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I did care—I cared enough to let her go.
Peyton would move on. She would heal and find a guy her own age with similar hopes and dreams, and she would be happy.
She reached the door, hesitating. Waiting for something.
“Peyton,” I said, and she glanced back, heartache etched into every line of her face. The knot in my stomach tightened. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.” She slipped into the night, the door swinging shut behind her. The echo reverberated through me, like a gunshot to the chest.
It was for the best.
It was.
So why did it feel like I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life?
* * *
“You looklike you could use this.” Tash slid a glass toward me.
“Thanks,” I snatched it up and downed it in one.
“It must be bad,” she said, leaning back against the bar. “Harry, another round.”
“Coming right up, Tash.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here this late on a Wednesday night.”
“Didn’t expect to be here.” I nursed my empty glass. Already five drinks in, I felt the warm trickle of whiskey in my veins, but it offered me no comfort tonight.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Since you’ve been avoiding me, I’m thinking it has to do with the drunk blonde the other weekend.”
My jaw clenched, Peyton’s face flooding my mind. She’d looked so hurt, so fucking disappointed when I’d told her that it was for the best.
It was a mess.
Iwas a mess.
“You know, she looked young, Xander. Too young for—”
“Leave it, Tash.”
“Come on,” she nudged my shoulder, “talk to me. We used to talk about stuff, didn’t we?”
I didn’t like the suggestion in her voice.
“We can talk. But she’s off-limits.”
“Aha, so this mood is because of the blonde.”
My eyes snapped to hers. “I said—”
“Yeah, yeah. I heard you. But I’ve never seen you like this, Xander. Not over a piece of ass.”
Because I’d never cared enough before.
