Page 75 of Myself

I sit at a round booth back in the corner of a bar. Ryder sits across from me with one hand on his phone and the other wrapped around his fifth glass of whiskey. He hasn’t said much and hasn’t mentioned anything about Ashlyn, but he’s drinking like he’s on a mission to forget. He’s drinking like a man who is hurt and trying to numb the pain.

I lift my drink and take a sip as I pull my phone out of my pocket. I check it and sigh when I see I have no recent texts or calls. I figured I would hear from Becca. She must be busy with Ashlyn.

“So what have you been up to?” he finally asks me. “Kelly asked about you the other day.” He laughs as if that was funny somehow. “Was asking questions about you. You were right. Good thing you never hit that.” He lifts his drink and swallows a good amount.

My phone slips out of my hand at his question and lands on the table. “Oh, what did she have to say?” I ask as if I’m truly curious. I’m not.

He sits back in his seat. “Just that she heard you were seeing someone and asked if I knew who it was.”

The back of my neck starts to sweat. “No.” I scratch my head. “Not sure who she would hear that from.” That’s not good. But expected. Everyone seems to know now but Ryder.

He waves his hand in the air. “You know how women are. They make up shit in order to get what they want.” I frown at his words since they make no sense.

“What does that mean?” I ask, wanting him to clear that up for me.

He waves his glass in the air. “You know. She probably just wanted to know if you were available and chose to make it up that you were seeing someone in order for me to say, no, he’s not.”

“Is that what you said?”

“Of course.” He snorts. “If you were, I’d know about it.” He checks his phone again as if he’s waiting for a call. I hope he’s waiting to talk to Ashlyn and not some woman he plans to hook up with tonight. He takes a swig. “Plus, you’re the smart one.”

“Smart one?”

He nods. “Between the two of us. You’re the one who just wants to fuck them.” He tosses back his drink. He’s not making any sense, considering he too just fucks them. “I’m the one who goes and falls in love.” He goes to take another drink but frowns when he finds it empty.

I hate to see him like this. So upset. I have to play like I don’t know what he’s talking about. So I say, “You’re falling in love with Ashlyn?”

He sighs. “Wasn’t that obvious?”

I look up at his eyes, and they’re heavy, and his head keeps bobbing around as if it’s too heavy to hold up. He’s feeling pretty good. “Yes, but you never came out and said it.”

He starts to laugh. “Thank God for that. I’d like to keep a little dignity,” he slurs.

“How is Ashlyn?” I have to ask, and I hate how he flinches at the mention of her name. I was once there as well, but it was by his sister. And what sucked worse was that I couldn’t talk to him about it. Mainly why I just fucked women.

He lifts his empty glass as if a waitress is gonna see he needs a refill. She’s not. It’s not that type of bar. “We broke up,” he replies flatly, his humor now gone.

“Oh?” I raise a brow in surprise. “What happened?”

He slams his empty glass on the table. “She was seeing someone else.”

I have to tread lightly here. I don’t want to go against Becca. No matter how much Ryder’s relationship is on the line. I’ve always been known to be a little selfish. For four years, I’ve wanted Becca, and now that I finally have her, I’m not going to let Ryder’s stupidity and pride get the best of my relationship. So I pick my words carefully. “I don’t see her doing that—”

I caught them,” he growls, interrupting me.

“Ryder ...”

He leans up and places his forearms on the table. “I walked in on them. Not long before I had called you.”

“Doing what?” I ask ‘cause I may not have seen what he saw, but I know for a fact that Ashlyn was in her bedroom and Bradley was already in the kitchen. So it’s not like he caught them in bed together, fucking.

“Well, I walked in on him standing in the kitchen with Becca. I thought at first he was sleeping with her.” My jaw clenches at the thought. “Then she walked out, dressed in a t-shirt and calling him babe.” He spits out the word. “So it’s over.”

I toss back my drink and lick my lips. As I watch the way his fist clenches his glass, I realize just how much he is hurting. Just how much he feels for her. I have to tell him something. “Ryder, about him ...”

“I mean I was stupid,” he says, shaking his head. “You know I thought she was the one.”

My chest tightens at his words. “Call her,” I tell him. “Call her and talk to

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