Take (Need #2)(4)
And now she’s with him. Will be with him for the rest of the night.
Goddamn it, what the hell am I going to do? How the hell am I supposed to get through tonight?
On the way back to the hotel, I veer off the road and into the parking lot of a liquor store with the intention of buying every damn bottle they have in stock.
I watch him leave, and it’s the very last thing I expected him to do. I asked him to. He told me he would if I asked, but . . .
“Kira, are you okay?” Austin asks me, coming closer.
I can’t take my eyes off Brayden, even as he starts the car and speeds off . . .
“Kira?”
“Huh?” I shake my head, trying to focus on Austin.
My eyes are still locked on the road, even though Brayden turned the corner and is long gone.
“Kira, babe, you wanna go inside and relax for a bit?” Austin’s hand lands on my arm.
I can’t stop thinking about the look on Brayden’s face.
Can’t stop thinking about him, period.
He left. He actually left because I asked him to.
So why do I feel so wrong about it?
“What the f*ck do you mean you left her with Austin?”
I don’t pull the phone away from my ear, even though Ryan’s yell is loud enough to pierce my eardrum. Sitting on the loveseat in the hotel room, I stare blankly at the wall, holding my phone with one hand, a bottle of Lagavulin in the other.
There’s another two bottles waiting at my feet. Just in case. I threw down more than three hundred dollars on all three bottles, but considering how this specific type of scotch always lays me out on my ass, I consider it money well spent.
Tipping the bottle, I take another swig. “I had no choice, Ryan.” Shit. I sound as defeated as I feel.
As drunk as I’m starting to get, too.
“What the hell do you mean you had no choice?” Ryan yells. There’s a soft feminine voice in the background, soothing him, telling him to relax.
He’s with Dana. Sure, I dropped him off at her place, but it’s still a new concept—Ryan with a girlfriend.
I’m here, in this hotel room, with nothing but this rage and agony pulsing through me.
I’m happy for him—he finally got his girl. I really am. Still hurts, though.
He didn’t hurt her as much as I’ve hurt Kira.
Is she busy trying to forget me? Trying to hurt me some more? Is she allowing Austin to do every single goddamned thing I’d kill to do to her?
Another swig.
“Answer me, Brayden.”
“She asked me to,” I whisper, and another gulp burns its way down my throat. My stomach turns, almost rejecting it. I’m drinking too much, too fast.
Let me get sick. Don’t care. It sure as shit can’t feel worse than I feel right now.
“And that’s enough of a reason for you to just leave him there?”
“She has so many reasons to hate me already . . . she looked so sad. There were tears in her eyes. She asked me not to ruin her birthday any more.” I hear myself uttering the words as if from afar, lost in the twisting labyrinth of misery in my head.
I’m so f*cked up over this girl. I shouldn’t be. I should have never allowed any woman to have this much power over me.
Hah! Allow. As if I ever truly had a choice.
Ryan is silent and I hear Dana speaking to him in the background. From the little bits I manage to pick up, I can tell she’s now fully in on what’s going on. That she’s giving him advice.
Sounds like she’s telling him to side with me, to understand. That I have a point.
If I wasn’t so utterly morbid right now, I might be able to smile at that.
Ryan sighs. “I don’t like him near her.”
I throw my head back and laugh bitterly at that statement. There’s no need for me to even tell him what that laugh means; he knows.
“Shit. My bad, bro. I keep forgetting this is probably harder for you than me.”
The bottle is raised to my lips again. I’m halfway through it by now, can feel the alcohol starting to hit. The numbing buzz taking over.
It’s not anesthesia. Nowhere near close. Nothing short of that will dull the pain I’m starting to realize.
“Maybe I should just head over to the party,” he says.
“She’ll end up hating you, too.” It’s true. We’ve both gone about this the wrong way, no matter how entitled we are. Kira is a woman, with her own free will. With her own right to decide what’s best for her—what’s going to help her forget the pain I caused her. Help her be happy again.
Us getting in the way of that only hurts her more.
But, f*ck, I just wish to high hell it wouldn’t have been Austin.
“So what the hell are you going to do?”
“I have no f*cking clue,” I grit out.
“Are you giving up?”
I stare down at the hazel eyes of the kitty tattoo on my wrist. “I think she wants me to.”
“Can you?”
The answer to that is easy. “I don’t think so.” But that’s not where it ends. Suddenly, it’s all bursting out of me, like a flood, unstoppable. Destructive. “What does it matter, though? I gave her every reason to hate me—”