Page 6 of Withholding Nothing

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Ashton. You didn’t make him cheat. There’s something messed up in him that made him do that, not something you did,” she coaxed. A few sneaky tears rolled down my cheeks before I had a chance to stop them.

I knew she was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. Wiping my eyes, I took a deep breath and gave her a small smile. “Thanks. I’ll be fine though. I should probably just call it a night,” I said.

“Do you need me to walk you to your door?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll call you in the morning,” I said and got out of the Jeep. She stayed in the parking lot until I entered my apartment, honking as she left out.

As soon as I locked the door behind me, my stomach churned violently, sending me running to the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before I came face to face with the drinks I’d consumed earlier in the night. I threw up until nothing remained, my dry heaving echoing in the porcelain toilet bowl. I flushed the toilet and sank to the floor, resting my arm on the toilet seat and putting my head down.

I somehow managed to survive my three-month dumpiversary. Just a few weeks ago, I cried myself to sleep on Ava’s couch, devastated and scared of what the future would hold since I was officially alone. Now I sat on my bathroom floor with my head almost in the toilet, feeling as much pain as I did that night. Nothing had changed other than my car being wrecked and the huge shiner on my forehead that would hurt like a bitch in the morning.

Trying to ease the pounding in my head, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. One thing remained the same though. Just like that night, only one thought swam around in my mind before drifting off.

Fucking Steve.

Go figure.