How could he give up on us like this? It was like I truly didn’t know him at all.
And maybe I really never did.
Breaking Hearts
Nick
I could have never imagined how badly it would hurt telling Jess about Carla. And it did. It hurt something awful. Hearing the pain in her voice when I spilled my news slayed me. My heart bled out in my chest in response to her tone.
Jess was pissed, but mostly she was devastated. I heard every ounce of pain that she tried to hide behind her anger. I honestly figured that I was doing the right thing by being the one who told her about the wedding, but fuck, maybe I should have let Rachel tell her? Maybe I shouldn’t have told her at all, kept her in the dark.
No. See? That’s even more fucked up.
Jess deserved to know what I had done, and she deserved to hear it from me. But now I felt like a complete asshole, even more than I already did. If there was a way to feel lower than the dirt on the bottom of someone’s shoe, I achieved it. I was currently living it.
I still loved Jess. Goddamn, I still loved her more than anything, but I couldn’t tell her that.
She called it right away too. Jess knew my dad was responsible for this entire fiasco, but I couldn’t admit that to her without giving her the rest of the details. If I gave that girl a morsel of information, she’d hammer at me until I gave it all up. And if she knew the whole story, she’d come unglued, take the first flight back here, and try to talk me out of it.
I knew at least that much, and I couldn’t let her do that. I’d protect Jess’s future the only way I knew how—by marrying Carla.
Jesus. Just putting the words Carla and marry in the same sentence made me want to throw up.
Honestly, I never thought I’d marry anyone other than Jess. Even through all the crap of my letting her go and move away from me, I had always planned to win her back. As soon as she had that damn diploma in her hands, I intended to make her mine again.
I couldn’t have cared less if she was dating some guy or what other obstacle stood in my way when it came to getting her back in my arms. I never planned on stopping until she gave in. I’d apologize, tell her how much of an idiot I was, and fight for however long it took to win back her trust and her heart. We belonged together, and we both knew it. Living my entire life without Jess wasn’t a thought I had ever entertained.
Until now.
Now I had to accept the fact that I’d be living my whole life without her, because there’d be no winning her back after this. Even Jess had a limit, and this engagement had pushed her too far over it. Eventually she would learn the truth, that I’d done all this for her. And maybe one day she’d actually forgive me for it, or at least understand. If there was a god, I hoped like hell he’d help her.
Hopping into my truck, I headed toward Santa Monica. My brothers and their bar still served as my only place of refuge, and I wasn’t sure that would ever change. Especially now.
When I walked inside, I was thankful to see only a handful of customers. It shouldn’t have surprised me, considering that it was the middle of the day and Sam’s didn’t usually start hopping until sundown.
“Little brother,” Frank called out, greeting me as soon as I stepped inside and removed my sunglasses.
As I made my way to the bar, I briefly considered heading into the private office. Instead, I sat down on an empty bar stool at the opposite end of the bar, as far from the other patrons as possible.
“You look like shit, sweetheart,” Ryan’s voice boomed as he rounded a corner and came into view.
“Appreciate it,” I mumbled, knowing I probably looked as shitty as I felt.
“Aw, baby brother. Why so glum?” he teased, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Just in a shit mood is all.”
“You’re always in a shit mood,” Ryan said, and I wished like hell it wasn’t the truth, but it was. He turned his back to me and started mixing a drink while I watched, eyeing the ingredients carefully.
“What’s that?” I asked, pretty familiar with all the drinks they served, but I hadn’t seen this one before.
“Something new I whipped up last night. Frank thinks it tastes like piss, but the ladies who tried it last night loved it.” He grinned.
“They were so drunk, they would have told you that anything tasted good enough to be on the menu,” Frank grumbled.
I laughed for the first time that day, watching as he walked down to the other end of the bar to check on his customers.
Ryan shoved the rose-colored concoction toward me, and I sniffed it before bringing it to my lips and taking a slow sip. Pulling back, I shoved the glass back toward my brother.
“Girls said they liked this?”
“Be helpful or get out,” Ryan said as he pointed toward the door, clearly butt-hurt.
He was good at creating new cocktails, but his ego was easily bruised at first when it came to the feedback. He was typically defensive before he set about correcting things, making it better than any of us could have ever thought.
“First of all, it has too much lime. And whatever the juice is? God, it’s hard to swallow, like an unbalanced sweet and bitter. Needs more rum or less juice, something so it goes down easier. What is the juice? It’s so light, I can’t place it.”
“Watermelon.” Ryan grimaced before taking a sip, and I grinned. “Hell. You’re right.” He dumped it down the sink and set about remaking it.