Chapter 22
“It’s too damn loud in here,” I shout to my brother over the music and voices.
“You’re the one who dragged me here after a long day at work,” Ryan says, leaning in to be heard. “I swear, the closer it gets to the holidays, the more feral those kids become.”
He came here straight from the D&D club he sponsors at school, still in his khakis and button-down. He even wore his name badge on a lanyard until I pointed it out and he stuffed it in his pocket.
Meanwhile, I’m sure I look like shit. My facial hair has grown to a messy scruff.
I’ve hardly slept. The shirt and jeans I’m wearing are the same ones from yesterday.
Even the kids at the foundation have noticed something’s off.
Earlier today, I lost my patience and snapped at a kid, and later Rhonda found me half asleep in her office.
She told me to cut out early, looking equal parts worried and fed up.
Which is how I landed myself here at the bar.
I signal to a waitress, and she heads our way.
“Another round, boys?” She places a hand on my shoulder and winks.
I resist the urge to shrug her off.
“Two shots of whiskey. The best you’ve got.” This will be my third round, because apparently I hate my liver. I know I’m drinking too much too fast, but still it’s done nothing to quiet the noise in my head.
“One shot for me, and that’s it, Liam. I’m not up for a hangover tomorrow.”
All I can muster is a grunt of acknowledgement.
Within minutes, our shots arrive and we throw them back in unison, the burn familiar and almost comforting at this point.
“How long do you plan on doing this?”
“Doing what?”
Ryan rolls his eyes and scoffs. He and I both know what he’s really asking. He’s been at me for days, trying to get me to talk.
“Ryan, you have no idea what it’s like living inside my head.”
“And nobody ever will unless you talk about it.” His voice rises in frustration. “Instead, you roll into town on a mission to self-destruct, and that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. Did you even come home last night?”
The answer is no. And the admission sits heavy in my gut like a stone.
I woke up this morning in a strange hotel room, blonde curls fanning out on the pillow next to me.
I think her name started with a K. Katie?
Kayla? I know we had sex, though the details are hazy.
What I do remember is checking for traces of lipstick.
Any signs of a kiss, hickeys. I found none. But fuck.
The not remembering made me feel like an even bigger asshole.
I slipped out before she woke up. Sure as hell didn’t leave my number and didn’t ask for hers.
I should know by now this doesn’t work. Waking up with women I don’t know always leaves me with a hollowed out feeling and hating myself a little more each time.
“I came home,” I lie.
“Bullshit. Your bed was empty this morning.”
I look away, unable to meet his eyes. His disappointment sits like a third fucking person at our table. It’s whatever.
Ryan drags a hand down his face. “Christ, Liam. You need water,” he says and stands.
“I don’t need—”
“You need water,” Ryan repeats, and heads to the bar, returning with two glasses of ice water. “Drink,” he commands, sliding a glass my way.
Sighing, I bring it to my lips and take a long swig.
“Talk to me. What happened? Last we talked, you were actually good.” He looks at me, searching for something he won’t find. “Now look at you. Drinking like you have a death wish. Sleeping with the first pretty face that comes along.”
“This is who I am, Ryan.” I fling both arms wide. “This is what I do.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“Don’t I?” I take another drink of water, my head still spinning from that last shot. “Cassie’s seeing someone,” I say flatly. “This week is the anniversary of—well, you know. And Cassie’s seeing someone who isn’t fucked in the head.”
Ryan blinks and nods. “I see.”
“His name is Sam. He’s fucking perfect. She’s perfect. I’m sure they’ll have a perfect wedding, two perfect kids, and adopt a perfect dog.”
“You’re an idiot,” he says with a rueful laugh. “You found someone who made you happy. Got you out of your head. And instead of fighting for that, you’re here, haunted by the ghost of Julie, getting shit-faced.”
Julie’s name lands like a sucker punch. Why is it so easy for everyone else to say her name, while I still can’t?
My hands squeeze into fists so tight I feel my nails cutting into my palms. Goddammit I should be better by now.
Two fucking years, and each year, the anniversary of it rolls back around, it’s like a bomb goes off…
and I’m right back where I was after it happened.
“Don’t bring her into this.”
“What the hell, Liam? She’s the whole reason for this, and you damn well know it.
If you can’t be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself.
Your bed has been empty for three nights straight and you can hardly hold your head up right now.
” He leans forward. “This is what you’ve done both years, and each time it only gets worse. When does it end?”
“I’m fine—”
“You’re not. And now you’re letting the first good thing that’s happened to you in a while slip through your fingers.”
But Ryan is wrong. Dead wrong. As much as I hate it, I’m doing Cassie a favor. And I don’t have it in me to love anyone. I can’t.
I rake a hand through my hair. “I can’t do this. I’m going to take a piss.”
Standing so suddenly my chair almost topples backward, I take unsteady steps to the bathroom, flinging open the door. Two men jump, surprised, and then my eyes land on the countertop.
Thin lines of white powder and a rolled-up dollar bill lying next to them.
“Want a bump?” one of them offers, gesturing to the counter.
I’ve smoked weed since I was fifteen. It’s always helped slow my racing mind. But never have I touched the hard stuff. Not even pills.
“Nah, man. I’m good.”
Heading past them to the urinal, I do my business and leave them to it. When I reach our table, it’s empty, but then I spot Ryan at the bar. A few minutes later he’s back, tapping on his phone.
“I ordered an Uber. It’s time to head home. Come on.”
Bracing on the stool to steady myself, I take a breath and head to close my tab. But just before I reach the bar a woman turns, two beers in hand and runs smack dab into me, sticky beer spilling down both our shirts and onto the floor.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” She reaches out to steady herself and that’s when it registers who it is. Recognition dawns on her face at the same time, her jaw falling slack.
The same blonde curls from last night. The same blue eyes. And everything about them is wrong. The only eyes I want are honey gold with little flecks of green.
“Liam.”
Shit. And I can’t even remember her name. I stare at her blankly, not a single recollection where she might have introduced herself to me. It’s all a fog.
“Unbelievable. You don’t remember me, do you?”
I need a minute. Holding up a finger, I hurry to grab a handful of napkins, hand her a few for her shirt, and begin cleaning the mess from the floor.
“I do remember you.” I don’t add that her name is another story. “So…about this morning.”
We’re both standing now, her arms crossed against her beer-soaked shirt.
“You mean, you up and leaving without so much as a note?” Her voice is sharp with accusation. “I know it was just one night, but I’m a human being who deserves some kind of consideration.”
And she’s right. I know it and she knows it.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I blow out a breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m a mess right now. But you didn’t deserve that.”
The fire in her eyes softens and she uncrosses her arms, reaching to squeeze my arm.
Now she’s looking at me with such open want, I should feel something, but I’ve got nothing.
Not a damn thing to give her. “I’d be willing to give you a do-over.
” There’s a hopeful note in her voice, but before I can decline, a hand clamps down on my arm.
“Liam was just leaving,” my brother’s voice sounds beside me. He’s looking at the woman with an apologetic smile.
The woman drops her hand and takes a step back. “Right, of course. Um, well, bye, I guess.”
Ryan begins to pull me toward the door, but then I remember the spilled beers.
“Wait, man.” I pull a couple twenties from my wallet, and head back to the woman who now stands at the bar.
When I reach her, she turns, surprised to see me beside her.
“Here.” I take her hand and place the money into her open palm.
“For the beers. It’s my fault you spilled them.
I wasn’t watching where I was going.” It’s not the whole truth, but maybe I’ll look like less of an ass.
It’s the least I can do. “Have a fun night and be safe.”
I meet my brother back at the door and we step outside into the crowd of the city.
It’s a sharp contrast from the bar, and I realize just how drunk I still am.
The world seems to tilt sideways and I grab hold of Ryan’s shoulder.
Among my many, many faults, getting arrested for public intoxication isn’t one of them.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I will my vision to clear.
“Easy, man. Our Uber is almost here.”
A minute later a silver Toyota pulls up to the curb, and Ryan and I slide into the backseat.
While Ryan makes small talk with the driver, I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the Nashville lights blur past. I’m tired as fuck.
And not just hungover tired. Soul tired.
All I want to do is get to bed and pass out.
My mind goes to that moment in the bathroom, when those guys offered me a hit. If I’m being honest, I considered it for half a beat. Just to feel something other than this never-ending pain that nothing seems to stem. The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
“Ryan?” I mumble.
“Yeah?”
“Something’s gotta give.” Lifting my head, I meet his eyes that are laced with concern. “I can’t live like this.”
Ryan nods slowly, eyes searching mine. “And how do you plan on doing that?”
I drop my head back to the glass and my eyes sink closed.
No immediate solution comes to mind and the truth is, I have no idea how to move on.
But I know I want to. How does a person let go of a ghost they’ve been holding onto for two years?
How do I stop punishing myself for surviving when Julie didn’t?
And how do I allow myself to love Cassie with my whole heart, rather than pieces and shards of one?
“Have you given therapy any more thought?” Ryan asks, dragging me from my thoughts. “You can listen to me or not, but I’ve told you time and time again, there are some things you can’t fix alone.”
The car rolls to a stop and Ryan opens his door. We must be at his house. Raising up, I rest my head against the headrest.
Ryan pauses, half out of the car. “You coming?”
I follow him up the front walk, feeling more steady on my feet. As Ryan unlocks the door and lets us in, I know what I have to do.
“I think I need to head home tomorrow.”
He doesn’t say anything at first, just slides off his shoes and drops his keys into a bowl.
“Yeah, I think you do.”