Page 9 of Fractured Faceoff

I tried to play it cool. When he hadn't proposed after all these years, I brushed it off, pretending it didn't matter.

But deep down, it did.

I wanted to get married, to build a future together. I wanted the whole damn fairy tale. But now that dream lay shattered at my feet, replaced by a nightmare.

No. I wasn't going to think like that.

I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts, searching for something—someone—to anchor me. Autumn Parker. My best friend when I first moved out here. We lost touch after she got involved with a hockey player and I met Brody.

My fingers hovered over her name before I finally typed out a message:I know we haven't seen each other, but I've had the shittiest day. The Pour House? It's on me.

I held my breath as I hit send and set my phone down on the passenger seat. Autumn was probably busy or maybe she didn't even remember me anymore. The thought stung more than I'd like to admit.

Seconds felt like hours as I waited for a response. My mind raced with doubts and insecurities, each one more painful than the last.

A chirp cut through the silence. My heart leaped into my throat as I snatched up my phone.

Hell yes,readAutumn's reply.

Relief washed over me in a wave so powerful it almost knocked me back. She remembered. She cared.

I let out a shaky breath and started the car again, setting course forThe Pour House. As I drove, memories of my early days in this city flooded back—days when Autumn and I were inseparable, taking on the world together one adventure at a time.

The bar came into view, its neon sign flickering like a beacon in the night. Parking outside, I took a moment to compose myself before stepping out of the car. The cool evening air wrapped around me like an old friend as I walked towards the entrance.

Tonight wouldn't fix everything, but it was a start. And right now, that was enough.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, scanning the room for Autumn's familiar face. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the worn wooden tables and mismatched chairs. Old band posters adorned the walls, their edges curling from years of neglect. The bar itself was a hodgepodge of different eras—vintage neon signs advertising long-forgotten brands hung alongside modern craft beer taps.

I found an empty table near the back, away from the noise of the bustling crowd. The chatter of patrons and clinking of glasses created a comforting background hum, a welcome distraction from my spiraling thoughts. I slid into the booth, my fingers tracing the carved initials and hearts etched into the table's surface by countless past visitors.

I glanced around, taking in the scene. A group of friends laughed loudly at the bar, their faces flushed with alcohol and good cheer. A couple leaned in close, lost in their own world. It felt surreal to watch life go on so normally while mine had just been blown apart.

A waitress with tired eyes and a stained apron approached, asking if I wanted anything to drink. I ordered a whiskey neat, hoping it would steady my nerves.

As I waited for Autumn, I tried to lose myself in the atmosphere. The jukebox in the corner played a mix of classic rock and modern hits, each song blending into the next seamlessly. The scent of grilled burgers wafted over from the kitchen, mingling with the tangy aroma of beer.

I sipped my whiskey slowly, feeling its warmth spread through me like a small, flickering fire. I didn't know what I'd say to Autumn when she arrived or how much I'd share about what had happened with Brody. But just knowing she was on her way provided some comfort.

A sudden burst of laughter drew my attention to the entrance. There she was—Autumn Parker. Her auburn hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the light in fiery hues. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, giving her an almost youthful appearance despite the confident way she carried herself. She wore a leather jacket over a simple white tee and ripped jeans—a casual chic look with an edge that suited her perfectly.

She spotted me and broke into a grin, crossing the room with long strides before dropping down into the seat across from me.

"You look like you could use this," she said, sliding a shot of tequila towards me.

I let out a laugh—a real one this time—and clinked my glass against hers.

"Thanks for coming," I managed to say, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders.

"For you? Always."

Autumn and I clinked our glasses again, and I downed the shot of tequila. The burn startedin my throat, spreading a fiery warmth through my chest and down to my stomach. It was like swallowing liquid courage, but it didn't dull the ache in my heart.

"What happened?" Autumn asked, her eyes searching mine.

"Brody cheated on me," I said, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "With Kristen." I made a face, the memory of their tangled limbs still fresh in my mind.

"His co-host?" Her eyes widened. "I knew it. I knew co-anchors weren't supposed to look at each other that way."

---