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My dream breaks, splintering into a screaming headache. Whimpering, I gulp down a breath and curl away from the sensation of wakefulness.
Pity.
Consciousness alone is too much for me to bear.
In horrific snapshots, last night pulses in the back of my mind, echoing things I wish didn’t actually happen.
Swallowing feels like choking on sand, so I whisper a curse and fight my own throat as I line up the pieces of what I remember.
Corbin challenged me to a game of beer pong with shots of tequila.
Not only was he good at it, he also holds his liquor better than I do, which means he was good at it longer.
Alas, I was raised with parents who taught me how to be the ax murderer you want to see in the world, not how to resist peer pressure; therefore, when my limit crept up on me, I was already too drunk to ignore Corbin’s cheap taunts. If only Chip or Lace had been there, they could have intervened. Unfortunately, my stupid friends were out on a date. Or something. Now that I’m in a place where I’m reluctantly thinking about it, yesterday might have been their anniversary.
Screw them.
Screw romance.
Screw…everything.
I don’t deserve to be in Rowan’s bed after what I said to him last night. I misunderstood what was going on, blamed him for my collapse of cognitive function, then got inexplicably hurt.
Whenever the lump of flesh in my skull has the audacity to feel something, it affects everything. In me. Around me. The pain is all I can think about, so my response is always elaborate, extreme, insane.
I know why I lashed out.
But that doesn’t explain why I felt.
Even now that I can almost chronologically place yesterday’s events, I don’t understand the chilling hurt that crawled into my veins when I thought Rowan had betrayed me.
I’m used to betrayal.
I don’t care about betrayal. People who betray me are idiots because trying to stab me in the back is a sure way to lose everything I offer to those I claim. I’ve always given more to my relationships than anyone has ever given to me, so my absence alone destroys my opposition.
I don’t have to waste my time on idiots who thought they could manage without me. I don’t have time to feel bad that I’m no longer cohorting with the ignorant.
After all, losing someone to betrayal is nothing like losing someone to death.
When someone disappears against their will, when someone still wants to be with me…but can’t… That hurts. That’s the only leaving that I ever allow myself to feel.
I’ve seen enough gunfights, territory disputes, and kidnappings to know the difference between the annoyance of someone inevitably destroying themselves and the kind of agony that deserves my attention.
Last night, if Rowan had betrayed me, it should have been an annoyance.
I should have laughed my head off at the mere idea of it until I passed out again.
How am I supposed to recover from what actually happened now?
I’m…ashamed.
The dense throb in my skull vibrates through my teeth, up my jaw, down my neck. The ringing in my bones makes it hard to breathe, and I want nothing more than to fade into the abyss again—never to return.
My options look grim.
Either Rowan—in all his kindness and goodness—forgives me, and I suffocate on the resulting guilt, or he stops trusting me, and I lose everything I’ve worked for.
Actually.
