FOOLISH PRIDE
Travis Tritt
1994
1
ELLIE
The loudest quietever is the shattering of a heart being broken.
I couldn’t remember where I had heard that phrase before and I could be misquoting it, but it was so true. I nodded my thanks to JR as I picked up my martini and drank back half the glass, doing my best not to stare at Liam and his wife, my former friend, Bailey.
I should never have gone along with his stupid plan. Yes, it helped him, but it broke my heart and cost me a friend in the process. The guilt of it all was overwhelming, and people around town still thought I had slept with Liam.
How little they knew.
Those few kisses in the bar meant more to me than anyone would ever know, but to him, I was nothing more than a means to an end. He felt nothing when his lips were on mine. Those hands that roamed over my body so easily felt like they were memorizing a path for the future.
Sadly, they didn’t care at all.
Every grope, every caress was nothing more than a man doing everything possible to save the woman he loved.
News flash, I was not that woman.
I never would be. Not for any man, and not because I wasn’t pretty or was boring. But because there was something defective about me, every man within a hundred-mile radius could sense it.
I tossed back the rest of my drink, nearly spilling it when Josie bumped into me as she sat on the stool next to me. She was one of my only friends who hadn’t abandoned me when the whole town turned on me and called me a whore. Maybe it was in her nature—after all, she did run the apothecary shop in town. Or maybe she was just the type of friend who stood by you through thick and thin.
“Okay, you can’t drink like that. Then JR will have to drive you home, and trust me, he’s not the happiest person when dealing with drunk people.”
“I’m not drunk,” I argued. “I’m pleasantly tipsy.”
“Tipsy or not, I’m cutting you off.”
I gasped at her, “You’re not serious.”
“Oh, I am so serious. Girl, there is no way I can ask JR to haul you out of here. Besides, my brother is at it again. I can’t worry about two of you.”
I spun on my stool and stared at the darkest corner of The Beaver and Boot, sighing heavily when I saw my good friend drowning his sorrows in a bottle of brandy.
“Who was it this time?”
“Marissa.”
“From town?” I thought hard for a face to go with the name, but nothing came up.
“Nah, she’s off this dating site he’s trying.”
“Given up on just the natural meet and greet, huh?”
“I think he’s gone through all the women in town who would possibly date him.”
Sighing, I shook my head. “He’s such a good guy. I don’t get why women don’t like him.”
She nudged me playfully. “You know, you might?—”
“Don’t even go there. I’ve been around his moping one too many times. There’s no way I could date the man after I’ve held his hand while he cried. Besides, he needs someone like him.”
