Page 69 of Clashing
No one had ever managed to get Fred to talk, but there he was. Talking. Sharing pictures and almost smiling.God.That open heart of Scarlett’s drew people in.
The guys shot me a look every time I glanced her way. I scowled at them to no avail. Unable to handle so many pairs of eyes sayingwhy the fuck would you let her get away, I found solace in the bathroom. Splashed cold water on my face and tried to remind myself—and my dick—that it was over. I couldn’t have her, and I needed to let it go.
The universe must’ve wanted to punish me because I exited the bathroom at the same time Scarlett started down the hallway. We awkwardly sidestepped each other and she gave me another one of those shy smiles.
I hate this.
I had to walk past and ignore how gorgeous she was. With much effort, I tried. But I couldn’t ignore the other thing.
I paused and flexed my unsteady hands. “Scar?”
She stopped.
“Thanks for doing that for Fred. He doesn’t usually open up like that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes it takes the right person with the right words.”
Right. She was definitely the right person. And I was the wrong one.
I nodded and kept walking because looking at her was too fucking difficult. Returning to the bar, I ordered another drink. Then another, ineffectively trying to erase the image of her in that dress.
“You think drinking is going to help?” Francis asked, taking the seat next to me.
“Don’t fucking start.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Francis pushed my drink away. “Go fucking get her.”
“I can’t.” I snatched my glass.
“Yes, you can. You’re being a coward.”
“I’m not being a coward. It’s best for her. I’m not good for her. Drop it.”
“Pretty sure it’s her decision to make on whether or not you’re good for her.” He shook his head and stood. “A girl like that does not stay available, Ryker. And you’re going to feel like shit the day she shows up with another guy when that guy could’ve been you.”
He left me there alone. Pissed off. Frustrated.Hurting.I pulled out my wallet and dropped cash on the bar, unable to take anyone else’s shit today.
Going home without Scarlett on a Sunday plunged me deeper into depression. She always came home with me on Sundays. I entered the garage, and the fucking dogs sniffed around my motorcycle then stared out the door expectantly.
“For fuck’s sake, she’s never been here without me.” They whined. “If she were here, she’d be here when I pull in.”
They didn’t care. Instead, they lay on the ground and watched down the road.
“Fucking traitors, I swear.” I yanked open the door, then trudged upstairs.
A bottle of scotch later, I stumbled to bed. My phone pinged. A message from Nick that made me throw my phone on the ground because it wasn’ther. I fell back on my mattress and my stomach sank at the scent of Scarlett’s perfume lingering on the sheets. I couldn’t escape her.
I don’t want to escape her.
My phone vibrated again and a small, delusional part of me hoped it’d be her. Groaning, I rolled over and retrieved my phone from the floor. No Scarlett. Only a message from Francis. I dropped my phone, and it thudded on the ground.
Fuck, I should answer one of them.Otherwise, they might show up at my house. I reached blindly and patted the ground. Instead of finding my phone, I found something softer. Lifting the object, my heart skipped. A hair tie of Scarlett’s.
“Give me a fucking break.” I hurled it under the bed before flopping down in my empty, cold sheets.
The bed didn’t offer much rest by the time sunlight filtered in my windows. I threw myself into work, getting as many bounties as I could in one week. Conrad was happy but it changed nothing for me.
I went to the bar on Thursday but spotted her from the street, gliding to Dan’s house with a covered pan in her hands. Probably cooking him dinner because that pain in the ass was also a complete sweetheart when she wanted to be.
