Part 13 (1/2)
It's bittersweet.
On one hand, I feel horrible and even a little heartbroken over the thought of me and Bryan never existing like this again. On the other, I know that Gavin is waiting for me on the other side.
I made my choice. Now I just have to see it through.
Bryan holds my hand and waits next to me until the valet finally pulls around with Joy's car. Turning toward me, he gazes deeply into my eyes. I feel like he's searching for something but I can't quite figure out what.
”Harlee...” he pauses, nervously biting his bottom lip, ”...when I said I loved you last night, I meant it,” he admits, seeming uncharacteristically backward.
”Bryan... I,” I start.
”Don't. You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you in person so you know it's real. I love you,” he says, leaning in to lay a sweet kiss to my mouth.
Once again I can feel the thick emotion clog my throat, and I fight back the welling tears as I tighten my grip on him, deepening the kiss. I know I'm doing it for my benefit; my way of saying goodbye, and I'm so ashamed of the action. But in this moment, I don't care. I just want him to know that no matter what happens from here on out, my feelings for him were always real.
I truly care for Bryan. I would even go as far as to say that I love him. Maybe not in the way I love Gavin, but in a way that you love someone that over time becomes a part of who you are as a whole.
I finally break the kiss, laying my forehead against his.
”Goodnight, Bryan,” I get out breathlessly, turning around and quickly climbing into the Mercedes without looking in his direction again.
I'm not even out of the parking lot before the tears start to fall. I'm so p.i.s.sed at myself. I'm p.i.s.sed that I couldn't do what I came here to do. I'm p.i.s.sed that I put myself in a position to have to do it in the first place.
I know I need to take Joy's car back, but right now there is one place I know I need to be. A place where I know I get no judgments. A place that feels more like home than any other place on this earth.
I grab my cell and pull up Angel's number. She answers on the first ring.
”I'm coming over,” I croak, not wasting time with pleasantries.
”I'll have the tequila ready.” She reads me immediately, ending the call without another word.
One great thing about having a friend like Angel is knowing that no matter what I need, she'll always be there. It's the type of friends.h.i.+p where sentences are finished and when one needs the other, everything else ceases to exist.
I need a shoulder, some tequila shots, and maybe even a good punch in the face for how f.u.c.king stupid I am for getting so mixed up in all of this.
I hit the gas pedal, loving the way the engine purrs under my sudden acceleration. I just need to get to Angel's and forget this night ever happened. There will plenty of time to beat myself up tomorrow. Tonight I just need to exist without Bryan or Gavin. I need to exist in a world where I'm not the girl torn between two men but just Harlee.
Within ten minutes, I am headed down the long, paved driveway that leads back to Angel's parents house which sits about a quarter of a mile off the roadway. Parking the car around back, I head straight for the small gray-sided guest house that sits several feet behind the main house.
Angel moved out of the main house after we graduated high school. I still remember how it took her weeks to convince her parents to let her move out here. She insisted that living in the guest house would give her a semblance of freedom while still remaining safely at home. I think her mom was sold from the beginning. It was her dad she really had to convince.
The front door swings open before I even reach the landing, and Angel appears in the doorway. Her shoulder length black hair is pinned back away from her face and she's wearing the ugliest pink pajamas I've ever seen. She's owned them for as long as I can remember and I swear as often as she wears them, it's a wonder they are still in one piece.
She gets one good look at me as I approach and immediately opens her arms, wrapping them around me the moment I reach her.
”You look like s.h.i.+t.” She squeezes me tightly before releasing me.
”You're one to talk,” I bite playfully, pus.h.i.+ng past her into the house.
I cross the small s.p.a.ce to the corner where a fluffy gray couch is pressed against the far wall. Collapsing on top of it, I let out a frustrated groan, rubbing my hand across my forehead.
”That bad huh?” She appears next to me, flopping down to my right.
”Worse.” I turn my face toward her, just now noticing the bottle of tequila in her hand.
”Wanna talk about it?” She smiles, dangling it in front of me.
Snagging the bottle from her hand, I quickly cross to the opposite wall that houses a small, galley style kitchen. Pulling down two shot gla.s.ses from the cabinet like I have so many times before, I set them on the counter before filling each one to the rim.
”First, we drink.” I hand Angel her shot when she comes to stand next to me in the kitchen.
We clink gla.s.ses and drink our shots in unison.
Only a friend like Angel would let me show up at her house this late on a weeknight with no explanation and immediately start drinking with me. No matter what else happens, at least I have her.
My friends are something I will never take for granted. At the end of the day, when all of this is said and done, they may be all I have left.
Chapter Fifteen.
Gavin ”Oh s.h.i.+t, this has trouble written all over it,” Decklan says, exiting his apartment to find me and Paxton lounging at the bar, a bottle of scotch sitting directly between us.
”Where's your old lady?” Paxton leans forward to refill his gla.s.s.
”Asleep.” He flips his eyes between the two of us. ”Like you f.u.c.kers should probably be,” he says, sliding out the stool next to Paxton before taking a seat.
”Because you're f.u.c.king one to talk.” I lean forward, grabbing a rocks gla.s.s from the other side of the counter before sliding it down the bar toward Deck. ”Now shut the f.u.c.k up and have a drink with us,” I say.
”Didn't you hear?” Paxton interjects. ”Deck here is too good to hang out with us now.”
”f.u.c.k you,” Decklan huffs, snagging the bottle of scotch off the bar before filling his gla.s.s.
”No really, it's cool,” Paxton continues. ”Trade your brothers in for a chick. We see how it is.”
”What can I say; she smells better than you f.u.c.kers and is much better to look at, too.” He gives Paxton an evil grin before swigging down the contents of his gla.s.s.
”I'm hurt. Are you saying we're not pretty enough for you?” I chime in.
I love getting the opportunity to bust Decklan's b.a.l.l.s. I get to do it so little these days.
”That's exactly what I'm saying.” He laughs, refilling his gla.s.s. ”Seriously, though, what the f.u.c.k are you guys still doing here?” His question prompts me to look up at the clock for the first time in a while.
”f.u.c.k, is it really four in the morning?” I turn wide eyes on Paxton who just shrugs before taking another drink of his scotch.
”We were just bulls.h.i.+tting,” I finally answer his original question. ”Why aren't you in bed yourself?”
”Couldn't sleep.” He takes another long drink.