"Can't blame her."
"I don't."
Silence settles between us.The cigarette's burning down to the filter.I drop it, crush it under my boot.
"You gonna see her again?"Rush asks.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because she doesn't want to see me.And she's right not to."
"That's shite reasoning."
I look at him."She told me to get out, Rush.What am I supposed to do?Show up and make it worse?"
"I don't know.But giving up because you fucked up once seems like the coward's way out."
The words hit harder than they should.I'm not a coward.Never have been.But this?—
This is different.
This is emotional territory I don't know how to navigate.Give me a fight, give me something physical, and I'm fine.But this vulnerable, apologizing, making-amends shite?I'm lost.
"She's better off without me," I say quietly.
"Maybe.But shouldn't that be her choice?"
Before I can respond, he pushes off the wall and heads back inside, leaving me alone with my thoughts again.
Better off without me.
It's true.I know it's true.Enya deserves someone whole, someone who won't bring ghosts to her bed.Someone who can give her more than I can.
But the thought of her with someone else—laughing, touching, being happy—makes me want to break things.
Which is selfish.
Which is exactly why I need to stay away.
* * *
The rest of the day drags.I work on my bike.It doesn't need it, but I need something to do with my hands.So I strip parts, clean them, and put them back together.Mindless.Mechanical.The kind of task that usually quiets my brain.
Not today.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her.The way she moved behind the bar.The sharpness of her tongue.The vulnerability underneath that armor.
The way she looked at me before I ruined it.
Cowboy wanders over eventually, toolbox in hand."Need help?"
"I'm good."
"You look like shite."
"Thanks."
