Page 149 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

“I’ll get your drink, Willa,” Wayne offered. “How about a Bud Light?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Coming up.” Jackson whipped a pint glass from beneath the bar and took it to the tap.

“It’s still weird to me that you’re old enough to drink.” Wayne chuckled. “I remember you coming into the school every summer when you were just a little thing, helping your daddy get his classroom all ready for the school year.”

I faked a smile for Wayne as Jackson set down my beer.

He turned and grabbed a bottle of aspirin from behind the cash register, opening the cap and popping a couple of pills into his mouth.

“Not feeling good?” Ronny asked.

&n

bsp; Jackson shook his head. “I haven’t had a bitch of a hangover like this in years. The damn thing has lasted all day. Remind me never to do tequila shots, then smoke a joint with the tourists again. I’m a fucking dumbass.”

Ronny and Wayne both laughed.

I did not.

Tequila and weed. That was the taste I couldn’t pinpoint last night. That was the reason for the haze in his eyes. He’d been drunk and high during my first kiss.

“Did you stay out late?” Ronny asked Jackson.

He shrugged. “Not really. I closed up around midnight after the tourists left the bar. Walked home and passed out.”

I stared at his profile, waiting for his eyes to at least flicker my way. He was forgetting a stop on his stroll home. Was that intentional? Did he not want Wayne and Ronny to know he’d even talked to me? Or had he forgotten me completely in his inebriated state?

“You just went home and fell asleep?” I asked.

He glanced over. “Pretty much. Had some crazy dreams though.”

I narrowed my gaze, assessing his expression. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t pretending. He wasn’t omitting pieces of his story.

He really had forgotten.

He’d forgotten the best night of my life. The best first kiss in the history of first kisses.

He’d forgotten me.

The pain nearly knocked me off my stool. Jackson continued to chat with Wayne and Ronny while I stared unblinking at my beer glass. The bubbles collected on the rim, then burst.

Like my heart.

Enough, Willa. Enough.

My friends had told me for years to move on, to forget my schoolgirl crush on Jackson and go after a man who actually knew I existed.

But I’d nurtured and coddled the fantasy for nine years.

I’d finally had enough. This was the kick in the rear I’d needed to let him go. In a way, I was glad this had all happened.

Yep, glad. Super glad.

G-L-A-D, glad.

He was just a silly dream.