Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Tracy’s eyes narrow, and her hands go to her hips. “What’s not going to work?”
I motion between the two of us. “This relationship. It’s not working.”
She waves a hand in exasperation. “Of course it’s not. Because you drag me to dive bars, let women fall all over you, and you would prefer to talk to your buddies rather than me.”
Because you’re a raging bitch, my inner voice says, but I don’t let it out. My mother taught me better.
I decide to take the high road and shoulder complete blame. “I’m not good enough for you, Tracy. You deserve far better than what I’m able to give.”
Her eyes narrow until they’re tiny slits and I can see she’s trying to reason out whether I’m being serious. I wait with hope that she comes to the same conclusion so we can make this a nice parting.
Unfortunately, she backpedals. “I’m sorry,” she says, stepping into me. She wraps her arms around my waist and presses in close. Tracy bats her eyelashes as she tips her head back to look at me. “I’m tired and testy, and I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
Goddamn it. If she would’ve stayed in bitch mode, it would’ve made the breakup much easier.
I fortify myself with one more deep breath and then spell it out as clear as can be. “I want to break up, Tracy.” I gently unwrap her arms from my waist and create space between us. “I don’t believe that you and I have enough in common for the long haul. All we do is fight. You don’t seem happy and I can tell you I’m not happy.”
“You asshole!” she shrieks, and I wince. “How dare you just use me and toss me to the curb?”
So many things I could say to that, but I’m trying to keep my bearings because of the emotional whiplash she’s doling out.
I take her elbow again and start walking her toward the door. “Call an Uber to take you home. I’ll wait outside with you until it arrives.”
Tracy jerks her arm away and hisses, “I’m not going anywhere. And you will take me home since you brought me here.”
I shake my head. “You’re more than welcome to stay. It’s a free country. But I’m not taking you home. We’re done.”
The one thing I’m grateful for is that Tracy has never used tears to manipulate me, although she has tried to manipulate me plenty through anger.
She stares at me icily. “You can go to hell, Hendrix. I’m out of here and don’t you dare follow me. I don’t need your pity.”
Oh, thank God.
Spinning on her foot, she melts into the crowd. I stare in the direction she went, considering if I should follow to make sure she’s safe, but that would only send mixed signals.
A hand claps down on my shoulder, and a shot glass filled with amber liquid is thrust into my grip. I twist to see Coen grinning at me. “Congrats, man. You are free and single again.”
I toss the liquor back and it tastes like pure celebration. I feel like a thousand pounds of weight has evaporated from my body.
Coen loops his arm over my shoulder and grins wickedly. “I guarantee you everyone in our group tonight will be fighting to buy you the next one. Prepare to get drunk.”
Laughing, I follow Coen through the crowd to where the rest of my peeps are congregated.
♦
There are six Titans players here tonight.
Stone, Coen, Foster, Kirill, Kace, and me, which means a total of five shots to celebrate my breakup with Tracy. We’re all enjoying this little bar Harlow set up for our charity drive and given that we only have a light skate tomorrow, I know I’ll have zero regrets over the hangover I’ll surely be suffering. There may have been a moment between the second and third shots where I considered if this was a wise course of action, but I realized I wouldn’t be alone in my suffering because for every shot I drink, my mates toss their own back in brotherly solidarity.
The fifth, and I say final, shot of the evening (because I don’t want to feel like absolute shit tomorrow) arrives via the same bartender Tracy was trashing a few hours ago when we arrived.
I noticed her when we walked in, running back and forth behind a busy bar. Harlow seems to know her as I’ve seen them talking here and there when the woman had a few seconds to spare, but she’s been so busy with the masses we drew in tonight, I’m surprised to see her headed this way.
She’s totally hot and not trashy the way Tracy said. While Tracy is all sunny California looks—golden hair, tanned skin, and a lush figure—the bartender is quite the opposite, and I’m guessing that’s why Tracy hated her on sight.