Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
I drank again but halted when I went to tip the bottle and fill my glass.
Blood pounded in my ears. My fist gripped the neck of the bottle too tightly. A fire that burned in my stomach rose to my chest, making my lungs singe like they were on fire. Twelve years after therapy. Twelve years after breathing exercises, making myself feel like I was in control of my emotions. Twelve years of feeling like I was finally in control of my actions, burned to the ground, taking me with it.
And not just me. Oaklyn too.
A growl started in the depths of my soul and worked its way up my chest. It came out a rage-filled scream, and I unleashed. I tossed the bottle into the kitchen sink, and to release some of the tension pulling my muscles too tight, I threw the tumbler at the wall, the piercing sound of shattering glass raining down on my hardwood floor finally broke me out of my stupor.
“Fuck,” I shouted, digging my hands into my hair and tugging. “Fuck.”
Over and over it was all I could think. I was so fucked. This whole situation was fucked. I looked over at the glass on the floor and everything drained from me. I should have cleaned it up. I should have cared. But I didn’t.
I turned away from it and headed upstairs to hopefully pass out and not dream of Oaklyn and what a mess my life was falling back into.
31
Callum
Two weeks after ending it with Oaklyn, I was still drinking too much, trying to figure out if it was better or worse without her. Better for her, at least, because I couldn’t take my temperamental moods out on her.
Two weeks and I was getting more and more exhausted, the hangovers weighing me down, effecting my classes. Each time I had to watch her sit there in class, looking beautiful, but just as tired as me, I wanted to run to her and make it all better. But I wasn’t in a place I could. If I thought I was a mess when we’d ended, I was a god damn catastrophe now.
Breathe in for five, out for five. Repeat.
Five more times and I felt somewhat ready to exit my car and head to class.
All that control came to a screeching halt when I looked up through my windshield and saw Oaklyn with Jackson. He’d pulled to the curb and she got out, looking tired, but still conjuring a real smile for him. He went around to the sidewalk and pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, holding him to her, too. I squeezed the leather around my steering wheel, listening to leather creak under the pressure as I watched him lean down and press his lips to the top her head.
He stepped back still holding her hand until he walked too far away their fingers slipped from one another’s. Were they a couple? Had she moved on and let him comfort her?
Bile swirled in my stomach, threatening to burn its way up my throat.
How could she be with him? So soon? After she’d told me she didn’t want anyone else? Were they together?
I imagined seeing her in class. Wondering how I’d focus. How would I be able to look at her and not lose my shit in front of everyone? Demand that she give me an explanation.
I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.
Starting my car, I punched in the number for the office letting them know I wasn’t going to make it in today. I didn’t have to pretend to sound sick, I was broken and nothing about me was hiding that.
Back at home, I slammed the door to my house, tossing my bag to the floor as soon as I entered, and marched over to the mini-bar. Not bothering with a glass, I unscrewed the top of my bourbon and started drinking.
The morning sun shone into my dark home, turning the framed picture across from me into a mirror. My foggy reflection stared back at me. I pulled my lips from the bottle and really looked at myself.
A twenty-nine-year-old man drinking straight from the bottle before nine in the morning.
A twenty-nine-year-old man who gave up the woman he loved because he had no discipline over his emotions.
A twenty-nine-year-old man letting the past rule him rather than taking control. And not the false control I had before. Real control. Control that stayed even when things went wrong.
How long was I going to let this ruin me, make my decisions for me?
Yes, I trusted Oaklyn enough to get close to her, to make love to her, but I could push myself to be with others—learn to trust them. I could choose what I could and couldn’t do.
I hadn’t done enough to get there on my own, and I’d laid all my intimacy at her feet like I’d be alone forever without her. While I didn’t want anyone other than her, it didn’t mean she was the end all, be all to my future.