If You Stay (Beautifully Broken, #1)(22)

Living alone is great, but sometimes it is just so f*cking lonely.

I stand still for a moment, my hands dangling at my sides, before I head back to my car. I’ve still got agitation to burn, I guess.

I don’t know why I head to the Bear’s Den, the little bar in town. I know that Jill is probably there or her other bar whore friends, and if I want to spend time with them, I’ll call them. I don’t want them hanging on me when I’m not in the mood.

And I’m definitely not in the mood for that tonight. I just want to walk in, draw up a seat at the bar and be around people, without actually having to interact with them. Is that so much to ask? I’m not in the mood for bar whores.

I nose my car into a parking slot and slam the door, taking a deep breath of the night air as I walk inside. It’s the last clean breath I’ll get once I cross the smoky threshold of the bar.

I walk in and glance through the smoky haze that floats through the dim room. Locals sit and chat, while others play pool or darts in the back. I know their faces, but not their names. I’m not much of a socializer.

True to form, Jill is here. I see her situated in the back, perched on the edge of a table, her half-naked ass shoved into some poor sap’s face. So much for her promise to get help. Quite honestly, now that I know she has kids at home, all I feel is disgust for her. What a waste of oxygen.

She notices me looking at her and her heavily made-up face lights up and she practically leaps from her table to come to me.

But I shake my head, mouthing the word No.

She looks startled, then hurt, as she stops in her tracks. I turn my back and head for the bar. As I sit down on a stool, I can see from my periphery that she sat back down at her table. I can feel her wounded gaze, but I don’t look at her. I think my time with her is over. Someone else can be her supplier and contribute toward her wasted life.

I know the bartender’s name here, because he wears it on his nametag. I guess that makes it easier for the drunks to remember. Or people who don’t really give a shit. Like me.

“Hey, Mickey,” I greet him. “I’ll have a Jack. Double, neat.”

Mickey nods, a wiry guy who looks like he’s seen better days and more than his share of bar fights. He’s got a scar running from his ear to his chin. I’ve never asked him how he got it, and he’s never offered to say.

“How you doin’, Tate?” he asks as he sets the whiskey in front of me. I pick up the glass, drain it in one gulp and thump it back down.

“Better now,” I tell him. “I’ll take another. In fact, just keep ‘em coming tonight.”

He nods, pouring one and then heads down to help someone else. I take a small gulp from my glass and set it down, closing my eyes. It feels good to be surrounded by people, but still lost in them. No one will approach me other than Jill and I shut her down already. I’m alone here, but it’s less lonely than it is at home.

Feminine giggling invades my hearing and my eyes pop open.

Because I know that laugh.

I turn in my seat to find Mila and her sister stumbling from the hallway leading to the bathroom. It looks like they are holding each other up and I roll my eyes. You’ve got to be kidding me. I run into her even here? This was the last place I would have expected to find her. She and her sister both look as out of place in this little hole as they can possibly get.

Mila glances up and stops, her giggle dying on her lips as she recognizes me. Her eyes widen and she looks like she wants to come over to me, to possibly say something. But her sister is pulling on her arm, and even though Mila looks over her shoulder at me, she allows Madison to steer her away. I’m pretty sure Madison is moving her away from me on purpose and I clench my jaw. Mila’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.

Not that her decisions are always wise.

I come to this realization very quickly as she and Madison rejoin a couple of local guys who are playing darts.

The darts aren’t the problem, the guys are.

I roll my eyes again. What the hell does Mila think she’s doing? Either one of those guys would eat her for breakfast. She probably thinks she’s safe because she’s most likely known them her whole life. But they are both snakes. I’ve seen them with a million women in this very bar, none of them twice.

I sigh and drain my glass, signaling for another. It’s not my problem. She made that clear when she said I wasn’t a good idea.

So f*ck her.

I turn away as I watch one of them wrap his meaty paw around her slender waist and pull her close, supposedly showing her how to properly throw the dart. It makes me want to hurl so I turn my back to them.

I do everything I can to ignore them. I make small-talk with Mickey. I watch ESPN on the overhead TV. I close my eyes and listen to the conversation around me. And even though I know that it would be much easier to just get up and leave, something in me wants to stay. Something in me thinks I need to stay.

[page]I can’t explain it.

And then I realize the reason in a sudden rush of clarity. I’m staying because I think she’ll need me.

Holy shit, what kind of idiot am I? I slam my glass down on the table and toss some bills on the bar. I head to the bathroom to take a leak before I go, but then I’m out of here. She’s made it clear what she wants. And it isn’t me.

When I come back out, Madison is already at the door of the bar with one of the guys. She’s leaning into him, laughing into his ear. She’s clearly very drunk. I shake my head and fight the urge to say something.