Page 32 of The Final Straw

I stumble into the bathroom and splash water on my face, willing the exhaustion to subside. My reflection in the mirror stares back at me, a disheveled mess of tousled hair and sleep-ridden eyes. But there's a spark of determination in them, a glimmer of excitement at the prospect of what the night may hold.

I choose a simple yet stylish outfit—jeans, a fitted baby blue top, and a leather jacket, hoping to strike the perfect balance between casual and edgy.

Applying lipstick and running a brush through my hair, the anticipation of the night ahead builds within me like a gathering storm. Bre's insistence that I join her for a night out feels like a lifeline, a chance to escape my own mind and lose myself in the chaos that is Bre.

Before long, I'm ready to go. With one last glance in the mirror, I grab my phone and keys and leave my place.

I step into the dimly lit bar, and the familiar scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke washes over me, mingling with the lively chatter of the crowd. Bre is already here in a cozy corner booth, the worn vinyl seats welcoming me like old friends. We order drinks—something fruity for me, a beer for Bre—and settle in for the night.

“So tell me what’s new. I know nothing since you spent the night with the foxes.” Bre sips her beer with a shit-eating smirk on her face.

“I ended things with them,” I admit. “I won’t lie, it was going amazing. But they took me out to eat yesterday and we ran into Van.”

Bre’s eyes widen, and her mouth does the same. “No fucking way. What happened?”

“Grady rushed me out the back and Kipp paid the bill. They drove me home, and I broke it off. When I was in the car waiting for Kipp with Grady, guess who I saw coming into the restaurant… Barbi.”

“No!”

“Yeah. So they took me home, and I told them I needed space. Seeing Van and Barbi together showed me I’m not ready to be testing the waters with anyone yet. I’m still hurt.”

“Well, you did the right thing by being honest with them. You need some time to be single and rediscover yourself, to learn what it truly means to be happy without relying on a partner to fill the void.”

Her words resonate with me, echoing my own thoughts that have been swirling in my mind since seeing Van. She's right. Maybe I've been so focused on getting over Van that I've neglected the most important relationship of all—the one I have with myself.

The night draws to a close and as Bre and I stumble out of the bar, giggling like schoolgirls, a nagging thought creeps in. I should text the guys, tell them I'm sorry, and I’m just confused. But the words feel heavy in my mind, and Bre’s yelling pulls me from my thoughts.

“Your Uber is here, bitch!”

I find myself stumbling to my ride and then through the front door of my apartment, the world spinning slightly as I collapse onto the couch in a tipsy heap. The thought of reaching for my phone and sending a message to Van, asking him what that bitch has that I don’t, flickers briefly in my mind, but exhaustion washes over me like a tidal wave, pulling me under into a deep sleep.

Chapter 17

Kipp

Since we dropped Ollie off yesterday, she has consumed my thoughts.

That she’s not ready, she needs to think.

Maybe this is divine intervention stepping in, reminding us of our age, and the fact that Ollie is the same age as my daughter. Fuck, she could be our daughter. And here we are chasing after her like two dogs in heat. What the fuck is wrong with us? Why couldn’t we be this crazy about someone our own age?

“Hey, babe, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Grady’s deep voice pierces my ears, pulling me from my rambling thoughts.

His bare chest glistens under the lamp’s light, revealing his salt and pepper chest hairs. He’s perfect and every day I have with him is a gift, one that I’ll never take lightly.

“Nothing. Just thinking,” I lie. But not really. I just don’t want him to know I’m moping over Ollie.

“About Ollie?” My eyes snap up and immediately connect with his, creating an electric moment.

“How did you know? Was I that obvious?”

“Yes, and no. She’s all I can think about, too. All I want to do is get in the car, race back to her house and tell her she’s wrong. That she is ready and even if she isn’t, we can wait for her. That’s if you feel the same way.” He sits on the couch beside me, trailing his long slender fingers down the side of my face, before slipping them behind my head, pulling me to him. His lips crash down on mine, and I willingly part them, allowing his tongue to slip in, deepening our kiss.

When we finally pull apart, we’re breathing heavily. He slides his fingers through my hair as he gazes lovingly at me.

“She went from a relationship, one that Barbi ruined, to meeting us and ending up in our bed. That would be a lot for anyone to process. Pushing her to be with us when she’s not ready and still has feelings for someone else isn’t going to do any of us any good. She needs to be sure of what she feels.”

“But why can’t we show her that our feelings for her are true? That we can handle if she cares for someone else. It’s not like we weren’t together already and can handle knowing that both of us have more desire for her than just casual sex,” I argue.

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