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I can hear the shrug of his powerful shoulders on the bench beside me. “If you say so.”
“If I say so.” Next second, I’m on my feet, mad, raging, smack-him, yell-level mad. “You’re the one who said you can’t trust me!”
“You said it too.”
“You said it first, and, I have good reason.”
He rises too, finally looks me in the eye. It’s worse. There’s nothing there: no pain, no anger, no sadness. I don’t know what happened to Nolan Storm, but he’s not in this man before me. This shell.
“And I don’t?” he says.
“I didn’t say that,” I say.
I pause again.
It occurs to me then that I’m caught in the same stupidity. Waiting for Nolan to make it better, make it right. When he was the one to make it wrong in the first place.
“So then,” I say. “We should end it.”
When he doesn’t answer again, this time I don’t wait. I leave.
I’m done waiting for Nolan Storm to make the right choice. To fight for us.
And yet, even as I finally do the right thing—way too late, of course—I still mess it up. Halfway back to my place, and then again at my building’s door, I pause, look back.
And still, even though I knew what I would find, knew it was pointless, still I’m surprised when I don’t see him there.
That he didn’t follow.
That he’s really not going to make any of this better.
Chapter 23
Nolan
“Helloooo? Nolan?” Jax waves a freckled hand in front of my face.
I rise, scowling. “Need to take a piss.”
I stalk off.
It’s not the first time I’ve zoned out during this dinner. It probably won’t be the last, either.
Why the fuck did I think going on a double date would be a good idea now?
Maybe because Jax goaded me into it, reminding me that it’s been a month since Sierra and I stopped seeing each other.
One month… Jesus, has it really been that long?
Instead of heading to the bathroom, though, I head outside.
The fresh air isn’t so fresh—it stinks of car exhaust and the Cinnabon across the street. A weird combo. I almost feel hungry for car exhaust.
My head’s all messed up these days.
Still, I go through the motions and pretend I’m not. I land on her name—Sierra Hill—as if I’ll finally delete her out of my phone, call her up, who knows.
I don’t do either, of course.
Still back on that bench, Nolan, boy…
Not wanting to leave, not wanting to stay.
That’s the thing about uncertainty: it’s always rife with possibility, potential. Make a choice and you’re locked and loaded, consequences included.
Sierra was right to leave, to say what she did. Even if I didn’t want her to, she was right, maybe.
How could we go back to how it was, when we didn’t trust each other?
And what had I expected, anyway?
Relationships don’t work. For every happy old couple you see, there are five or more who’ve separated and are living out the rest of their days as lonely, scarred husks, or are still together but hate each other’s guts.
Relationships aren’t worth the risk.
Even now, after only a few months with her, look what I am. A pathetic sack of shit, unable to bang another girl, unable to even delete Sierra out of my phone.
Sierra Hill…
I stalk back into the restaurant.
No point in hanging out outside mulling over what I already know.
That I need to fucking let go, and I can’t.
“There he is,” Jax says, pushing a freshly-ordered cocktail in front of me. “We got you something.”
“Something to cheer you up,” the pretty Asian girl beside me says, squeezing my hand. “Jax told us what you’re going through.”
“It’s nothing,” I say.
“You poor thing.” Under the table, she pats my leg.
I sip at my drink, and I can almost see it now. How tonight will end—how ten dozen other tonights have ended, at least before Sierra: We’ll drink until we’re buzzed, then head over to a club. Jax will order us all shots, or maybe it’ll be me. He’ll dance with his girl, I’ll dance with mine. Maybe we’ll see some familiar faces in the crowd, maybe not.
The after party will be at ours, filled with more people we don’t know than we do. Someone will order pizza, someone else will propose shots. And then me and this girl in my bed, this girl I’ve been with countless times before.
“It’s not nothing,” Jax argues. “There’s that article BS. Then your foreman quitting. You’re going through a lot.”
I put my drink down, surprised that I finished it in virtually one swig. “Thanks for the reminder.”
He shrugs. “It’s why I bought you this pity drink.”
“You planning on taking me out tonight too?” I flutter my lashes at him.
If tonight’s going to go like all the other tonights, I might as well go along with it. Maybe it will help, make things more like before.
