Page 39 of How to Break My Heart
Fine. Don’t touch anything.
Little Brat
I’ll sleep on the couch. Wouldn’t want to catch cooties from all the women you screw in your bed.
Me
Anything else? You leave me here in this godforsaken town with nothing to do on a Sunday night. I’m starving.
Little Brat
Go to The Spice House. They serve the best tacos and margaritas. Plus it’s where all the single women hang in case you’re looking for a small-town romance.
Me
Small-town romance? You’re delusional. I’m more than happy to continue living my life as your single older brother.
Little Brat
Two words for you. Grumpy/sunshine.
Me
?
Madelina doesn’t respond, but my notifications alert me to someone entering my apartment. I click on the front door camera to watch Madelina removing her coat and knocking over a vase near the coat rack. The sound isn’t on, but judging by the way her mouth opens, she’s swearing at her clumsy mistake, staring at the glass scattered all over the marble tiles.
“Fuck my life,” I mumble.
I grab my keys, wallet, and phone, desperate to leave this place.
The drive into town is dark, and only a few lights can be seen from some ranches nearby. When I hit the main intersection, I turn left to drive down Butterscotch Boulevard. Unsurprisingly, all the shops are closed, the complete opposite of the city. How people don’t die from boredom in this town is beyond me.
The Spice House is well lit, which makes sense since it’s one of the few places that seem to be open. I park my car in the street, then make my way to the pub. Upon entering, I notice it’s bigger than I assumed. The place itself was a jam factory back when I was a kid. In junior high, the owners officially closed it down, and it remained abandoned for years. The brickwork still stands, and whoever owns it now has restored the building with a modern twist.
In the central area, the tables are occupied by families. A few kids are running around, much to my annoyance, but I ignore them and head straight to the bar.
The bartender serves me my bourbon of choice. Beside me, two women are eyeing me up and down. Great! The so-called small-town romance girls my sister informed me about. I press my lips together and take a slow breath to gather my patience.
“You’re not from around here,” the woman with the jet-black hair is quick to say when I take a seat.
I force a smile, but truthfully, I’m too drained to even think about fucking her or anyone else in this bar.
“I’m not” is all I answer.
“Fresh meat,” I hear her whisper to her friend before they giggle. “We have a competitor for the hot doctor.”
Hot doctor?Jesus Christ. The women in this town are clutching at whatever they can get their hands on. Despite wanting to take my mind off today, going home with these women seems more tiresome than exciting. I continue to sit, keeping to myself.
“Can you believe the hot doctor is here with Eva?” the other woman complains. “Her donuts aren’t even that great.”
My eyes widen at the mention of Everleigh’s nickname.Unknowingly, my hand has tightened around the glass of bourbon. I slowly raise it to my mouth, drinking the remnants in one go before slamming the glass on the bar, making the leftover ice rattle.
Then, I slowly turn and scan the room. It doesn’t take me long to find them huddled in a darker corner of the bar. Everleigh is laughing, and her doctor friend is sitting close, resting his hand on her thigh. It doesn’t help that she’s wearing a dress that appears too short from where I’m sitting.
My breathing increases like a drum banging inside the walls of my chest. Before I have a chance to calm myself the fuck down, my feet are moving toward where they sit.
Everleigh is telling some story, only to stop talking mid-sentence when her eyes lock onto mine. With her lips flattening, she pokes her tongue into her cheek and inhales a deep breath.
