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“I’m sorry, Lara.”
“Yeah, you are,” she packs up her things. “I’d stay to help you with the mess in the kitchen but I don’t feel safe with you.”
I stand, “Lara, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what happened. You don’t have to—”
“Chase, just stop. You’ll keep being you and keep being sorry and keep having excuses, but you’ll keep doing what you want anyway. I have neither the time nor the inclination to put up with your bullshit.”
I take a breath and sit back down. What the fuck is the point?
“Find whatever you didn’t destroy in the kitchen for your dinner. There should be some microwave dinners left.”
She shakes out some pills out of two different bottles and puts them on the coffee table.
“You can take these after you eat, then go to bed.”
“Lara I’m so sorry, please believe me.”
“Yeah, okay, I believe you.” She throws her bag over her shoulder.
Fuck.
I stare at the bottle of whiskey—at least I’ve got that.
I hear Lara’s footsteps heading for the front door and then it opens.
I reach for the bottle.
“Same old Chase.” I turn and see her pause for a moment by the door, a sad look on her face. She shakes her head, steps out and softly closes the door behind her.
She’s gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Dominic
I have a meeting in town with Paul, and when I get back to home base, I don’t see a lot of bikes in the parking lot, but I do see Lara’s Prius.
I haven’t talked to her in days. Over the last few weeks, our relationship has changed. It’s not what I want it to be, but that’s a different story altogether. Even though I don’t often spend time in the public bar, tonight I’ll make an exception.
I push through the saloon doors and see the usual suspects…the hang-arounds, a few local regulars…then spot Lara talking to Stacey over at the counter.
I get some shouted greetings as I walk by and politely return them. Stacey sees me coming and opens a beer.
She places it next to Lara so I can take my first sip before I sit down.
“Where haveyoubeen?” Lara asks with a slight hint of annoyance.
“Work stuff. What’s with you? Something wrong?”
She looks at me with pursed lips and says, “Chase.”
I’m not going to let her make me feel guilty about this. “You chose to do that, I didn’t ask you to.”
“You mean the doctor wasn’t supposed to treat the unconscious man who’d been beaten so badly he couldn’t even stand up?”
“Seriously, Dom,” Stacey adds. “You should’ve seen him when he came in here. It’s a miracle he was able to ride back from wherever he was.”
I take a sip of my beer. “Trust me, Chase has been through worse.”
