Page 17 of At My Worst

Alexander is staring at me, and a small smile forms on his face. “Therapist, huh?” He asks.

I laugh. “Yes.”

“So, does that mean you are staying?” He asks in a hopeful voice.

I take a deep breath. “Maybe, I do not know yet.”

He nods and keeps smiling. The smile that makes me melt. He is like a book boyfriend coming to life before my eyes. The book boyfriend who is willing to dirty talk, be jealous, possessive, controlling, and dominant, the book boyfriend who has no issues bringing to life my fantasies or his.

Fuck me, this just doesn’t seem real.

I lower my arms and slowly stand up from the chair. I make my way over to the bed and place my hands down as I lean in. Alex follows my every move. “I will see you later,” I say.

He nods and grabs onto my throat, pulling me closer. “I want to take you on a date tonight to celebrate your new job,” he says calmly.

“Okay.”

“You like the movies?” He asks, watching me closely. He is always watching, being so observant.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I will pick you up at seven.”

Why does he make this all seem so fucking easy?

“What about the tavern?” I ask in a concerned voice.

“Josh can handle tonight,” he says with a smile.

“Okay.”

He leans in and gently connects his lips to mine, then just as fast, pulls back and releases his hold on my throat, making me groan.

“I’ll see you later, baby,” he says as I stand up.

I turn, grab my phone and shoes, and walk around his bed, stopping at his door. My heart is racing. I want to say something, but I don’t. Instead, I walk out and head down the hallway to the bar.

I have no idea what I am doing, but I have a feeling it is too late to turn back now.

It is just one date, one date. Nothing is going to happen from one date.

Right?

8

Alexander

“Guilty”by Bobi Andonov

Iwalk into the living room to find the floor covered in empty bottles of booze of every kind. Shaking my head, I make my way over to the couch, kneel in front of my father, and pull the blanket over his body. He has a fresh bruise underneath his right eye, so either he was drunk and fell and hit his face, or he got in another bar fight. I am sure that once I get back to the tavern, Josh will tell me if it was a bar fight again.

My pops hasn’t been the same since my mother died. He lost the love of his life, and in return, he lost himself, too. I can’t blame him for wanting to drown out the pain and the memories of my mom not being here anymore.

It is why I have taken over the tavern and everything else with the family business. I make sure the bills are paid, the doors stay open, and I always make sure that my pop keeps the house he bought with my mom. I know it would break him if he ever lostthis house. All of his memories with her are in this house, and I have to make sure he doesn’t lose them.

“I’m going out,” I whisper.

His breathing is steady, and I know he will sleep for a few more hours, but he’ll be back at the bar in time for happy hour.

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