“Shit,” I said to the air. “I need more alcohol.” This edge had to be drowned. The stress that boiled in my veins was heating me up, and not in a good way. I have to get out of here, I need to just... just move around.
I needed to escape.
My bare skin was sweating, I'd ripped my shirt off after I'd spilled beer on it. Stumbling into my bedroom, I grabbed the first shirt I could find in the dark. I slid it on, my jacket following as I stumbled out the door.
More booze, I thought, slapping my arms to ward off the cold. Alcohol would warm me, just as it would erase my concerns. There was no better friend than a full bottle.
It was late, the winter clouds bloated and dark. The air that bit me warned of snow. Along the street, shops had decorated their awnings with red and green lights. The cheerful glow guided me into the first bar I could find.
I didn't even read the name.
Distantly, I knew what I was doing. I knew it as the scent of stale margaritas and filthy bathrooms hit me. I probably knew it before then, actually.
It wasn't just a blackout drunkeness that I needed. My cures involved soft tits and muscled thighs around my middle. That'd hurt her.
What, did I have a conscience suddenly?
You always did.
I had to shut my inner thoughts up with more booze. Sitting at the bar with my skull pounding, I waved the bartender closer. “Give me something hard.”
He didn't hesitate, he slid me a thick mug filled with amber liquid. I chugged the glass; it didn't matter what it was, it wasn't about taste—just the numbness.
She'll be ruined by me if I go through with this.
Her...
And the baby.
No, there was a chance I could be a good father. Fuck that chance, how could I rely on that possibility? How could I ever keep going if Nix... and my child... if their lives were tainted because of me?
Growling, I dug my injured hand into my knee. Stop thinking about it.
Stop thinking about them.
Picturing Nix just made everything worse.
“Hey, never expected to see you again.”
Turning, I studied the blonde woman. She had on a sparkly, skin-tight dress, completely inappropriate for the weather. A Try-Hard, I thought distantly. I hadn't had one of those in forever. Wait. Blinking, I recognized the woman speaking to me. “You're Trish, right?” The girl we rescued during the music concert.
Laughing, she took a deep pull from her drink. “Yup. Funny, I didn't think the notorious Abram Birch remembered the names of any women.”
My guts contorted as if razor-wire had been wound through them. She wasn't wrong; the list of women I'd forgotten was a long one.
Twisting my palm through my hair, I forced an empty smile. “That's only girls I sleep with. Not the ones I save.”
Her eyes twinkled, hip cutting a sharp angle as she leaned closer. “Ah. You know, I didn't even recognize who you were that night in the park.”
“Well, you had just been attacked.”
Trish paused, her eyes hooding. “It was a strange night. I was lucky that girl came along.”
That girl. “Nix,” I said. “Her name is Nix.”
She pursed her lips, considering me with fresh eyes. “You know her name? Guess you didn't sleep with her after all. I figured you would.”
It should have been obvious before. Somehow, it took Trish saying it to drive the point home.
I didn't forget Nix's name.
My heart was jolted, electricity running through my tongue.
I didn't forget her!
In all my life, that had never happened. Women came and went through my bedroom. They left their panties, they left hickies, but not until now had any of them left a memory.
Only her.
Only Nix Halloway.
“Nice shirt,” Trish said, fingering the edge of the garment's neck.
That was when I looked down, realizing what I'd put on in my near panic. The shirt she bought for me. In a daze, I ran my palm over the front of it. The red color made the cuts on my knuckles stand out vibrantly. That day rushed back to me; the flower shop, the tulips, the admission to Nix about making her jealous...
The ice cream we'd sat and ate together.
All of it stole my oxygen until I was light headed.
“So,” Trish purred, sliding her fingers over my shoulder. “Do you want to go back to your place, or mine?”
I stood up too fast, the bar stool went toppling. Trish backed up a step, her confusion turning her pale. “Sorry,” I said, slamming money down on the bar. “I can't do that.”
Laughing self-consciously, she tossed her hair. “Why not?”
“Because I'm about to be a married man.”
Trish stammered, but she said nothing else as I marched out that door and back into the dark night. Oddly enough, it wasn't that cold anymore. Or perhaps that was just the energy burning in my blood.
Digging my phone out, I scanned my recent calls as I walked. There, that one. Redialing the number, I listened to the ringing.
“Hello again,” the robotic voice said.
My breath was like a dragon's fiery steam. “Fuck you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said fuck you.” Something wet tickled my forehead. “I don't know who you are, but you can't force me to stay away from Nix. Money, threats, it doesn't matter. That woman is mine, do you hear me? Mine!”
There was a long pause on the line. “You're making a mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was listening to your offer.”
Slamming the phone closed, I endured the pounding of my ears. Alcohol had left me disoriented, but my determination and rage had cleansed me.
The world was bright again.
Once more, something cold bit at my skin. Water dripped down my arm, burning at the cuts healing on my hand. Looking up into the black sky, I shut my eyes and inhaled.
It had started to snow.
- Chapter Thirteen -
Nix
The number of missed calls from Abell glowed at me.
“Something on your mind?” the caterer in front of me asked.
Poking at the food sample on my plate, I smiled half-heartedly. “Kind of. It's nothing, really.”
She nodded, clearly not caring about my personal issues.
I shouldn't have to waste time with this, I thought in frustration. My mother had informed me that Corin Birch had been serious at his party, he'd insisted on arranging a reception for his friends and business partners after my ceremony.
I had an unsettling feeling he wanted to parade me around.
“Which entree do you like?” she prodded me. “So far you've tried the lemon chicken, fried chicken, herb chicken, roast chicken...”
The woman rambled on until it all blurred together. Scanning the long table covered in plates, I coughed. “Uh, they're all great.” How many kinds of chicken ARE there?
My phone buzzed again. Peeking down, I saw the text message:
Abelclass="underline" Call me back. I need to see you.
The itch to contact him—hear his voice—was massive. Playing with the edge of my phone, I fidgeted. I can't do it here, I'll wait until I leave, then—
In my hand, my phone began to vibrate. Every chamber of my heart copied that sensation, coming alive with expectation. I couldn't resist any longer.