Jayden’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times. As he shook his head, he said, “I didn’t. Haven’t.”
My brows shot up, and whatever he could read on my face hardened his own expression.
“You know what? Fuck you,Gale. You fucking started this. What, you couldn’t handle me kissing you a year back, so freaked the fuck out and decided to treat me like shit, and all because I got your dick hard?” He sneered and shook his head. “All the fucking time since the day we met you’ve talked about integrity and honesty. As soon as it doesn’t suit you, you’re so fucking quick to judge and turn the other cheek. This, all this… is on you.”
As if the wind had been completely knocked out of his sails after sharing his cutting words, sadness shadowed his expression. His shoulders slumped, his eyes became watery, and he swallowed hard.
“How about you do whatever you want? Deal with this how you decide. This past year’s already been a shit show because you chose to handle things by yourself rather than opening up to me. I don’t see how this is any different, not if you’re asking me to lie.”
He strode toward the door while I stood rooted at the spot, gut churning and heart aching. Before he pulled the door open, he glanced at me. Sorrow and hurt contorted his features. Pain slammed into me at the look he shot my way.
“Whatever you decide, I’ll do. You need me to take one for the team? I will.” He shrugged, raking his watery gaze over me one last time before he turned his back on me and left.
The silence in the room was deafening. Thick with anger and sadness, the air seemed too thick to inhale.
What the fuck had I done?
CHAPTER19
JAYDEN
A bitingrage nipped at my heels the further I walked away. I embraced the chase of anger, much preferring it to the agony that ripped through me.
Fifteen minutes ago I’d been baring my soul to Mark, all but gushing about Sutton, how my feelings for the man had first grown, my initial confusion realizing what we had was so much more than I’d ever envisioned.
What a clusterfuck.
“Whoa.”
I all but smashed into Pearce. If he hadn’t grabbed on to my arm, we both would have been flattened.
“Where’s the fire?” The smile on his face slipped a moment later when I didn’t shoot back with a wiseass remark. “Man, you okay?”
“Sure.” I nodded and avoided eye contact. The last person I wanted to see was Pearce, not after the fight Sutton and I just had.
“You don’t look okay.” His gaze searched mine, but I couldn’t be here right now.
“All good. I just have to be somewhere.” I stepped around him. “I’ll catch you later.” Then I was out of there.
There wasn’t a chance I could go back to my room. The one I shared with my— I caught the thought, cutting it off abruptly. What I needed was a bar.
I patted my pocket, relieved I’d shoved my wallet in there this morning, and made my way to the exit, pulling out my phone as I did so. The plan was to get the hell out of here. I needed space to think and cool off. Drink my aching sorrows away.
Managing to make it all the way to the front of the main building without spotting anyone, I inhaled the fresh air. A quick look at the map on my phone told me there were plenty of bars within walking distance. I chose one that was tucked away off the main drag of the small town and followed the route to get there. The whole walk I focused on everything but the ache in my chest, and somehow avoided clutching onto it, sure at any moment my heart was either going to break in two or stop beating altogether.
The sun was lowering, but it wouldn’t be dark for a few more hours. Between the steady heat of the sun and the gentle breeze, I managed to slow down my stride, still doggedly ignoring that damn ache.
Twenty minutes later, I turned into the smaller side street, seeing up ahead the sign for Wessex Bar. And not a moment too soon. Ignoring Sutton’s barb, his words and accusation were too hard, I tugged open the heavy door, glancing into the quiet bar.
It was a little too early for after-work drinkers, so the place was almost empty. The lighting was dimmer than I expected, taking me a moment to readjust from the bright outside. I zeroed in on the barstool right at the end of the bar, the farthest away from the door. It had my name written all over it.
Once I sat, the bartender, a middle-aged man with a headful of dark hair and just a whisper of gray on the edges, approached. I wondered if, before Sutton, I’d have noticed a man’s appearance, considered if he was decent-looking or not. My gut lurched, and before my emotions could spiral, the guy greeted me with a chin lift. “What’ll it be?”
Eyeing the bottles on the shelf, I winced. Hard liquor wasn’t my friend. It never had been. Give me a decent beer any day. Anything stronger tended to taste like shit. But this was cause for desperate measures. “What’s going to get me wasted but doesn’t taste like crap or make me gag?” I asked honestly.
Considering my life was about to implode, and people would start to believe I was a cheating bastard, what was one more humiliation?
The bartender stared at me for a beat, nodded, and reached for a bottle. “I’ve got just the thing.”
