Page 122 of The Lies I've Told
“It was an accident,” I said.
With his eyes still on my hand, he let out a huff of air. “Look, so you banged up your hand. A hazard of the job, right? Take some time off. Go travel, and get inspired. Meet someone. Hell, meet several someones, and then come back and see how you feel.”
I didn’t need to meet anyone.
I’d already met the one.
And I’d let her go.
Every moment since had felt like a fucking struggle to breathe. Like a tiny thread had come loose in my heart when I walked away from her, and every step I took tugged harder and harder, tearing open that seam until my chest was ripped wide open, and everything was hanging open to the elements.
I’d lied to her.
Her eyes, the utter betrayal in those blue irises when I’d used her own insecurities over her affair with her former boss and said she was nothing more than a distraction?
I’d never forgive myself for that.
I’d made a mockery of our love, and for that, I didn’t deserve anything from this world.
“No,” I finally answered, “I can’t.”
He watched me stand, and I began to walk out the door before he called out to me. “Listen, Aiden, I say this as a friend and not a man trying to make another buck or two off of you. Don’t give up on your talent. I’ve seen a lot of carvers come by my door, but you, you’re the real deal.”
I let out a sad sort of laugh. “You should have met my brother,” I said. “He was the real talent. I just had the drive and a great deal of patience, which I happened to learn from him as well.”
“Sometimes, that’s what matters most of all,” he said before pausing. “Good luck, Aiden, wherever the road takes you.”
Luck? Luck and I had never been fast friends.
No, wherever I was headed…I just hoped they had a decent supply of whiskey.
“James, where the hell are you? This is the third message I’ve left for you today. Your office said you took a personal day. Since when do you need personal time? I thought workaholics didn’t do shit like that.”
I knew I was rambling as I walked into my apartment building, giving a short nod to the doorman, but it was odd for my brother to just up and leave his office. He ran that place like a well-oiled machine, and the last time I remembered him taking a day off was…well, never.
“For a man who wanted to start treating me right away, you’re sure tough to find. Not that any of it is going to help. Well, except maybe this fine bottle of whiskey I just bought. You know where to find me. Or don’t. I don’t really fucking care anymore.”
I was going to go bury myself under a rock and practice the art of drinking myself to death. I pressed the button to the elevator, and it sprang open right away.
“Oh,” I said, remembering one more thing before I ended the call. “Stop sneaking into my apartment when I’m not there. I don’t need your food. I’m not a bloody charity case. I can take care of myself.”
I hit End on my phone and let out a sigh.
I should have never given him that key. It was like having a mother hen on my back twenty-four/seven, and now that I was crippled and half-blind, I knew I’d never be rid of him.
I knew he meant well.
I knew he cared, but right now, I was disgusted with everyone, but mostly myself, and the only companionship I could stand was the bottle currently taking up occupancy in my hand.
Stepping off the elevator on my floor, I walked the short distance to my apartment and slipped my key in the lock. It was midday, and I was met with rays of sunbeams shining through my windows, lighting up my otherwise dreary apartment.
Placing my beloved bottle on the kitchen counter, it took me a moment to notice the stone bird lying there beside it.
But it wasn’t the stone bird I was used to seeing.
It was the one I’d hidden away so very long ago.
The one I’d given up on when Ben died. My fingers fell to the raw, unfinished edges, a lump in my throat as I picked it up.
