“Oh.” She recovers quickly, but she can’t hide how she flinches. “That’s okay. What about Wednesday? I’m off early, we could—”
“Wednesday’s no good either.”
Now the confusion is turning into something else. Her smile fades as she searches my face, and sadness fills her eyes.
“Okay.” Her voice is smaller. Careful. “Then when—”
“I’ll call you.”
The words are cold and hollow. I see the exact moment she understands that I won’t. That this is me pulling away and slamming the door in her face.
Her spine straightens. The vulnerability in her expression shutters closed.
“Right.” She steps back, creating distance I didn’t ask for but caused anyway. “You’ll call me.”
“Daisy—”
“No, it’s fine.” She grabs her purse and heads to the counter, putting it down in front of Liam. “You’re busy. I get it.”
Liam glances from Daisy to me, but rings her up without a word.
She thinks she did something wrong, and I can see that thought taking root, and I should rip it out, should tell her this is me, this is my damage, tell her that she’s done nothing wrong.
But the words won’t come. The fear is a fist around my throat, choking anything I might say.
At the door, she pauses and turns back to look at me, her eyes filled with sadness. She opens her mouth to say something, pauses, and then turns and walks out the door.
And that hurts more than if she’d yelled at me.
I stand frozen at my station, and hate myself more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life.
Joe’s Bar is loud,dark, and full of people I don’t want to talk to.
I’m three whiskeys deep, watching Zane work the room like it’s his personal hunting ground. He’s got a redhead laughing at something he said, her hand on his arm, and it’s obvious he’ll be fucking her tonight.
This is what I know. What I’ve always known. Easy nights with easier endings. No one gets too close. No one leaves because no one was ever really there.
“You’re fucking depressing to look at.” Zane drops onto the stool beside me, watching the redhead sashay across the bar. “What happened with the tattoo girl?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” He signals the bartender for another round. “You look like someone shit in your cereal. What’d you do?”
I stare at the amber liquid in my glass. “Pushed her away.”
“Why?”
Because I’m terrified. Because she looked at me like I wasn’t too much, and my emotions were too much for me to handle. Because every person who was supposed to care for me eventually abandoned me, and I don’t know if I could live if Daisy did that.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say instead.
Zane shrugs. “Man, this is why I don’t do relationships. Too much drama.” He claps me on the shoulder. “What you need is to get your dick wet. Clear your head. There’s a blonde at the end of the bar who’s been trying to get your attention for twenty minutes.”
I don’t want to look. Coming out with Zane was a mistake. His dick is a pussy-seeking missile, and he thinks a good fuck solves all life’s problems.
“Come on.” He nudges me. “One night, no strings. You’ll feel better.”
I won’t. I know it with a certainty that settles like lead in my stomach. But I don’t tell Zane that. For now, I’m just grateful to be somewhere that doesn’t have canvases stacked against every wall, paintings of cats with wide eyes watching me like they’re judging me, too.
