Page 161 of Tied to You

That’s it.

I put an end to our relationship. Our future together. She knows more than anyone actions speak louder than words. The way I left. I know I’ve hurt her.

My phone rings in my hand and Rocco’s name across the screen makes me shut my eyes. “Fuck,” I sigh to myself. Answering the call, I hold it away from my ear. “Yeah?”

“Fucking, yeah? That’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

“Yeah,” I say again, this time rubbing my eyes, feeling the heavy, dull thud behind them.

“You’ve fucked up big time.”

I know.

“You even know what day it is?”

I look at my phone. “Fuck.” I was thinking about Mollie. Not the deal I missed. How could I be so fucking stupid?

“Yeah. Fuck. You fucking wanker. Now, where are you?”

I sigh. “Travellers Lodge.”

“How the fuck did you end up there?”

I rode my bike until the fog began to clear. Until the miles drowned out the noise.“I’m heading back.” I stand. Collapse. The thud making me shout.

“Travis?”

“I’m okay,” I mumble, clutching at my rib.

“I don’t give a fuck. Can you ride?”

Great. Looking down at my legs, I’m seeing double. I let out a tired breath. “No.” Damn it. I need to move. I’ve already missed the meet. Maybe they managed to push it back or fob Matthew off. Stall him until we were both there.

“I’m on my way. You need to get yourself up and dressed. A lot’s happened.”

Don’t I fucking know it.

He hangs up, and I manage to get off the floor, heading to the bathroom. I end up stumbling on an empty bottle of Vodka. Of course. I drank the whole thing in one go. I was shitfaced. A mess. But I forgot. If only for two days, I forgot. The pain, it wasn’t there. The look in Mollie’s eyes, gone from my mind.

Until thinking about it makes me see it.

I should get another bottle. Start again. Remind myself why I never wanted any of this. Love hurts. Feelings hurt. But to have lived and not experienced it? Isn’t that a crime?

You’re about to get something you don’t deserve.

She’s right. I don’t deserve it. It really is that simple.

Vodka.

No.

Bathroom.

Battling with myself, I wash my face and swallow some water, my mind beginning to go round and round in circles. I start the torturous process of reliving what I said and what I did, wishing I could go back and change how I handled it. The cycle goes on and on like a loop.

Unsure how long I sit there, I only move when the telling sound of Rocco’s bike pulls up outside the hotel. I grab my things off the side and step outside into the dead of night.

Rocco shuts off his engine, his eyes firmly locked to where I’m standing. He assesses me. His eyes scrunching when he sees my face. Is that worry?