Before I walk away, he calls out to me in a hoarse voice. “You’ll never have her. Who would want to look at someone like you, let alone love you?”
His words hurt, but I keep pushing, shaking off the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I step back into the main room, and the hallway light fades behind me as the noise of the bar swallows me whole again—laughter, clinking bottles, the radio kicking into the last chorus ofSiren Sounds by Tate McRae.
My chest is still heaving, adrenaline burning through me.
I flex my hands once, twice, trying to shake the feeling of Brian’s throat under my forearm.
I don’t go straight back to the bar, I can’t.
If I see her sitting at that bar with those sad blue eyes and that brave little smile she tries to wear when she’s hurting, I’m done for.
I’ll crumble.
I can’t fucking look at the only woman who’s ever made me feel alive, not when every part of my soul is still reaching for her.
Moving to the far end instead, near the stack of clean pint glasses and the ice well, where the crowd thins and the pendant lights don’t shine quite so brightly.
From here, I can see the whole room.
I watch, and my gaze lands on her.
Alwaysher.
She remains in the same spot I left her, her hands resting on the bar top with her shoulders hunched as her eyes are fixed on the hallway.
Brian appears a few seconds later.
He’s walking slower than before, no swagger, no smirk, his hand resting at his throat, rubbing absently where my arm pressed.
His face is already smoothing back into something neutral, something practiced.
He walks straight to her, and I wait for him to snap.
The yank, the possessive clamp on her arm again. It doesn’t come.
He stops beside her, leaning down close enough that his mouth brushes her ear, whispering.
Whatever he says is inaudible from where I’m at, but I see her flinch, small and almost invisible, the plain eye wouldn’t notice, then she nods once.
His hand settles on the small of her back in this sickly gentleness.
The way you touch someone when you’re trying to prove you’re not the monster everyone believes you are.
My stomach turns over as I watch the light of my life leave with him.
She lets him guide her toward the door. Her steps are small and hesitant, but she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t fight.
Once they reach the exit, he pushes the door open with his shoulder, holding it for her like any decent man would.
She steps through first, but hesitates.
Right before the door swings shut behind them, she turns, just a fraction.
Just enough that her eyes find mine across the crowded bar.
Our gazes lock, and I wince at the contact and the pure longing in her eyes.
