Page 46 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

The Separation

Cross POV

This is what hell must feel like.

Cross’s inner thoughts were like a constant form of torture lately that just wouldn’t let him go. It didn’t seem to matter what he was doing, or where he was, his mind and tar-black heart managed to somehow drag him even lower.

Emotionally, that was.

So was his life now.

The filled-to-capacity Chicago nightclub was supposed to be the hottest place in the city. At least, that’s what everybody said when Cross asked. It certainly had enough people partying inside to say it was popular.

A good place to escape.

Somewhere life couldn’t touch them.

Just what Cross thought he needed.

Yet, there he sat in a back booth, a full glass of whiskey untouched in front of him, and entirely stuck inside his own head and heart. Not even the conversation between his two friends could drive him out of his thoughts enough to engage them. The great music and beautiful, dancing women with dresses short enough to show off peeks of their ass cheeks did nothing for him, either.

Six months in Chicago—six months without Catherine—and one might think Cross would have finally left New York, and her, behind.

Life was not so simple.

His heart was also a fickle bitch.

“Yo, Cross.”

He blinked out of his depressing thoughts, and looked at his friend. Zeke sat beside him in the booth, while Tommaso sat alone on the other side. Both guys looked at him like he had grown a second head or something.

“What?” Cross asked.

“Man, you’re out of it tonight, huh?” Zeke asked.

“He’s like this a lot, really,” Tommaso said.

Cross gave the youngest of the three a look of warning. “I don’t remember anyone asking you, Tom.”

“Still said it.”

“Be careful, Tom,” Cross said, smirking, “or I might let one of the bouncers know your ID is a fake.”

“Mob-owned joint,” Tommaso countered. “Not worried about it.”

Cross figured.

He turned to Zeke instead, saying, “It’s just been a long day, man.”

“Sure,” Zeke replied.

Zeke didn’t sound like he really believed it, though. Honestly, Cross hadn’t been making much of an effort to hide his shitty moods, either. His troubles were on his sleeve for everybody to see, lately.

“It’s your first night in the city,” Cross told Zeke, “so don’t be worrying about me, man.”

Zeke scoffed. “First, how can I even look out for you if you won’t talk to me about shit, huh? As for the second thing—I’ve got a couple of weeks to bug the shit out of you if you want to do this the hard way, Cross. Better to get it over with now.”

Cross chuckled. “You’re a fucker.”