The bright green of the absinthe bottle catches my eye as the blonde I just pissed off brings it to the coffee table. I watch as she sets it in the center and lines up three shot glasses before going back to the small kitchen only ten feet away to grab more.

Kane’s in the middle of the sofa with both arms draped across the back as Christi and the brunette cuddle up next to him. The sounds of them laughing and Kane saying something in a low voice as they huddle closer to him are barely on my mind as I turn my focus back to my phone.

I text the driver and let him know I’m going to need the car in about thirty minutes then send him the address.

It takes fifteen minutes for the alcohol to hit their systems. Heavy pours and three shots each will have them all out on their asses. Normally I’d feel bad cutting their party short, but I don’t give a shit. All I can think about is Kat.

I need to get back to her.

With an asymmetric grin forced onto my face, I roll up my sleeves, letting the tats show. “Let me get it, doll,” I tell the blonde as I make my way to the kitchen. “You sit back and relax,” I add, taking the bottle from her hands. I’ll pour the second round while they’re throwing back the first. She gives me a flirtatious smirk. “I knew you weren’t all asshole,” she teases with a playful peek up at me and then sits on her knees next to the coffee table. Too close, too presumptuous.

“You had it right the first time,” I murmur under my breath as I fill all six glasses and pass them out.

“Let’s do a couple rounds and get this party started.”

Kat

“I’m stronger than this. I deserve so much more.”

They’re the words I breathe, then collapse on the floor.

My eyes close tight; tears trapped, lungs still.

I can’t speak the truth; I can’t fight the chill.

“I’m stronger than this.” I whisper the words, my face hot.

But I know I’m a liar, and I know that I’m not.

Evan almost never texts me when he’s working but he did tonight, and I can’t take my eyes away from my phone because of that little fact. In all the years we’ve been together, I can count on one hand when he’s messaged me while out on a job. I’ve never minded it; he’s working. I’ve never needed a message that said he missed me, I always knew he did and that he’d be home soon. I had work to occupy me while he was away. Come morning, there was always a message to greet me, but while he was out, he was simply unavailable.