And it’s not even that I crave alcohol or being high. Not really. I just want my brain to shut off for a bit. I just want to feel like me.

Red flag much?

My cousin slams down a couple tumblers on the bar top, startling me out of my thoughts. A glower seems to be permanently etched across her face as she messily pours out the clear liquid. When done, she all but shoves them across the bar, causing them to spill over and splash anyone in the near vicinity. The guy on the other side of the counter twists his lips into a sneer that quickly gets sucked in when that glower is turned on him.

“What did I tell you about scaring the customers, Ivaiah?” I say as the poor soul whose balls have likely rolled under his seat gently passes her a wad of cash and hurries away. The guy behind him is quick to flag me down instead with his order.

“I don’t know, it probably got lost along with all the other shit that comes out of your mouth.” She pops open three beer bottles in rapid succession before sliding them so roughly across the surface of the bar, I’m surprised they don’t leave skid marks in the wood.

I blink, my hand pausing on the soda dispenser. “Well, aren’t you just in a lovely mood this evening, dear cousin. May I ask who pissed on the man you ate for breakfast?”

I can practically hear Will’s voice in my ear, warning me to play nice.

“Fuck off, Waylon,” she growls before stomping away.

Right.

I wince as I try not to let it get to me. I really, really do.

But it’s hard.

Never in my life have Ivy and I been on the outs like this. It’s been just over three weeks now since my little foray into rock bottom, and I’m lucky if I get a word in edgewise with her on the rare occasion she has no choice but to grace me with her presence. She’s become a pro at avoiding me these last couple weeks, using anyone and anything she can think of as a barrier to keep me away.

And every time, just when I think I might get her to crack, she finds a way to remind me how badly I fucked up this time before shutting me out once more.

It’s not like I haven’t tried apologizing. I know I scared the shit out of her that night. But even I can admit now that I haven’t tried as hard as I probably should have to make things right between us. My attempts at groveling have been feeble at best. Pathetic, really.