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Sarah was her friend. Wes was his.
And Jess. Who got Jess?
Tears burned the back of Whitney’s eyes as she thought of everything she was losing. Her best friend may not choose sides, but Trent was family, and Whitney was a recently terrible friend who had pushed her away.
Frankie. Dear, wonderful Frankie. She’d never be welcomed into Frankie’s open arms and heart anymore. Her surrogate mother who’d been there for her when her own mom couldn’t be, who loved her… She no longer had her, either.
The effects of a breakup trickled to so many innocent bystanders, and it broke her heart that she was now the cause of so much hurt and sadness. She was responsible for so many people having to adjust to a new reality, a new situation. They’d all be fine without her, sooner or later. But could sheeverbe fine without all of them?
Whitney slammed her laptop shut. Pushing it aside, she reached for a blanket on the edge of the sofa, curled into a ball, and let fresh tears fall.
Chapter Twenty
Now…
All evening, he heard the sounds of patrons outside the bar, tugging on the locked door, knocking, the bar phone ringing with people obviously wondering why the tavern wasn’t open, but he didn’t care.
They were closed, and they were staying closed.
There was no way he could see familiar faces laughing and having a good time that evening. No way he could hear the music blasting or fill drink orders when all he wanted to do was punch someone.
He’d moved on to a new stage of grief—anger. And it was almost a welcome relief. He knew it wouldn’t last, but for now, he was clinging to the strong emotion that at least made it possible not to feel as though an elephant were sitting on his chest.
Behind the bar, he emptied the dishwasher, stacking clean beer glasses along the ledge. Twenty-four hours and not a word from Whitney. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but complete silence wasn’t it. He’d held out hope that she’d come to him or call or even a damn text to say…
What?
What did he expect her to say?
He picked up a beer mug and threw it across the bar, the glass shattering into a million pieces as it hit the pool table. Resting his hands against the edge of the bar, Trent let his head fall forward. His body trembled, and the myriad of emotions running through him had him all kinds of messed up.
He sighed and straightened, the tense twisting in his gut never easing. He wasn’t sure it ever would. How could it?
Breakups in a small town were torture. A seven-year relationship that everyone had seen as the perfect pairing was going to be the death of him. Shared friends would be caught in the middle. Family was going to be disappointed. He hadn’t gotten the balls to talk to his mom yet, because she was going to be destroyed by the news.
And they would still see each other all the time. How was he supposed to survive running into her on the street? At the grocery store? At Sarah and Wes’s wedding and Jess and Mitch’s wedding…
Too many damn weddings that weren’t his.
He roughly grabbed the broom and headed toward the shattered glass. The bristles collected the shards into a large pile, and he sighed seeing his fractured reflection in them.
“Hey, do you know the door is still locked and there’s a mob of angry, sober people outside?” Angel’s voice said behind him.
He sighed as he turned. “Bar’s closed tonight. You can head on home.” He’d sent Max away an hour ago and told him to relay the message.
“Max told me what happened,” she said sympathetically as she walked toward him, her heeled boots echoing on the empty air. “I wanted to stop by to make sure you were okay.”
He resumed his cleanup. “Fine.”
“I’m sorry, Trent.”
He was, too, but for what, he didn’t know. He didn’t owe anyone anysorrys. He’d been loyal, faithful, honest, supportive, respectful, and loving for seven long years.
Seven years that she’d simply thrown away as though they meant nothing.
Angel reached for the broom, but he held it away. “I got it.”
She shoved her hands into her jeans back pockets and rocked back and forth on her heels. “Okay…well, why don’t I make us some food? I know you probably haven’t eaten.”
