This is it.
The air between us crackles with tension, unsaid words, and a universe of regret. I’m tempted to beg him to stay, throw caution to the wind, and hold onto him with everything I have, but I know that’s not fair to either of us.
The finality hits me like a punch to the gut. This isn’t how it was supposed to end. I hoped it would never end, but life has a way of shattering expectations.
“Take care of yourself, baby,” he says, running his knuckles down my cheek.
And then he’s climbing into the limo and the driver closes the door behind him. I stand there, staring at the black, tinted windows as the car pulls away, everything inside me cracking and breaking, screaming and crying.
It’s not until my dad grabs my shoulders, spins me around, and hides me in his arms that I realize I’m not just crying inside.
THIRTY
Colt
Cody: Where the hell are you?!
Countless similar messages like that have flooded the chat throughout the week while I’ve avoided contact with everyone, throwing myself into the whirlwind of work.
I sent a message to the group chat once I landed in LA on Sunday to get them off my back. Not that it worked particularly well, given the countless messages and missed calls.
Me: Back home. Don’t want to see anyone. I’ll call soon.
But I haven’t all week.
I’ve let my phone ring out whenever any of my brothers try calling, and I’ve kept clear of my house until it’s late enough that I know they won’t come knocking. I need time alone. Time to organize my head and marshal the overpowering disappointment and hurt prickling my skin.
Every day, I rise bright and early, having slept an hour or so, uncomfortable without Addie by my side. I’ve slept alone for twenty-seven years, but a week of her cuddling into me has rewired my brain and now I can’t fucking sleep without her.
I’ve bought two more clubs, gone daily to every spot Nico and I own, then just either sat on the beach or driven aimlessly around the OC so I don’t have to sit home alone.
I wish I could say I’m climbing out of the ditch. That life’s getting better, brighter again, but the cold, harsh truth is I’m as bad today, five torturous days later, as I was on Sunday when I kissed Addie goodbye.
Another text comes through, the loudpingechoing in the still living room.
Cody: What the fuck am I supposed to do with this pen?! It got delivered today. You want it?
Ah, the pen... I forgot all about it. While Conor was running around like a headless chicken on Saturday, dealing with the gas failure in Pomona, I texted back and forth with Cody.
Get someone to make an outdoor pen for a big bird. I want to surprise Addie and get Jasper back for her next week.
She loves that bird, she spoke about him all the time, telling me stories while she was falling asleep, and I knew getting him back would make her happy.
A loudbang!on my front door startles me out of my trance. The only reason I’m home at eight on a Friday evening is that Curly rang earlier to say the meet-up had moved from tomorrow to tonight. Instead of aimlessly driving around town, I’ve risked coming home to get my car ready.
Looks like that’s not happening because anotherbang!resounds through the house, and then, “Open the fucking door, or we’ll break it down! I know you’re there! I heard your phone ping!”
Logan.
And that means they’re all here.
Fuck my life. I don’t need this. I don’t need to relive what happened; I don’t need to relay the story and feel my heart get shredded again. I don’t need their back pats or wise words, but I know I’m not getting away with it.
Running a hand down my face, I get up from the couch, butt the cigarette out, and head across the room.
As predicted, all six of them stand at my door, alcohol in hands, matching scowls on their faces.
“Look who’s alive, breathing, and capable of answering his phone,” Logan clips, shouldering past me. “You’ve got a shit-ton of explaining to do, bro. You don’t get to ghost us.”
