“Cancel all my appointments for today,” I say.“You can take the day off.”
I open the mirrored door without waiting for a reply and slam it shut behind me. I don’t even bother locking it.
At this moment, I don’t care who might come in. The day is ruined. I have no patience left for this shit.
In the living room, I find an unopened bottle of scotch in the cabinet. I grab the glass next to it and fill it to the brim. No ice needed. I just want to shut my mind up, and my old companion is here to help.
The amber liquor slides down my throat, leaving a slight burn behind. I drain the glass in one go and pour another. Apparently, I haven’t really given up hard liquor. A few minutes with William, and suddenly everything else seems more tempting than staying in control.
“Arès?”
Annoyed, I stare at my glass, hoping it’s clear enough that I don’t want to talk.
“I told you to take the day off. What don’t you understand?”
“We need to talk,” he insists.
I turn around, exasperated. I don’t want to talk! Why can’t anyone get that? Sometimes silence is all you need.
“Go away. We’ll see each other tomorrow,” I say, keeping my voice steady, then turn my back on him.
I don’t wait for him to leave. I don’t listen to his footsteps. I focus only on my glass.
When I finish my second, I don’t stop there. I pour a third before sitting on the couch.
The cushion next to me sinks. I turn my head. Andrew hasn’t left. He just sat beside me, silent, enduring my muteness.
CHAPTER 7
ANDREW
I’m unsettled. The guy in the shop looks eerily like me. How is that even possible? How can two people resemble each other so much without knowing one another? It’s insane. Simply unbelievable.
I look away. Ares sits next to me, staring into his glass like it might offer him some kind of redemption. His fingers cling to it tightly. It’s his lifeline. Alcohol might not be the solution, but sometimes, it’s the only escape from yourself. He wants to run from his own skin. He’s fighting himself.
That’s why I stayed. Even if these new revelations make me uncomfortable, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him alone.
“You touched me because I look like him?”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
His gaze lifts. He stares at me, jaw clenched, but I’m not afraid of him. He doesn’t scare me. I know he won’t hurt me.
“You want the truth, or do you want me to spare your feelings?” he hisses, more venom than question. He’s clearly cornered.
“The truth,” I demand.
He slams the glass down on the table. The sound echoes off the walls, buzzing in my ears.
“I thought you were William,” he admits, not breaking eye contact.“That’s probably why I can’t stay away from you.”
I see it. He’s trying to wound me. Trying to push me away. There might be truth in what he’s saying, but it’s not the whole truth. He’s hiding something—just like I’m desperately trying to conceal my own reaction to him.
Even knowing he wants distance, my chest tightens painfully. This morning, I had hope. Now, it vanishes, reminding me that it’s safer to face this world alone.
“If you miss him so much you want to touch me to fill that void, maybe you shouldn’t have pushed him away earlier.”
He shoots to his feet, grabs the bottle of whiskey, and takes a long pull straight from it, ignoring the glass entirely.
