Page 31 of Tank
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Tank
Dya’s words played over and over in my head for a whole week. That week seemed to have been the worst so far.
Three days ago my mom stopped trying to call me. She had called every day since I’d taken off. She’d left a message every fucking day because I never answered—I never picked up. The one person that I loved as much as I’d loved my son, and I was treating her like shit. It was the last thread. Even though I never answered, it was a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone. The last hold that I had on this world. And now it was gone. The silence from it was crippling and the last little part of my heart broke. She’d given up on me and now there was no reason for me not to give up on myself. It felt like it was the final nail in the coffin.
One last night, I told myself. One last farewell to the world before I ended my perch on the edge. There would be no goodbyes. No second guessing. No more hope.
I drove my truck down the mountain, the destination cemented in my mind this time. Why, though? I had no idea.
The bar came into view much quicker than I was ready for. I’d showered earlier, though, it was hard to tell because my clothes were wrinkled and my hair was still long and hung in my face. My beard was still unkempt. The only thing the shower did was made me smell a little better.
I parked and without hesitation, got out of my truck. I opened the door and was unsurprised to see Dya behind the bar.
All of a sudden my heart pounded in my chest. My sureness halted as I took my seat at the bar top. I walked out of the house a ready man. Ready to let go. Ready to give myself over to the darkness. But as her eyes slowly slid in my direction, I started to question everything.
I couldn’t say it was because of her warm look and bright smile, because none of that was there. No, her look was almost cold as her eyes met mine. Indifferent to say the least. But there was something more behind it like she was trying her best to close herself off and I wanted to know what the hell was going on in her head. I shouldn’t have. She was the last thing I should have been thinking and wondering about.
Without words, no surprise there, she pulled the bottle off of the shelf and poured my drink. Her hand remained on the glass as she stared into my eyes. Something about her gaze made me want to slink back. It drove me crazy. It was like she was reaching into my soul and seeing everything. My ugly. My sad. Every broken and fractured part of me. And yet, she had no reaction to it all.
I cleared my throat, not sure why.
“You showered,” she said in a flat tone. But the left corner of her lip twitched the slightest bit. If I had blinked I would have missed it. I gave her a firm nod. “Good. Then maybe you won’t stink up my sheets this time.” Her brow raised, and before I could say anything in response, she turned and sauntered off.
I bit back a smile. It was strange and confusing. It was like she expected the same outcome as the two weeks prior. I honestly hadn’t thought of that when I drove down here. But then again, I had come here for one reason, to drink away everything. And in doing that, I knew I wouldn’t be driving anywhere. So maybe in the back of my fucked up brain, I knew I’d end up safely passed out in her bed. I would go as far as to say that I even hoped.
I tossed back my drink, her form becoming distorted as the glass covered my vision. But I didn’t take my eyes off of her. For just a few moments, I didn’t think about my life. I didn’t think about what I’d lost. Or what I’d failed at. Or even what was to come next. I put a long pause on the sadness that clenched my heart as I sat there and admired the beauty in front of me. The dark angel that had completely wrecked my mind.
And this time when her words played again in my head, I wondered if I’d gotten it all wrong.
I sat there for a long time, empty glass still in my hand on the top of the bar. The bottle she’d left, sitting a few inches away. I watched her. Her interactions with everyone else and I notice that she didn’t smile or joke around. She stayed long enough to say a few casual words as she readied drinks, but never lingered. A few times, she pulled out her phone and appeared to send off a text. That was the only time I saw the slightest bit of emotion on her face. As she read whatever it was, her face softened and her lips lost their tightness.
My mind drifted to who it might be on the other end of that conversation. A friend? A sibling? A lover? As I thought about that last one, something in my gut tightened. Her space upstairs was obviously all her. There wasn’t an inkling that someone else lived there. Hell, there was hardly any hints thatshelived there.
She pulled out her phone again, her fingers typed with ferocious speed across the screen. After she was done she slid her phone back into her back pocket. Her eyes moved over to me and her casual stance against the counter straightened. She looked from me to the glass then to the bottle. Her head cocked in the cutest way like she was surprised that I hadn’t poured another glass. Damned if I wasn’t surprised, too.
Her feet took hesitant steps towards me and I took in everything about her. The shirt she had on was old and warn, the logo half faded off. The sleeves were cut off and the sides shredded and tied together. The neck had been cut out just low enough to give a hint at her deep cleavage. Her jeans were tight and the black looked more like a dark gray. There were holes on the knees, but it looked natural from wear.
I subconsciously found myself wetting my bottom lip. It had to have been nerves. Something about her set me on edge, but I wasn’t sure if it was in a good way or a bad one. The movement wasn’t lost on her. In fact, her gaze shot to my mouth and lingered there for a long beat. As if she realized she was staring, her eyes shot back up to mine.
Once she was close enough, she grabbed the bottle, only lifting it enough to dangle over the bar top. The vary same hand that I’d patched up a week before was holding the thing I thought I wanted the most. But all I could do was think about how soft her skin had been under my fingers. And how, for just a moment, she had been affected by me. I’d spent too much time trying to push all of that away. I blamed it on the fact that maybe I was a tad lonely, and she was the only thing I really had any contact with.
“Tell me something,” she rasped out in a harsh whisper and I wondered if her throat was as dry as mine. I cleared my throat, trying to find my voice.
“You captivate me,” I whispered.
The words shocked the fuck out of me. And by the flash in her eyes, it did her as well. She clenched her jaw, reigning in her state of astonishment at my words. I wanted to take it back. But it was out there, hanging thick in the air between us.
“No,” was all she said in reply as she poured me another glass and walked off.
Shit.
Fuck!
I was kicking myself while feeling completely confused. There was no way I was trying to hit on her, even if it sounded a bit like I was. It seemed like I couldn’t filter my thoughts around her. Damn, I had no idea that I felt that way.
I downed my drink and hesitated on pouring another. Instead, I closed my eyes and let the images flood in. Logan’s birth. The day he started to crawl. The day he took his first steps. The way his face lit up as he took shaky steps towards me and the giggle that escaped him when he crashed into my arms. It was only three steps, but I was so damn proud. I remembered how it felt like it was yesterday. How I wrapped my arms around him and breathed in his scent, all the while telling him how great he had done.
