Page 62 of Just Between Us

“It’s too damnloud in here,” I shout to my brother over the music and voices.

A band is set up in the corner covering ’90s country, with bodies packed in here like sardines in a can. I’ve been in Nashville for two weeks now. By day, I throw my all into helping with the foundation, and by night I aim to forget.

“You’re the one who dragged me here after a long day at work,” Ryan says, leaning in to be heard. “I swear, the closer it gets to the holidays, the more feral those kids become.”

He came here straight from the D&D club he sponsors at school, still in his khakis and button-down. He even wore his name badge on a lanyard until I pointed it out and he stuffed it in his pocket.

Meanwhile, I’m sure I look like shit. My facial hair has grown to a messy scruff. I’ve hardly slept. The shirt and jeans I’m wearing are the same ones from yesterday. Even the kids at the foundation have noticed something’s off. Earlier today, I lost my patience and snapped at a kid, and later Rhonda found me half asleep in her office. She told me to cut out early, looking equal parts worried and fed up. Which is how I landed myself here at the bar.

I signal to a waitress, and she heads our way.

“Another round, boys?” She places a hand on my shoulder and winks.

I resist the urge to shrug her off.

“Two shots of whiskey. The best you’ve got.” This will be my third round, because apparently I hate my liver. I know I’m drinking too much too fast, but still it’s done nothing to quiet the noise in my head.

“One shot for me, and that’s it, Liam. I’m not up for a hangover tomorrow.”

All I can muster is a grunt of acknowledgement.

Within minutes, our shots arrive and we throw them back in unison, the burn familiar and almost comforting at this point.

“How long do you plan on doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Ryan rolls his eyes and scoffs. He and I both know what he’s really asking. He’s been at me for days, trying to get me to talk.

“Ryan, you have no idea what it’s like living inside my head.”

“And nobody ever will unless you talk about it.” His voice rises in frustration. “Instead, you roll into town on a mission to self-destruct, and that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. Did you even come home last night?”

The answer is no. And the admission sits heavy in my gut like a stone.

I woke up this morning in a strange hotel room, blonde curls fanning out on the pillow next to me. I think her name started with a K. Katie? Kayla? I know we had sex, though the details are hazy. What I do remember is checking for traces of lipstick. Any signs of a kiss, hickeys. I found none. But fuck.

The not remembering made me feel like an even bigger asshole. I slipped out before she woke up. Sure as hell didn’t leave my number and didn’t ask for hers. I should know by now this doesn’t work. Waking up with women I don’t know alwaysleaves me with a hollowed out feeling and hating myself a little more each time.

“I came home,” I lie.

“Bullshit. Your bed was empty this morning.”

I look away, unable to meet his eyes. His disappointment sits like a third fucking person at our table. It’s whatever.

Ryan drags a hand down his face. “Christ, Liam. You need water,” he says and stands.

“I don’t need?—”

“You need water,” Ryan repeats, and heads to the bar, returning with two glasses of ice water. “Drink,” he commands, sliding a glass my way.

Sighing, I bring it to my lips and take a long swig.

“Talk to me. What happened? Last we talked, you were actually good.” He looks at me, searching for something he won’t find. “Now look at you. Drinking like you have a death wish. Sleeping with the first pretty face that comes along.”

“This is who I am, Ryan.” I fling both arms wide. “This is what I do.”

“You don’t believe that.”