Page 90 of The Girl I Once Loved

Noah steps in closer, his fingers grazing my cheek, his touch gentle and filled with longing. "I'll wait," he promises again, like he has been over and over again since the truth came out. His voice is a solemn vow. "I'll wait as long as it takes, Sky. Just know that I love you, and I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."

The tears flow freely now, mingling with the unspoken pain and the flicker of hope that dares to ignite within me. As I gaze into Noah's eyes, I see the love and remorse that mirrors my own emotions.

As the night stretches on, Noah holds me close, knowing that the road to healing will be a long and treacherous one. But in this moment, with his arms wrapped around me and his heartbeat echoing in my ears, I allow myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, there might be a sliver of a chance that we can find our way back to each other.

* * *

Healing comes in phases, it seems. And tonight, healing has come in the form of getting shit-faced drunk at this bar.

The bar is a dimly lit haven tucked away in a quiet corner of the town. The soft murmur of voices and the clinking of glasses create a soothing backdrop when I enter, needing to seek some kind of solace in the warm embrace of anonymity. I settle onto a vacant stool at the worn wooden bar, its surface etched with years of tales untold, and beckon to the bartender.

She appears, her eyes curious yet welcoming, as she places a coaster before me and leans in to listen to my order. "What can I get you?" she asks, her voice carrying a hint of familiarity, as though she could tell I was a newcomer.

"Just a whiskey," I reply, the words slipping from my lips as easily as the tears that had threatened to spill earlier.

The bartender pours the amber liquid into a glass, and I watch as it swirls, the refracted light dancing through it like memories long past. She slides the drink toward me, her eyes assessing, and says, "I haven't seen you around here before. New in town?"

“Not really,” I murmur, not bothering to explain. I had never frequented the bars in my time in Thatcher’s Bay due to being underage…and a shy little mouse. So Iwouldbe new in this place. And I like that.

I take a sip of the whiskey. And then another. It burns as it goes down, a welcome distraction from the ache that seems to have become a permanent fixture within my chest.

I signal to the bartender for another drink, my voice barely above a whisper as I order another round. She nods in understanding, her experienced eyes catching the glint of sorrow in mine. She pours a generous amount of amber liquid into a glass, sliding it toward me with a sympathetic smile.

As the evening wears on, the world around me starts to blur, the edges of my vision softening by the alcohol coursing through my veins. The room sways gently, and I can't help but lose myself in the comforting numbness it brings.

A stranger sidles up to me, his intentions clear in his eyes as he leans in a little too close for comfort. His words slur together as he tries to strike up a conversation.

"Hey there, beautiful," he mumbles, his alcohol-laden breath washing over me.

I squint at him. He looks like he’s in his late thirties, his disheveled hair slicked back in an attempt to appear more put together than he actually is. His unbuttoned shirt reveals a glimpse of a faded tattoo on his chest, and his scruffy beard is peppered with gray hairs. The dim lighting masks the wear and tear on his face, but his eyes bear the weight of years of regret.

As he leans in, there is a moment—a fleeting, desperate thought. A thought that maybe I could drown my sorrows in the arms of a stranger, if only for a night. It’s a tempting escape from the chaos that has become my life, an opportunity to momentarily forget the pain that has gripped my heart for far too long.

But as quickly as the thought emerges, I push it away. I can't do it. I can't lose myself in someone else when I’m still hopelessly obsessed with another man. It’s a mistake I’ve been making for seven years.

And it hasn’t gotten me anywhere.

The stranger's hopeful eyes meet mine, but I can see the emptiness hidden beneath his desire. I shake my head and turn away, choosing to face the relentless loneliness rather than trade it for something even more hollow.

I turn to face him, my gaze unfocused but firm. "Go away. I'm taken. By an asshole," I spit, my words tinged with bitterness.

The stranger seems taken aback, his confidence momentarily shaken. He hesitates before shuffling away, leaving me to my thoughts and my ever-persistent solitude.

"You seem like you've got a lot on your mind," the bartender observes, coming to stand in front of me. Her gaze is steady and compassionate.

I can’t help myself. The words spill forth, unburdening the weight I've carried for far too long. "It's because of him, you know. The love of my life."

Her brows furrow slightly, as though sensing the turmoil in my voice. "Tell me about it," she encourages.

I down the rest of my drink in one go, feeling the warmth and the truth surge within me. "He pushed me away," I say, my words slurred by the alcohol and the emotions that threaten to choke me. "Said it was for my own good, so I could go to school and be fucking happy, whatever that is."

The bartender nods, her expression sympathetic, and refills my glass. "Sounds like he cared about you a lot."

I scoff, bitterness seeping into my words. "I hate him," I declare, my voice trembling with anger and pain. "He let me go, let me live out my dream, but I would have stayed. I would’ve done anything for him."

She leans in closer, her eyes unwavering as they meet mine. "Seems to me he might have gotten the raw end of the deal. You’re out there in the big world…he’s left home pining over you," she suggests softly. "Sometimes, people make sacrifices because they believe it's the right thing to do, even if it tears them apart inside."

I shake my head, the tears I'd held back for too long now escaping, tracing salty trails down my cheeks. "It doesn't matter," I whisper, the words choked by the sobs that wrack my body. "I can't go back. It's too late."

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