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The door closes despite my feeble attempt to keep it open and I’m left alone on the front porch of my brother’s house in the middle of a strange city with what little hope I’d been clinging to sliding from my grasp.
I’m so screwed.
A soft moan vibrates through the front door. It’s quickly followed by a loud thud that causes the gold knocker attached to it to rattle.
And apparently, I’m not the only one who’s getting screwed.
Dropping my head toward the sky, I count to ten then turn on my heel toward my car that’s parked in the driveway.
SeaBird, here I come.
***
The place smells like the beach, complete with coconut, rum, and a hint of salt. The combination is almost enough to ease the ache in my chest with memories of happier times before my phone buzzes with a text.
Ian: Babe. Come home.
My grip tightens around the screen before I type my response.
Me: We’re done Ian.
I don’t know why I’m even bothering to reply, it’ll only encourage him to keep sending bullshit apologies.
Oh, wait. That wasn’t an apology. It was him being his usual controlling self. How could I forget?
With a huff, I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, march toward the bar, then find an open seat.
“Hey. What can I get ya?” a voice yells over the live band playing a cover song in the corner. Finding the voice’s owner, I’m met with a tattooed Adonis. His arms are etched with ink, stretched on both sides of him as he leans a little closer to hear my order, but I’m too speechless to come up with anything.
Again.
Dude. What is in the water here? And do they bottle it? Because I’m pretty sure I could make a fortune by selling it on the black market.
His straight white teeth dig into his lower lip in an attempt to keep a teasing smile at bay as he catches me checking him out, but it’s pointless. The damn thing still makes an appearance as he prods, “You look like you’ve had a long day. Are you a whiskey girl?”
“I’m an any-kind-of-alcohol girl when I’ve had a day like today.”
Rapping his knuckles across the polished counter, he replies, “Well, then. First one’s on me.” Then, he steps away to grab my drink. And boy, do I need it.
What the hell was I thinking? Did I really just throw away my whole life, my future, today? Breaking up with Ian is one thing, but he was practically my boss. Now I’m homeless, I don’t have a job, or a future career for that matter. Hell, I didn’t even grab clothes for tomorrow.
I’m an idiot.
An idiot who stayed with the wrong guy for way too long all because I was afraid to leave him.
But I deserve more than a shitty boyfriend/boss who cheated on me. Don’t I?
Where the hell is Milo?
I swivel around on the soft brown barstool and begin my search, but the place is packed for a random Thursday night. Bodies are grinding against each other in perfect rhythm with the base as I hunt for my brother in the crowd.
Milo, where are you? I want to yell, but I don’t waste my breath.
“Looking for someone?” the bartender calls as the small shot glass clinks against the dark, lacquered counter in front of me.
I nod before picking it up and swallowing the amber liquid in one gulp. The burn is a welcome distraction from the buzzing in my back pocket. Annoyed, I dig it out of my pocket and slap it facedown against the counter when I find Ian’s name flashing across the screen.
Leave me alone, asshole.
