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The shot glass bottom rattled along the bar as I spun it in quick turns.
“Hey, Trap.” A deep sigh escaped through my nose at the familiar voice. I didn’t pull my gaze from the empty glass even when her gentle hand rested on my shoulder. “You look like you could use some company.”
I slid my annoyed gaze to Candice. I shook my head, words too much of a burden beneath the weight of my grief.
Her beautiful face fell as she scanned my own before walking away without another word. It was unusual for me to turn away an easy lay, but tonight was for me to sulk and grieve alone.
At home with my best friend, I put on a happy fucking face, but sometimes memories became too much to hide, so I came here. Every day I pretended I’d moved on, that I was healing.
But I wasn’t.
Someday, maybe. Today was not one of those days. Today, the past and lost future made it fucking hard to breathe. It felt like the weight of my grief had accumulated the past three years and decided today was the day to suffocate me slowly.
Tomorrow would be better.
It had to be.
“Glass of water for me and him.”
I glanced at the reflection in the mirror behind the bar as Caradee climbed onto the stool beside me.
“This doesn’t seem like your kind of place,” I said, shaking my head at the glass of water that appeared in front of me. “Tequila.” I held up the shot glass and gave it a shake. “Keep them coming until I fall off this damn stool.”
“Someone told me I might find you here,” Caradee said, still trying to get on the stool.
Without looking over, I steadied the spinning seat so she could sit.
When her words registered, I tipped my face to the ceiling and groaned. “Let me guess. Shade.”
“Shade.” Tiny hands gripping the edge of the bar, she turned her seat to face me. “He said you haven’t checked in for a while and wanted me to check on you.”
Of course, the brooding and perceptive asshole picked up on my mood. And knew exactly where I was since his trauma from losing Jessa made him hyper-paranoid, which resulted in me having to not only check in throughout the day but also having a tracker in my truck.
“Worried or not, he should’ve left well enough alone.” Even though guilt churned the tequila in my stomach as I said it. I was an ass for making my best friend worry. “I’m fine.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“You’re right.” I tossed back a freshly poured shot. “But I’m getting there.”
“Trap—”
“Can it, Caradee. I’m not in the mood for false promises or sympathy.”
The notes of a song about some guy who lost the love of his life had me twisting to glare at the blaring jukebox. Thank fuck I’d purposefully left my sidearm at home or the damn thing would be full of 9mm rounds.
“Good because I’m not here to offer you either of those,” Caradee said as she poked my shoulder with a single finger. “Just to sit with my friend while he’s hurting.”
My eyes burned. Fucking hell, the tequila was weakening the thick wall I’d constructed around my feelings.
“I’m thirty-six years old,” I muttered to the empty shot glass, not daring to look at my friend. “I wanted so much more than this.”
“What do you want?” she asked. The bar stool wobbled as she attempted to scoot it closer. Reaching down, I gripped the edge of her seat and yanked it until she was tucked against my side.
“A family. A life not filled with regrets and grief. But all those dreams died with Jessa.”
Caradee rested her head against my shoulder. “Then why not make new dreams, Trap? You just said it yourself. You’re thirty-six. That’s young. Most people don’t even find themselves until their thirties. You and Shade were lucky to have her, but that doesn’t mean you won’t ever be happy again, or that you can’t have a new dream.”
“I don’t want a new dream. I want her,” I choked out.
