Page 1 of Only The Strong

PROLOGUE

REESE

This is my chance,he is happily drunk and in a great mood, and I've had just enough screwdrivers to give me the courage I sodesperatelyneed to be this vulnerable.

“Noah, can I ask you something?” I stare at the floor; I can't look him in the eyes.

“Of course, babe.” He's holding onto the door frame of the closet while trying to slip off his shoes.

“Why aren't I good enough?” It comes out so softly I’m not sure if he heard me.

“Oh, Reese.” He stops with one shoe in his hand and finally looks at me. “Please don’t think this has anything to do with you. I just wasn't ready for a relationship when we met. This is all on me, babe.” He drops the shoe and steps over to kneel in front of me where I sit on the edge of the bed.

“How can you say that though? You were comparing our sex with your ex. You told her she felt so much better riding your dick. Why would you do this to me?” All of the questions that have been swimming through my head for the last few days come out in a rush. With tears slowly falling down my face I finally look Noah in the eyes, he doesn't have answers there. He looks down to the floor, avoiding my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Reese,” he whispers.

REESE

NINE MONTHS LATER

Girl’s nightwas starting to become more about my friends trying to find their next boyfriend and less about actually hanging out with the girls. Except for me, I was still gun-shy. Regardless, the rules were still very strict: dress like you’re going to meet the love of your life. Tonight I curled my long natural copper hair and applied my makeup slightly darker than usual, but not too dramatic. Despite the warm March spring weather in Washington, the rain we had this week has cooled the mountains off considerably. I wonder if the girls would approve of me wearing sweats to the bar, probably not. I choose a black oversized band tee that hits a little below my butt, with a black long-sleeved turtle neck underneath and black thigh-high boots with a chunky heel. No doubt the others would be in skin-tight short dresses or lingerie that they claimed doubled as a top, whereas my curves were hidden under my shirt. Don’t get me wrong, I would have been dressed the same a year ago, but ever since Noah, I just haven’t had the urge to meet anyone. I’ll meet someone when the time is right, it's just not right now.

The drive through The District is short, and I watch the groups of people walking to the restaurants for dinner or the bars for happy hour. Some college students walk into the local bookstore and others are starting games of giant Janga or Cornhole in the outdoor bar, Yardies.

After a short trip in an Uber, we all step into our favorite bar in The District, Mickey’s, it is one of the biggest clubs in Merrill Hill’s downtown strip of bars and restaurants. The main room is dark, only lit with tv screens showing music videos and dance lights, and neon signs hanging on the walls. There are several tables with chairs around them, a long U-shaped bar, and the dance floor to the left of the bar. A door in the back corner leads outside to a patio with tall lights, a fire pit, and chairs, then a set of outdoor stairs goes up to the rooftop bar. The rooftop is a lot quieter with just a few speakers, a couple of tables and chairs, and a small bar; this is usually where I retreat to once my girls have paired off for the night. There's just something about standing up here staring off into the night sky and the mountains. Sophie, Emma, and I are sitting around a table while Allie grabs us the first round.

Sophie scans the room, her hazel eyes bouncing between people, guys probably. “How’s your first year of law school, Allie?”

“Brutal.” Allie sighs, passing around our drinks. “Are you and the doctor still boning?”

Sophie takes a sip of her cocktail. “Dentist.” She corrects. “And no, I called it off when he started showing up at the salon and my house unannounced.”

“That’s fucking creepy! Do you need me to connect you with a judge? I know a great one that can grant you a restraining order.” Emma suggests, pushing her dark curls behind her ear.

Allie scrolls through her phone. “I know some guys from The Outlaws that owe me a favor. They could talk to him.”

Emma’s dark eyes turn to saucers, and she leans forward to speak directly to Allie. “What, like take him out? What the hell, Allie? You’re in law school. What are you doing tangled up with those thugs?”

“I helped out on a case for them. They were really nice and not what you think.” Allie shakes her head, her blonde hair fanning over her shoulders, waving her off.

“No, babe. I took care of it. He hasn’t bothered me since I broke it off.” Sophie squeezes Emma's hand while laughing at Allie.

“Anyways, speaking of judges, what was the verdict yesterday, Em?” I ask, looking at her across the table.

“Custody was given back to the parents. I helped move the kids back home after court.” Emma smiles, leaving behind the conversation of gangs and criminals.

I take a drink. “That’s great. I know that’s what you were hoping for.”

“Yeah, the dad got a new job, and they've caught up on all of their bills. These parents deserve their kids, they just fell on hard times and needed some help.” Emma loves being a social worker, so much so that sometimes she invests too much into her cases and comes out almost as devastated as the families and kids she's fighting for.

“Celebratory drinks all around then,” Allie yells, leaping up to head back to the bar.

After more chit-chat and another round of drinks, Emma and Allie have left us and found the guys they’re going home with for the night. Sophie and I relocate to the fire pit outside and continue to talk about our jobs, families, and anything in between.

“Today was pretty draining, I think I’m gonna head out. Wanna share an Uber?” Sophie tosses her plastic cup into the big trash can by our wooden chairs.

I lean my head against the back of the chair to look up at her. “You didn’t call Logan?”

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