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I shook my head but didn’t look at him. I twisted my fingers around themselves on the counter top and stared at nothing.
My throat was dry. I swallowed over and over again, but it didn’t help. Everything inside of me came crashing down over my body, sending a shudder through every muscle. I squeezed my eyes shut, but that didn’t help what was going on inside my head. I opened my eyes to find myself staring at the row of bottles on the shelf.
I can’t deal with this.
The couple who had been sitting to my left got up and wrapped their arms around each other as they sauntered out. The guy at the end ordered another scotch. When the bartender came back to my side of the bar, he wiped down the counter and grabbed a tip that had been left nearby. He stopped in front of me and again asked if there was anything I wanted.
“Vodka,” I heard myself say. “A…a shot of vodka.”
“Sure thing,” the bartender responded, obviously surprised. I couldn’t blame him for that, though—I’d been coming in here for months without ordering anything.
I motioned with one hand up to the top shelf of the bar.
“The good stuff,” I said quietly.
“You got it.”
He placed the shot glass in front of me, and the clear liquid sloshed slightly for a moment before settling. I ran my finger around the edge of the glass before wrapping my hand around it.
Another tournament.
A fight to the death.
Winning meant protecting Raine and being united with my son.
I have a son.
Fuck me.
I gripped the little glass. It was quite a bit bigger than a single ounce shot and filled nearly to the top. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I tried another deep breath, but it came out in a shuddering gasp.
It will calm me down, I told myself.
Raine’s voice rose above all the other turmoil in my brain.
“I can’t be with that man, Bastian.”
She wouldn’t like this. Understatement of the fucking century. I started to release the glass, but I didn’t quite manage to get my fingers off of it. The tips remained as if they were glued there.
She doesn’t have to know…just one.
My vision blurred. I couldn’t swallow anymore—my throat was too dry.
“You aren’t that person anymore, Bastian.” Raine's voice echoed through my head again.
“I’m not so sure about that, baby,” I whispered to myself. “I might have to be him again—just for a little while.”
I focused on the glass again, steeling myself against the desire to bring it to my lips. The muscles up my arm flexed automatically, and I tightened my fingers around the glass again.
It felt good.
Natural.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I lifted my hand and brought the glass up closer to my face. Tilting it back and draining it seemed like the easiest thing in the world to do, while setting it back down was impossible.
If I do this, it’s done. I can’t go back.
It’s only one drink…it’s not like I’d be instantly back to the same old me again.
