I merge into the crowd of bar-goers and make my escape out the front door, my phone plastered to my ear as I call Kennedy.
Fresh air barely calms me down.
It feels like someone carved my insides with a knife and now I’m bleeding a bloody trail in my wake.
As I breathe laboured and tilt my head skyward, I come to the conclusion that Liam’s actions hurt me beyond words because of my feelings for him.
I guess none of that matters anymore, though.
Because I’m done with Liam.
So fucking done.
Liam
Ihave messed up on a colossal level.
There’s no denying it.
It’s been six days since Mabel ran out of MacGregor after our quarrel.
No wonder she left with a broken-hearted expression. She made herself vulnerable by telling me how badly she’d been wanting to see me and all I gave her was a “I wasn’t ready for you to meet me, Bel.” No other explanation. Just that. What an asshole thing to do.
It’s also been six nights since Mabel started ignoring my text messages.
Never in my life have I felt this low.
The worst part is I deserve to feel this way.
I’ve spent the last few days self-reflecting on the situation and wishing I could have gone about the entire thing differently.
Driving a stake through my chest would have been less painful than seeing the desolate glint in her soft brown eyes as she ran away.
God, Iput that look on her face. I made her sad.I’m not supposed to make her sad. I’msupposed to love and protect her. Always.
It’s Thursday night and I’m working the closing shift with Pia. Well, she’s working and I’m sulking, sitting on a stool by the bar with a non-alcoholic beer bottle cradled in my hands.
I stare at it like it holds the answers to all my questions.
News flash: it does not.
The bar is empty except for us two. Everyone else has gone home. The sound of Pia counting the cash and the low drone of an RnB song ring in the background. But none of them are louder than the self-loathing simmering in my soul.
I pride myself on being a calm man. I’m level-headed and I go out of my way to keep my emotions at bay when I’m working. However, tonight was a huge test of my self-restraint. I broke up three drunken fights between a handful of frat boys and actually had to stop myself from throwing a punch to let out steam.
Everything and everyone is irritating me. I hate this purgatory I’m stuck in, a constant hell filled with nothing but my misery.
Since we first exchanged numbers a year ago, Mabel and I have never gone more than a day or two without texting. I don’t know how to deal with this separation and it’s taking a toll on me.
Even the people around me are beginning to notice it.
Especially Pia, who was quick to point out that my beard has seen better days and the bags under my eyes remind her of a Tim Burton character. Gotta love Pia. She knows how to kick a man when he’s already down.
I take a swig of my beer and drop the bottle down with a louderthunkthan necessary.
Pia rolls her eyes like I’m insufferable to deal with, then advances towards me in her pint-sized glory. “All right, grumpy. I’m sick and tired of seeing you brood. Let’s have at it. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Nothing is bothering me,” I grit out.
