"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because chasing her would've made it worse."I pour coffee into two mugs and slide one toward him."She's scared.And I can't fix that by pushing."
Cowboy nods slowly."So what are you gonna do?"
"Give her space.Give her time."I take a sip, burning my tongue."Show her I'm not going anywhere."
"How?"
"I don't know yet."
We stand there in silence, drinking coffee that's too hot and too bitter, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
"For what it's worth," Cowboy says eventually, "I think you're doing the right thing in giving her space.Not everyone would."
"Yeah, well," I set my mug down, "not everyone fucked it up as badly as I did."
"You apologized.You made it right.What happened last night, that was her choice too, Tank.She came to your room.She stayed.You didn't force anything."
"I know."But it doesn't make me feel better.Doesn't ease the knot in my chest or the sick feeling in my stomach."But it doesn't change the fact that she left looking like she regretted every second of it."
Cowboy doesn't have an answer for that.Neither do I.
I finish my coffee, rinse the mug, and head back to my room.I need a shower.Need to wash the night off me and try to figure out what the fuck I'm supposed to do now.
But even under scalding water, I can't stop thinking about her.The way she looked at me.The way she said my name.The way her body felt pressed against mine.
The way she walked out without looking back.
By midday, I can't take it anymore.
The sitting.The waiting.The not knowing if she's okay or if she's spiraling or if she hates me or if she's just scared.
I need to see her.I need to know she's alright.
Not to talk.Not to push.Just to see.
I grab my keys and swing by Cowboy's room.He's on the couch with Saoirse, reading her some book about dinosaurs.He looks up when I knock.
"Heading out?"he asks.
"Yeah.Won't be long."
He studies me for a second, then nods."Be careful."
I don't ask what he means.I just leave.
The ride into the city clears my head slightly.Wind in my face, engine rumbling beneath me, the familiar rhythm of the road.By the time I pull up outside O’Hara's, I've got my head on straighter.
I'm not here to confront her.Not here to demand explanations.
I'm here because I need to see her, to make sure she's okay.And maybe...maybe if she sees me being calm, being respectful, giving her space, she'll start to believe I'm not a threat.
The pub's moderately busy.Lunch crowd, mostly.I slip inside and take a seat at the far end of the bar, where I can see the whole room but stay out of the way.
And there she is.
