When the call ends, I’m left with a hand to my lips, tears spilling over. The hope I had in seeing his name on the screen crashes down all around me, shatters and mingles with the little pieces of my heart I’ve yet to even attempt to pick up.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Gunner

“IF YOU’RE GOING TO KEEP being a miserable fuck, can you at least allow me to get drunk so I can tolerate you being an asshole better?” Nix asks from his perch in the bar.

“Leave me alone,” I mutter and muster a smile at the customer in front of me as I slide her drink over to her.

“If you’re done with Chase, tell her,” he continues. “At least face it so you can stop moping around here, making all of us want to drink more to put up with you.”

“It’s good for business.”

“Running all your customers out by snapping at them isn’t though.”

“Fuck.” I sigh and hang my head before looking back up at him. “I did tell her. I kicked her out. I haven’t returned her calls. How much more can I tell her?” I ask, exasperated.

“You told her, yes. But have you told you that though?”

“Nix. I’m going to kick your ass out if you keep this shit up.”

“Dude, I’m only trying to help.” He lifts his hands in surrender. “In case you forgot, I’m the one who’s been here every night if you want to talk.”

“You’re here every night regardless,” I counter.

“Yeah, but I never want to hear you talk. This time around, I’m telling you I’m willing to put up with it and shit.”

A smile tugs onto my lips. He’s right. He’s trying to be a good friend and I know it, but it doesn’t make anything better.

It feels like nothing will.

“Thanks.” I tap the neck of my beer against his. “Truly. I appreciate it. This is just something I need to get over on my own.”

“So you’re going to get over her then?”

“What choice do I have?”

“From the way I see it, you have lots of choices, but you seem pretty set on letting her go. But if that’s what you’re going to do, then fucking do it so you can move on. I liked you before. I liked you with her. But I don’t like this guy”—he motions at me—“and frankly, I’m worried about him.”

“You don’t need to be worried about me,” I say and pull the tap to pour a beer.

My eyes wander to the orange envelope I’ve pinned to the wall behind the bar. A reminder to myself why I’m here, what I gave up, and that Chase lied to me.