“Sorry about your dad, man.” Brian leaned across the counter of the bar and awkwardly patted me on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing that shit, but I don’t know what else to say.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, breathing a sigh of relief when RJ brought me another drink and gave me his usual wink. At least someone was acting a little normal around me. Usually his little crush on me got on my nerves, but this time it didn’t. Shit, maybe I have had way too much to drink.
“You know Della’s working tonight, right?”
I shrugged my shoulders at Brian, picking up the menu that I knew like the back of my hand to distract myself. I hadn’t been in here since the summer because of that fact alone, but tonight, I just needed a drink, and what better place than Shorty’s? I worked here all throughout college; I wasn’t going to not come here because of Della. Or maybe I was just trying to torture myself? Probably the latter.
“Whatever, this place is big enough to avoid her, besides I doubt she’ll be overjoyed to see me. In fact, she’ll probably be trying to avoid me, too.”
Brian lifted his brows in response, but didn’t say anything or ask any questions, which was probably a good thing. Della was one of his favorite employees, probably because she brought a lot of business in. Who wouldn’t want to come here to eat while enjoying the view that her barely there work “uniform” gave? He would probably be pissed at me for how I treated her. Even though the day was tough on me, there was no excuse for it. But for now, I didn’t want to deal with that shit.
So, when someone slid into the seat next to me, it was a much-appreciated distraction. I just needed to forget for a little while, all of the shit that had happened in the past year or so. I needed to go back to being the old Justin Parker. The one who didn’t care about or love any girl. The one who used them, and moved on to the next.
That was exactly who I needed to be.
AFTER SCREAMING THE whole way back to the house, I thought I had finally gotten all of my anger and frustration out for the way Justin treated me. I knew he was going through a difficult time, and I knew that a funeral wasn’t exactly the best place for us to make up, or anything, but he had no right to treat me the way that he did.
He’s the one that was an ass to me. He’s the one who doomed our relationship from the very beginning by starting it based on a lie. He said he wanted something serious with me, but I think it had been based on guilt. Guilt for what he did with that girl right before coming to see me, acting like he only wanted to be with me.
Bullshit.
Who knew if the overwhelming amount of love that I felt for him, and still felt, was ever really truly requited? People that loved someone didn’t treat each other like that. Ever.
I slammed the front door behind myself, rushing to my bedroom to strip out of my dress and then slide into a pair of black shorts and the Shorty’s shirt that ended just above my ribs. I tossed my hair into a messy bun at the same time as I slid my feet into my shoes, and rushed back through the living room, grabbing my purse from the couch where I’d tossed it.
I should’ve had plenty of time to get ready before work but I didn’t come straight home after leaving the funeral home. Instead, I let myself have a mini tantrum after pulling off onto the side of the road. Yeah, I acted like a two-year old, cursing Justin and everything about him, stupid, sexy asshole that he was. The anger that bubbled up in my chest was almost unrecognizable. Justin seemed to be one of the only people to get me so worked up, but this was a whole new level.
By the time I arrived at Shorty’s, a little bit of the tension from the day had lifted, but not much. Once I walked through the front entrance, all of it immediately recoiled back into my body, making it feel like I was run over by a car multiple times, and all I wanted to do was go straight back out the door.
This had to be a freaking dream—more like a nightmare, really. I took one step forward, squinting my eyes to confirm that what I was seeing was real. I saw RJ smirking behind the bar, which was enough confirmation. That man hated me for whatever reason. Maybe because he saw me as competition for Justin or something, though I doubt he would ever swing that way.
My head snapped back to what, or should I say whom, RJ was smirking at, and I bit down hard on my trembling lip, trying to stop myself from breaking down. There was Justin, still dressed in the fitted, black dress pants from the funeral, but his white collared shirt was rolled at the sleeves, showing off his tattooed covered arm. His head was covered by the beanie he often wore, pulled down low, but those smoky eyes were still visible.