No. I couldn’t have done anything to change this. Her mind was already made up.
What’s hard is that the memories are so persistent. I still feel her in my bed, and I still see her face when I close my eyes to go to sleep.
The truth is no one will come close to her in my heart, not ever. No one will fit perfectly like she does when she lays her head against my chest. I was desperate for her to feel like I did. That’s why I yelled at her. I regretted it the second it happened, but I can’t take it back. Not now.
I’ve focused nonstop on work for the past five days, and when I get home, I drink until I fall asleep. It’s not healthy, but it’s working, about as well as a bandaid on a gaping wound that needs stitches.
Saturday mornings used to be my favorite day of the week. Wake up and watch tv with stacks of fluffy pancakes like a seven-year-old, but doing that alone isn’t something that excites me anymore. So instead, I do a couple of loads of laundry and head to the market. I need to grab some things I’ve run out of. I’ll probably even stop by the liquor store on my way home and replenish that stash. Because why not?
I slip into my truck and start the drive. The store I prefer is a couple miles away, so I head in that direction. My phone connects to the truck via Bluetooth, and a song I’ve never heard fills the speakers. I glance at the screen. Karly must’ve loaded some Taylor Swift songs into my library. I can’t help but smile. The memory of her singing at the top of her lungs in my passenger seat creeps into my mind. I quickly hit skip, and NSYNC comes on next. Growling, I flip it to the FM radio and pull into the parking lot next to a cart rack. Typically I wouldn’t choose to park here due to the statistics of someone dinging my truck, but the store is crowded. Way more crowded than I had anticipated.
I step into the cold, rushing inside the sliding doors. I grab a cart, one of the little miniature ones, to try and avoid filling it full of stress food and start walking the aisles. I turn around the end cap and immediately notice him. How could you not? The entire fucking female population is basically groveling at his feet.
Ashton Slade.
Being the douchebag he is, he holds up the bottle of wine in his hand, “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me. I have to meet someone special.”
He steps through the sea of women, his eyes falling on mine.
“I know you,” He states, tapping his jaw like he’s in deep thought. “That’s right. You are friends with my girlfriend.”
I want to lay his ass out right here in the middle of the grocery store. I seriously consider yanking that wine bottle out of his hand and smashing it over his head.
“Don’t you mean ex-girlfriend?” I enunciate the ex part, just to be sure this idiot understands.
“No?” He tilts his brows together, “I mean girlfriend. We never break up for long, and the media just likes to make it seem worse than it is.”
My mind begins to spin with scenarios that I know aren’t true. I remember how she acted when he was camped outside her apartment. Unless… I think back to the fact that she just came home from Nashville.
Suddenly I feel sick.
Was it that easy for her to just move on? Is Ashton the real reason that she doesn’t want to be with me?
I stand here staring at this fool like he’s a damn clown, “If you’re taking that wine to Karly, you should probably swap it out for Pinot Grigio.”
He glances down at the bottle, a smile breaking his features, “She likes the way Pinot tastes, but I like how this makes her act.”
He winks at me, and I swear I see black. I fucking hate this guy.
“What makes you think you know her better than me anyway?” He asks. “You poke your dick around her a couple times, and you think you got some kind of claim? Trust me, nobody has fucked her like I have.”
By now, people are starting to stare, wondering what the fuck is going on. The way he talks about her like she’s some sort of toy pisses me off.
“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s not some sort of disposable sex toy.”
He laughs, “Seems like I taught her pretty well, considering she’s got you on a short leash.”
I step closer to him, the toes of our shoes nearly touching. We’re about the same height, but I got at least twenty pounds on him. He surprises me by not backing away, though.
“Does she know you are coming over?”
He rolls his eyes, “Are you stupid? Of course, she does, and she just spent a whole week with me in Nashville.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to refrain from hitting him, “I don’t believe you.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket, opening his camera roll to a picture of them seated at a bar. I can tell it isn’t old because she’s wearing some earrings she got for her birthday that was over the summer. I remember Hanna talking about them.
He chuckles, “You aren’t special, man. You were just something to pass the time while I fucked girls on tour.”