Page 98 of Meet Me at the Metro

If there weren’t the physical barrier of the bartop between me and the backdoor, I’d probably find myself storming out of this place.

Deep down, I know I should allow her to explain herself, but right now, I’m too caught up in the familiar sting of infidelity to possibly listen. So quickly, I find old feelings bubbling up inside of me, and I can’t figure out how to subside them—how to get the unsettling twinge in my chest to disappear.

“Theo.” That sweet voice calls out for me again.

I’m too damn overwhelmed right now to give her a nice or proper response, so I do the smart thing—the self-controlled thing—and ignore her arse.

It’s for the best.

My two fellow bartenders’ concerned eyes follow me as I move to serve another waiting customer. “What do you want?”

“Two pints of Foster.”

“You got it,” I bite back.

I try to ignore the girl standing in my periphery as I snatch two glasses off a shelf behind me. They clank against one another harder than I intend for them to and slip from my fingertips. I wince as the glasses shatter against the sticky, beer-covered floor and scatter everywhere.

“Dammit.”

“Messy boy,” Daniel teases as he walks past carrying a bottle of gin, but I’m not in the mood for jokes tonight.

“That guy wants two Fosters,” I huff, bending down to clean up my mess.

My nerves must be so shot that I’m incapable of possessing common sense because I reach down to pick up the shards of glass with my bare hands, immediately regretting it when one of the pieces sears my skin.

Blood is dripping onto the floor before I can even take my next breath. “Shit,” I shakily exhale. There’s so much red. “Shit, shit, shit.”

I scramble to my feet, stealing a flannel from the counter beside me and quickly wrapping my hand until my eyes don’t see crimson anymore.

“I’ll b-be back,” I mumble to my coworkers, heading straight for the backdoor.

The musty air around me turns thick—too thick. It’s so heavy that it feels like it’s closing in on me.

It feels like I’m suffocating.

I push out of the backdoor with such force that it slams against the alley wall outside. I don’t have time to care about the commotion. I just need to get my head right and calm myself the fuck down.

I force myself to breathe in the cold, night air—force myself to fill my lungs with much-needed oxygen. My ears ring as I fall back against the cool brick, my eyes clenching shut as I fight to steer my thoughts to anything but that day.

I squeeze the cloth tightly against my hand, not giving a damn how badly the pressure stings so long as it stops the bleeding.

A gentle palm rests on my unscathed hand—so warm and needed—and immediately quells my shaking limbs. I don’t even need to open my eyes to know who’s standing before me.

“Can I see it?” Nora asks, so soft I find my racing heart calming.

“I–it’s fine. I’m fine. Just a little bit of blood. Just a little. I–I’m okay. I’m—”

“Teddy, let me see.” I open my eyes as she pulls my hand toward her, bundled in cloth, but she quickly redirects my gaze. “It’s a full moon tonight.Look.”

I do as she says, look up toward the vast, nearly black sky, and find the moon. I count the stars surrounding it as I try to calm my ragged breathing. It’s not until I feel the breeze against my fingertips that I notice Nora has unwrapped my hand and how thoughtfully she was distracting me.

I keep my eyes on the moon despite how badly I want to look at her.

“This is going to be cold,” she warns right before the rush of water rushes past my fingertips. A beat of silence passes between us as she inspects my wound. She draws back a breath. “You got yourself good.”

“Am I still bleeding?”

She presses the cloth back down and holds it there. “A little bit.”

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