Page 2 of Under the Texas Sky
“Okay,” I agree, feeling the bone deep exhaustion trying to take hold. I don’t let it; I can't. I need to get out of here.
Standing up, the bedroom we’ve shared for the past year swims in my vision. The photos of us lining the walls, his full lengthmirror filled with sticky notes that I've written to him over the years. Every one of them is a testament to our love. Of my love and devotion to him.
I’ve let him down.
My mind flashes back to what caused the spiral. This time. My boss at work being on my ass, again. Me being fired because of my “terrible attitude.” Drinking.
Drinking.
Drinking.
I’ve always told myself it could be worse. It could be worse than alcohol. It could be drugs. I could be like my step-father who used to inject that shit right into his veins and take it out on anyone and everyone when he couldn’t get his next fix. I’m not better though–not then and definitely not now.
Kian watches me, his tight ringlet curls lying across his forehead. I want to brush them back, to look at his smooth face and dimpled chin and hear those three words whispered softly from his mouth.
Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest, flexing the muscles of his arms beneath the material of the polo shirt he has to wear for work. Those are strong arms that have held me through the worst of times, and celebrated with me during the highs.
I slowly pack my overnight bag, not paying attention to what I shove in there because I don’t care. Nothing matters.
“I called Mitch. He said you can stay with him.”
Mitch, of course. Of fucking course Kian called him. I want to glare at my boyfriend, but I can’t because I know he did it with the best intentions. He wants me to stop drinking, to clean up my act, to get an actual job.
He also knows Mitch will be enough of an asshole to force me to do it. The old man is too hard headed to let anything happen to me or Kian, and it’s been that way since the first day we met.
“Okay.” Everything is okay. That’s the only word in my vocabulary right now when everything is obviously not fucking okay.
“Just… please. Please Trent.”
I lift my eyes and watch two crystal lines run down Kian’s face, and I know. I just know that if I don’t get my shit together this time, it’s over between us. He doesn’t have to say that, I can see it on his face. Written in the constellations of freckles lining his cheeks.
“I will Ki, I promise,” I tell him.
And with that, I sling my bag over my shoulder and approach him like I would a scared animal. Tentative steps across the wood floor until I’m standing in front of him. His features are dainty from my point of view, the pointed tip of his nose. His strong jawline. His green eyes are so beautifully framed by dark lashes. I want to kiss him, to press my lips against his until our problems melt away into the void.
“I’ll be back. And I’ll be worthy of you. Wait for me, okay?”
He nods, solemnly. I rest the underside of my jaw against the top of his head, inhaling his floral shampoo. Until the smell of flowers, warmth, and summer are embedded in my nose.
“Always,” he promises.
Then I walk out of the bedroom, out the door, and into the warm Texas air. Letting the heat assault my skin.
I can do this.
CHAPTER 2
TRENT
I can’t do this. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Except, that’s the problem isn’t it? I wasn’t. All I know is I was fucking sad, and the only way to numb the pain is at the bottom of a bottle.
That’s how I ended up here, in this cheap dive bar, filled to the brim with way too many people. The loud music blares through the speakers, causing me to pick up the glass again.
The resounding thud of the drums matches the rhythm of my heart. Just another drink, and I can calm down. Just another drink and I can go to Mitch’s and sleep this off, and get on track to being good for Kian again.
The bartender slides another glass over to me and tips her head, pity and something else in her gaze. “You need this,” she says.
Water.
