Fisher's Light(21)

I can’t pretend like the things he said to me earlier were all lies, a way for him to push me away so I wouldn’t have to continue watching him fall down that deep, dark well. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve seen the betrayal and the hard truth of the words he spoke to me in living color.

My legs give out as we make it through the door of Barney’s and out onto the sidewalk. I don’t know who is holding me up or who is helping me walk at this point. Ellie and Bobby have a tight hold on me, both of them giving me words of apology and reassurance that I don’t even bother listening to as they take me away from the bar and my shattered hopes.

I’ve lost him. Everything he ever promised me was a lie. He was never going to find his way back to me.





Chapter 8




Fisher

Present Day


Lucy turns around and glares at me when I say her name. I might have added a little song to my voice when I said it, just like old times. I want to get a rise out of her. I want some sort of proof that she still feels something for me. I hate the fact that she’s clinging to this *’s arm so tightly that she’s probably cutting off circulation, practically begging him to keep her safe from the big bad wolf.

I want to say something cocky. I want to smirk at her and make some sort of joke about how I’m back and she can kick this jerk to the curb, but I can’t find my f*cking voice. Jesus, how in the hell did I stay away from this woman for over a year? I didn’t want to, that’s for damn sure, but I had to. I was headed down a path that neither of us would have recovered from, and I couldn’t take her with me. I’d already done more damage to her than I cared to admit when I pushed her away, more harm than I ever wanted to think about, but that’s why I’m here. I have to relive all of that shit and I have to find a way to erase all of the pain I inflicted on her. It’s part of my recovery and it’s the only way I stand a chance in hell of proving to her that I never meant the things I said to her a year ago. I never meant to do what I did to her in that kitchen the last time I came home. It was a mistake. Every word I spoke and everything I did was a mistake, and I want to take it all back and make it right again. She just has to give me a chance to make it right.

“Jefferson.”

My first name on her lips sounds like a curse. I’ve never gone by that name since I share it with my father and my grandfather; it’s too confusing. I hate that damn name, but it’s still the most beautiful f*cking sound in the world coming from her mouth, so I don’t complain.

“If you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere else to be,” she says in a polite, pissy voice as she starts to move away.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” I ask, nodding to the fancy * in the suit with his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder, touching my girl. Standing close to my girl. Doing God knows WHAT with my f*cking girl.

I will not lose my shit, I will not lose my shit.

I’ve come too far and worked too hard to go back a thousand f*cking steps right now. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down and put an easy smile on my face that I sure as hell don’t feel.

Lucy sighs and closes her eyes briefly. “Fisher, this is Stanford Wallis, Stanford, this is Jefferson Fisher.”

Dipshit actually has the foresight to remove his arm from Lucy’s shoulders when she says my full name.

“Wow, so you’re Jefferson Fisher. I’ve heard a lot about you from your father,” he says, his eyes widening as he holds his hand out to me.

I grab onto it, squeezing it a little harder than I probably should, but what the f*ck? “That’s right, Stanley, I’m Jefferson Fisher. My friends call me Fisher, so you can call me Jefferson.”

“Oh, good Lord,” Lucy mutters quietly.

“Actually, it’s Stanford. No one calls me Stanley,” he laughs nervously.

Gripping his hand just hard enough to feel his bones rub together, I drop it quickly and nod. “Good to know, Stanley.”

I bring my drink up to my lips, pausing before taking a sip. Lucy eyes the drink and I don’t miss the look of worry that flashes across her face. She might not want to, but she still cares, and it warms my cold f*cking soul and stops me from shoving my fist into Nancy Stanley’s mouth.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s just sparkling water,” I tell her softly.

Her eyes jerk away from the glass and meet mine. She scrunches up her nose and it takes every single muscle in my body to keep myself from closing the space between us and kissing that damn nose.