51

In, out.

In, out.

These goddamn fucking potholes.

Colton was feeling so many things, but mostly anger. He’d call a gravel company tomorrow, Ruby and her mom couldn’t continue driving this fucking shitty ass driveway. He knew he should’ve told her about San Francisco far sooner than he had, he’d felt that in his bones, but if he had, she would never have given them a chance.

And that’s all he wanted.

Colton pulled over into the lot of the abandoned church a few roads down and screamed. He had never been good enough until he’d been great, and then he had lost it. And that mentality is exactly what landed him here, with the one thing he ever truly wanted.

His dad was right: he was never good enough. His coach was right: if he wasn’t careful, he’d scorch all of his greatest opportunities. His mom was right: if he tried too hard, he’d fail — and that would test if he could stand back up. Katie was right: if he stayed so far inside himself, he’d lose Ruby.

He’d done it all, every single thing they’d warned him about.

When he finally stopped screaming into the void and his hand hurt from hitting the steering wheel, Colton’s anger had turned into anguish. Grief. He blew his one chance with her, by trying not to blow it. And it was his own damn fault.

So he’d go to San Francisco. Getting as far away as possible from the one woman he ever loved was the only way he could move forward.

He sent a text to Dragan asking if he could come over, letting him know he’d had a night and could use a drink. Or a bottle.

The incoming text sent Colton back into overdrive. Who gave a fuck if it was nighttime and he was on back-country roads? He needed to feel the car swerving, dipping, as he drove into town. He needed to feel in control of something.

He plowed into Dragan’s short driveway, slamming the brakes and barely stopped before hitting the rear of Dragan’s used car. Leaving his coat in the car, Colton stomped his way up the stoop to the front door and rang the buzzer, which was immediately returned. It was just past dinnertime, and the sounds of laughing neighbors and the occasional barking dog followed him past the elevator and up the stairs.

Dragan lived on the top floor, his two-bedroom apartment occupying the right side while a second two-bedroom occupied the left. Everyone was right; it was past time for Colton to move out. To move on.

The door opened before he could knock, and he entered, shoving off his shoes and barely hearing Dragan over the heat rushing through his head.

“I could hear you a mile away man, you walk like an elephant,” Dragan said, walking through the expansive living area to the small kitchen on the far wall. He opened a cupboard, pulling down two tumblers, a bottle of tequila, and a bottle of whiskey.

“I prefer the term ox, but whatever.”

Dragan grunted in response, over-pouring both glasses and handing the one with tequila to Colton. His large friend clinked their glasses before moseying to the couch. Colton followed, grabbing both bottles as he went.

Once he was sitting, he didn’t want to move.

He settled into Dragan’s couch, a second-hand beat-up thing that wasn’t as uncomfortable as Colton always expected it to be. One of the great things about his friend was his silence. There was never any expectation of conversation, and rarely was there any judgement on what was said. So Colton pounded his drink while Dragan sipped his, both men staring into space while Colton settled down. Just because he could be angry didn’t mean he needed to be.

Dragan cleared his throat and re-poured both their drinks, and just as much. Another great thing about his best friend: he knew when it was time to get fucked up.

“I fucked things up with her.”

Dragan continued staring into space but nodded.

“I got the job in San Francisco and told her. But since I hid everything from her, she thought it was a bit dishonest.”

Dragan looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “A bit? This is Ruby we’re talking about, right? Nothing’s ever a bit with her.” He chuckled.

“Fair point.” Colton sipped his drink. “Do you think it was dishonest?”

“I definitely don’t think it was honest. I think any woman would feel a little used, but especially given your history with Ruby, I see why she’d be hurt.”

“Dude, she was pissed.”

“Pissed? I see why she’d want to cut your dick off and feed it to you. But Colt, I’ve found people either act out of fear or out of love — she’s probably scared. Weren’t you?”