Finding A Way (23 page)

“I lost him. I really lost him, Sierra!”

A small frown falls on her lips while her brows crease in confusion.

“Who are you talking about, Callie? Who did you lose?”

“Mac.”

Through the sound of my sobs, I speak his name for the first time I walked in the door and it shatters my heart to pieces. The shards stab me, replacing my once butterfly filled body with pain.

Sierra rubs my back in small circles, a sigh escaping her.

"I didn't know you ever had him, Cal..."

I pull back to look at her, the tears coming heavier and faster now.

"Me either," I admit.

It's the truth. I just lost a man I didn't know I had or wanted to have, but somewhere along the way of spending time with him, my heart got involved. Feelings developed, and I was too pig-headed to let myself realize they were there.

And now he's gone.

I dropped
Callie off and headed straight to Max's even though they’re not open to the public for another two hours. I know Ryleigh is there. She's always early to get the place together. I shoot her a text on the way and let her know I'm coming by. I need a drink. Actually fuck that, I need an entire bottle, if not two.

I knock on the bar door. Ryleigh comes to open it for me. I look around seeing it's just me and her here, which works for me.

She's the only chick I plan on confessing my problems to.

"Why the hell do ya need booze this early? You could have just gone to the packy instead of sitting your ass in here." She reaches behind the bar and sends a shot my way.

I reach for it, flinging it back. The liquor burns on the way down, but I welcome it. I welcome the burn, and I welcome the buzz it gives me.

"I fucked up, Ry."

A concerned look flashes over her face while she grabs a beer for herself. She searches my face for any clue to what I’ve done, but I’m gonna say she isn’t finding any. I know right now, on the outside, I look emotionless. But on the inside, I’m fucking dying.

"What did you do?"

I place my head in my hands and let out a sigh. I feel Ryleigh staring at me, probably wondering what could have happened that would drive me to drink at one in the afternoon.

"I got attached to her," I confirm, biting back a slew of curse words.

I'm so fucking stupid. I should’ve known better than to let it get like this. I shouldn't have seen her every fucking day. I shouldn't have held her. I shouldn't have kissed her. I should’ve kept my distance. Yet here I am, drinking over her in a bar in broad fucking daylight.

Ryleigh stays quiet for a minute before speaking.

"I already know this. I picked up on that the other night. So, why don't ya tell me the other part of the story?"

I lift my head up to see her standing there with a smug look on her face. Tapping the bar to signal for another shot, I gladly shoot back whatever she just poured me.

"I fucked up big time. I've held her every night for the past week Ry. I told her shit about my past. I kissed her hair. I listened to her. I comforted her. I took her on the back of my bike for fuck’s sake. You know what that means for me. Hell, I haven't even slept with a bitch in days because of her. I wanted to, but I kept fucking thinking about her, you know? I haven't stopped thinking about her. She's like a fucking leech. I can't get her out of here." I point to my head.

Ryleigh just watches me, waiting for me to continue. She knows me well. So, I assume she knows what's coming next. She crosses her arms, letting me continue my one man pity party.

"Then today, I tried to fuck her at the shop. I don't know what I was thinking. She let me stick my tongue down her throat, taste her, and touch her. Then she told me no and I freaked the fuck out on her. I made her fucking cry, Ry. Who the hell does that? She doesn't want me, and I flip out like a goddamn woman."

Ryleigh's eyes show compassion while her lips find her bottle. This is why I love this girl. She's a good listener. She doesn't judge me. She doesn't lecture me. She lets me be the asshole I truly am.

"What qualifies as freakin' out?" she asks.

I run my free hand through my hair roughly, pulling at my hair a little bit. I let out another breath which I feel like I've been holding.

"I know she feels about me the way I feel about her. I fucking know it Ry, but she won't admit it. She wants to play the ‘let’s be friends’ game. I thought I could be good with it, you know, friends, but I can't. I can't be friends with someone who I imagine fucking in my bed every night. It's impossible! I mean, she said I see her as another notch in my bed post for fuck’s sake! That isn’t even close to the truth. She's not like the whores I usually get with. She's better than that. I would never fucking hurt a hair on her."

Ryleigh pours me another shot before replying.

"Did ya tell her she's not another notch? She seems nice."

I shake my head from side to side in disbelief at the entire situation.

"Yeah, I fucking did. Then, you wanna know what I did? I showed her the door. Like I do when anyone gets close. Like a fucking pussy. I told her we couldn’t keep seeing each other. I gave her an ultimatum."

She takes another pull from her beer and I fish a smoke out of my pack and light it. The nicotine grants me an instant release from the stress I'm feeling.

"Well take my advice, from one who has a pussy to a pussy like you. If you let that girl go completely Mac, you are a fucking igit. Give her some time from ya obviously being a nut case, but don't wait too long. I've never seen ya so hung up on a woman like this, so she must be something wicked. Callie seems like a good girl. She’s the marrying type, Mac. Can you handle that if you get it? Can you handle a woman instead of a little girl?"

I toss back my shot. I shrug my shoulders casually, feeling a little better with the buzz from the liquor.

"I’d give up everything for her, Ry. It's those fucking pink Chuck Taylors."

Ryleigh lets out a loud laugh, sipping on her beer. She cocks her eyebrows at me, shaking her head in a disapproving motion.

"You're really blaming this all on a pair of shoes? What's the entire male population coming to when a pair of shoes can make a man fall in love with a woman? That's some wicked pissa shit."

I glare at her as I speak. She needs to slow down with that shit. I may enjoy being around the chick, but the reasons aren’t clear right now. My dick may be half of the reason, but the other half is currently undecided.

"Let's not get carried away here. Love doesn't have a damn thing to do with it right now."

She laughs. "Mmmhmmm. Keep telling yourself that, playboy."

I made my way over to the garage after I left the bar, hoping work will distract me from the aching which is going on in my chest. Every time I close my eyes, I see Callie. Tears running down her face, the smile I love gone, and her face as I kissed her lips.

The shit I said to her was wrong, and I fucking know it, but I can't change that I said it. Letting her go was the best thing for both of us. I’m the poison and she is the cure. Without each other, neither one of us will exist. We're opposites which will always come back to each other some way, somehow. We need each other.

My phone rings just as I get a beer out of the small fridge in the garage. I pull out my phone and see Caroline's name flashing across the screen. I hit answer, connecting the call.

"What?" I snap at her harshly.

She doesn't deserve my pissed off mood, but I can't help it. This is what she gets for blowing up my phone twenty-four seven. For texting me and calling me non-fucking stop.

“Are you at the garage?” she asks me. Her voice small and unsure.

I take a pull from my beer, plopping down in the metal chair that sits by the work bench.

“Yes, Caroline. Why?” I ask, waiting for her answer.

I know I shouldn't have answered. I should of let her call go to voicemail like the rest. My head is just too fucked up right now. There's a million things running through it and the weight from them feels like it's crushing my chest.

“Can I come see you, Bear...?”

I close my eyes and lean back in the chair, taking another pull. I'm making a horrible mistake. I should tell her no she can't see me, but instead I tell her she has ten minutes to get here otherwise the offer expires.

The longest ten minutes of my life tick by. Each minute a new thought plows through my head, readying it to explode from the pressure. I keep my eyes closed, faces and memories floating through the blackness.

Ten minutes.

I should’ve said no. I shouldn't have even answered. I know this has bad news written all over it. Caroline has plans and motives of her own.

Nine minutes.

I should just fucking leave. Go home, go anywhere, but here.
Ha
. Who am I kidding? Caroline would find me. She would just show up at my house, banging on my front door until I answered the damn thing.

Eight minutes.

Leah. How much of her I see in Caroline. Part of the reason I choose to ignore her. It's painful how much she resembles Leah. I look at her and it's all I see. It takes me to a dark place which I never want to go back to. It's toxic to me and everyone else around.

Seven minutes.

Callie. My beautiful fucking Callie. The one woman who could save my fucked up soul. The woman I shoved out the door when she didn't return my feelings. Her laugh, her smile, her eyes, her mind, and her body. The total package. My missing piece.

Six minutes.

I know what I need to do tonight. Break all ties that lead to Caroline. Tell her I can't see her anymore. She needs to lose my number, lose my name, and lose the memories. She'll thank me one day. A day when she finds a man who can give it all to her. A man who can give her the things I can't, the things I won't give to anyone except Callie.

I don't even make it to five before my phone flashes a text across the screen. I don't look at it. I already know it's from Caroline telling me she's here asking me to let her in. Instead of getting up, I don't move. I sit here drowning my pain in the contents of a bottle. The door haunts me as I stare at it. Do I open it or do I ignore it? I pray Caroline won't be standing on the other side of it, but I know I’m not that lucky.

I lean back, setting my phone and bottle on the work bench behind me and get up, walking toward the door. I hear my phone buzz again from across the room as I open it.