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Did Jillian ever love me?
Or was I just someone she used and threw away?
Yeah.
That’s exactly what I was to her.
And just like Johnny—I was fucking shocked.
No one in the bar so much as breathed while I sang. And it made me feel an odd kinship with the strangers who watched and listened to me.
They knew my pain.
They knew what I’d gone through.
They knew my fucking life was never going to be the same.
When I finished, everyone clapped, hooted, and whistled. I smiled and for the first time in a while, I looked out at the crowd.
And saw her.
Jillian sat at the bar.
And I saw her.
Wiping underneath her eyes.
She wasn’t the only one in the room doing that.
Feelings—yeah.
Feelings.
I felt all the fucking feelings.
Jesus Christ.
I needed to stop doing that.
How? I didn’t know. But I’d have to learn pretty fucking fast. I couldn’t keep going at this rate.
I needed to get a life.
One that didn’t include me singing break-up songs while the reason for the break-up listened in the same room.
I took one last look out at the crowd and nodded my head in thanks. After that, I stood and packed away my guitar.
It was time to get the hell out of here.
Now.
I stepped off the stage and walked over to the bar. The opposite end to where Jillian sat. Then I stopped and gestured to the bartender. He dropped his current order and grabbed a glass for me.
Normally, I’d insist he finish what he was doing. But I needed one for the road.
Feeling the burn of the whiskey down my throat might help me forget.
Forget about Jillian.
