Page 16 of Fight for Me
I’m a liar because I never moved on from her. How could I? My losing her wasn’t how it was meant to be. That future was taken from me, ripped out of my hands without any warning.
Now, I’ve tasted her again, and I crave more.
I’m a bastard because I’ll still walk away in six months without a pause.
Milo nods and then twirls the liquid in his glass. “I don’t judge you, you know? I was no better chasing after a woman I didn’t deserve.”
“And you do now?”
He laughs, gets to his feet, and slaps me on the back. “Not in the slightest. My wife is a million times better than I am. I’m just not stupid enough to let her go. Speaking of her, I have to get back to the hotel. Think about what I said and figure out if you’re going to continue being a bloody idiot or finally get your head out of your arse.”
Milo walks out of the bar, leaving me alone with a half-drunken bottle of scotch. My head is a mess, and it has been since she walked away from me that morning. If he only knew the truth about why I gave her up all those years ago, he’d understand.
The only difference between then and now is that there isn’t a big secret any longer. The truth was exposed, and I could tell Sydney, and I would if I thought it would matter.
But then I wonder how I could really confess it.
I still grapple with the guilt of it all. If she knew maybe we could be friends again. Maybe she would see that my leaving was for her.
Why couldn’t I tell Sydney and let the chips fall?
Before I go too far into that line of thinking, I remember why I won’t ever pick up the chips to begin with. Because it isn’t just about me. There are three other people who also hold the secret. If Sydney knew, would she forgive me? Would she accept that we did what we thought was right?
No, she will never understand the choice I made. She would’ve stayed on the side of the road that night, consequences be damned. She wouldn’t have run, hid the truth, and then cut all ties with anyone who mattered to her.
No, that was me, and the path I took eight years ago hasn’t changed that.
* * *
I’m driving on Route 80, passing the smaller towns in New Jersey as I make my way to Pennsylvania. I already hate every goddamn second of this. I’m going to miss New York City. The city has embedded itself inside of me. Each day, I became less country, and it gave me my true feeling of home. The smells of pretzels and trash, the sounds of horns honking, people yelling, and trains passing by are normal and what filled me when I was empty.
Now, I’m leaving it, and it feels ... weird.
Six months is all I have to endure, and then I can go back to where I feel at ease.
My phone rings, and I swipe the button over to answer Connor’s call. “Hello, Jackass,” I say with a smirk.
“Nice greeting.”
“What can I say? I call it like I see it.”
He snorts. “What time are you coming in? Your ... trailer-house-thing is all set up.”
I regret making that offer more than I can say. However, last thing I want is to be stuck in that fucking house with my brother and his family. I don’t need a daily reminder of what I could’ve had. I do enough self-loathing in my sleep. Still, now I’m in this “luxury tiny house,” which I know I’m going to want to burn to the ground after a week.
“Did you go inside?”
“Of course I did. Now Hadley wants one, thanks for that.”
I grin. “You should get the girl whatever she wants.”
“Right, because even if I say no, it’s not like her uncles won’t go behind my back.”
“Please, we all have years to make up for, and it’s not like the three of us are in a hurry to start a family.”
Connor snorts. “Yeah, you’d need to find a girl willing to put up with your shit.” Then he drops his voice to a near whisper. “Or forgive you for being a total fucking prick.”
“What was that?”
