Page 88 of Singled Out

Not going to break down. Left, right, left, right.

As usual, I’d worn running shorts and a tank. Tonight I’d put a thin hoodie on too. I pulled the sleeves down over my hands and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling chilled despite my swift pace.

I reached the square in no time, still filling my mind with surface things—the rhythm of my steps, my new mantra about not breaking down, the Saturday-night sounds in the heart of a small town.

The Fly was on my way home. I could hear the bar was crowded from down the block. Dakota was there with some of our friends, I knew. They’d invited me, but I’d said I was going to bed early because I worked tomorrow morning.

It was yet another fib I’d told to keep our secret. To protect Max. For no reason, it turned out.

Instead of leaning into the anger that was just below the surface, I decided to join my friends after all and stepped inside. Owen Engel was checking IDs. He greeted me warmly and let me pass, likely knowing how old I was to the month as we’d gone to school together and graduated the same year.

“Dakota’s at the big table up front,” he told me.

I made myself smile and got sucked into the crowd, thankful for the dark, noisy interior. I wasn’t at all made up, wasn’t dressed for a Saturday night out, but I didn’t care. The thought of going home to an empty apartment, with only my thoughts to keep me company, sounded like torture.

The big table was indeed overflowing with my friends—Dakota, Piper, Jewel, Quincy, Shawna, Anna, and Olivia. Predictably, there was no shortage of people gathered around the table, lots of them guys. Piper was on the end and slid over enough on the booth to let me sit next to her.

“Dakota said you were staying in tonight,” she said in my ear over the roar.

“Changed my mind,” was all I told her.

Gideon Webb, another friend I’d graduated with, was hanging out in front of our three-sided booth. He leaned down and said, “I haven’t seen you out much lately, Ellison. You too good for us?”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You need a vodka cranberry?” he asked.

“God, yes. You know me well.” Maybe I’d have ten of them.

Dakota was trapped in the middle of the booth but seemed happy to see me, as did everyone else. I attempted to soak in the good cheer and live in the moment, but there was a deep sadness in my chest just waiting to swoop in and take me under.

I made it through a dozen hugs, a handful of meaningless conversations, and half my vodka cranberry before the walls closed in on me and the noise became too much to handle. Without a word to anyone, I got up and left, knowing they’d assume I went to the restroom and wouldn’t follow me.

The sidewalk was quieter but not private. I needed to be alone before the storm of emotions broke down my walls and made me sob like a baby.

I went around to the back of the buildings on my block and hurried for my door. I glanced at the back door to the shop space we were trying to make ours as I walked past. Normally it sparked optimism and hope in me, but now I couldn’t summon anything besides sadness and defeat. I wasn’t sure we could make our business a reality after all.

One more dream that was on the verge of shattering.

My eyes filled before I could get the apartment door unlocked, blinding me, making it that much harder to get the key in the hole. Finally I got it open and practically fell into the living room, then shut the door and locked it.

Without turning on lights, I went to my room and collapsed into bed on top of the blankets. I hugged my extra pillow, curling around it, inhaling, wishing for a hint of Max’s scent like when I was in his bed.

Of course there was nothing of him on this bedding. He’d never been here except for the day I moved in. Our fling had been a one-sided effort.

I’d been stupid enough to make it easy for him to have his meaningless hookups without putting forth any effort. All the effort had been mine. The covering up where I was, acting like I was going to bed early, deceiving Dakota. Hiding it from everyone. All for no fucking reason.

Now that I was in the safety of my bed, alone, in the blessed dark, I gave in to the emotions, let them wash over me and try to drown me. They came out in ugly sobs. I couldn’t have stopped them if I’d wanted to.

I cried for my stupidity. I cried for Max’s stupidity. I cried in anger and regret and so much fucking sadness I thought it would suffocate me. My heart hurt so much I didn’t know if I would ever get it all cried out.

I nearly jolted off the bed when I felt someone touch my leg.

Dakota.

Crap. I’d left the Fly a good two hours before closing, certain she’d stay until last call. I had no idea how much time had passed, but it definitely wasn’t two hours.

“What are you”—sniff—“doing here?” I asked her, sitting up.