beat passes.
“Can we go back to hating each other now?”
She smirks, but again, doesn’t meet my gaze. “Absolutely.”
“Good.”
With that, I open the car door and step out, heading for my house. I can feel Dilynne’s eyes on me as I do, but when I glance back, she’s already backing out onto the street and pulling away.
It’s probably best we both pretend today didn’t happen. Dilynne Clark is a pain in my ass. My arch-nemesis. And it’s better to keep it that way—because the last thing I need is anything else to analyze when my head is this much of a mess.
But when I go inside, I spot a box from Bites & Bliss Bakery on my kitchen counter. I untie the ribbon around the box and pop the lid open, and a laugh escapes me before I can even stop it.
There’s a cheesecake inside and scrawled across the top in black and red frosting are the words: Take another shower, you stink.
“Fucking Dilynne,” I mutter to myself as I grab a fork and eat half of the best cheesecake in existence, which honestly makes me feel even better than beating the shit out of that car.
***
One Month Later
“Easy does it, Grumpzilla.”
“Godzilla didn’t get left at the altar by his fiancée,” I say, followed by a hiccup.
“Thank you for that information. I wasn’t aware of that fact.”
I nod as Dilynne leads me up the walkway to my house—at least, I think it’s my house. My eyes are seeing double right now, so I can’t be entirely sure. In fact, I’m not even sure that I should trust this woman to actually drop me off at my house.
The alcohol said it was a good idea, but now I’m acutely aware that she might be leading me to some cabin in the woods, and my body might never be found.
Oh well. At least I’m drunk enough not to feel anything that she does to me.
“Did you know that you’re talking out loud?” Dilynne unlocks the door to the house. When I step inside, I run directly to my couch and faceplant into the cushions.
“Couch,” I drag out, muttering against the cushions beneath my face. Pressing a kiss to the fabric beneath me, I turn my face to find Dilynne staring down at me, shaking her head.
“Having a love affair with your couch now?”
“Yes. This couch has never let me down, unlike some people.”
“No need to be evasive, Elliot. I think we both know who you’re talking about.” She moves down to my feet, untying my shoes and setting them by the door where I usually take them off. “I’m gonna get you some water and aspirin.”
“That sounds horrible. You should get me a beer instead.”
“I think you’ve had enough beer for the night,” she replies as she heads toward my kitchen.
“If you’re not going to get me a beer, then why the fuck are you here, Dilynne? I don’t need your help…”
And that’s the last thing I remember before the entire world turns black.
The next thing I know, piercing light shocks me from my sleep. When I pop one eye open, I see Dilynne sitting in the chair opposite the couch, scrolling on her phone. “Dilynne?”
“Good. You’re alive,” she says before standing and walking over to me.
I let out a groan as the pounding in my head begins. “What the hell are you doing here?” Reaching up, I pinch the bridge of my nose as the splitting headache grows exponentially.
“Yeah, you passed out before I could give you some aspirin to take the edge off. Sadly, I don’t think it would have helped with the amount of alcohol you consumed.”
“Good thing my drinking isn’t your problem, huh?”
“You’re right. But you became a problem last night and I’m the one who volunteered to deal with your grumpy ass. Lucky me,” she mutters.
I glare up at her. “What happened?”
Her brows lift. “You don’t remember?”
“No…”
“You got wasted at Fletcher’s going away party and volunteered to do a dirty dance for him. Your shirt was halfway off before Rhonan stepped in.”
Groaning, I roll over and cover my face with my hand. “Jesus.”
“Yup. Definitely wasn’t your finest moment.”
“Is Fletcher…”
“Pissed?” she finishes for me. “Not as much as concerned.”
“Fuck. I just couldn’t stand watching everyone be happy,” I say, surprising even myself with my honesty.
Luckily, Dilynne just nods. “Yup. Been there.”
I peer up at her. “Really? When?”
She darts her gaze from me and clears her throat. “Doesn’t matter. Look, you should probably hop your sorry ass in the shower. I can smell the alcohol coming out of your pores, and there’s a pizza warming in the oven. Greasy food always helps with the hangover.”
“Why don’t you leave me the fuck alone, Dilynne?” My words are harsh, but the last thing I want to deal with right now is this woman in my house when I feel like shit. “I don’t need your help today, and I sure as fuck didn’t need it the day you took me to the junkyard, all right?”
“So you’ve told me.” Moving away from me, she grabs her keys from the coffee table and heads toward the front door. “Take something now and drink lots of water, and maybe lay off the booze for a while, all right?”
I don’t get a chance to respond because in the next breath, she’s gone. And as I sit up on the couch and finally feel gravity again, so does my stomach, making me race to the bathroom to deal with the consequences of my actions in more ways than one.