him off. “You wanna act like a jerk and turn this around on me, tell me all about my perfect life when you don’t know crap about me, that’s on you. But the truth is, you quit. You gave up. You’re allowing whatever is inside of you, eating at you to win. So don’t blame me, go home and look in the mirror.”
“I would if I could stand the sight of myself.”
With that parting shot, Trey walked across the empty gym and left me hollowed out.
Crap.
Logically, I knew Trey had to want to help himself, I knew I couldn’t force him, I knew it had to be done on his time. But what my brain knew and what my heart felt were two different things.
I had totally failed him.
2
“Hey there, you want company?” The soft purr coming from the barstool next to me grated on my last nerve.
The woman was on my good side—never thought that would be something I ever thought about, nor had I ever considered which side of my face a woman saw first. The truth was, whichever side a woman approached from she’d always liked what she saw. But not now, and the woman standing next to me hadn’t seen the shrapnel scars that marked my other cheek, temple, and neck.
The bitch was in for a rude surprise when I turned to fully face her.
“Sure, honey, what’d you have in mind?”
Three…two…one…and there it was—the flinch, followed by the eye flare, and finally the poor attempt of a cover-up.
Oh, how things had changed. There had been a time when there was no flinch. There’d been blatant interest, the eye flare was open hunger, and women had never attempted to cover up shit. They liked me knowing they were available and up for a good time.
Now, I still got the lame pick-up lines, followed by this bullshit. I hadn’t figured out which way I hated more. Both were annoying as fuck. There was nothing that turned me off faster than an aggressive woman. I was a man who enjoyed the chase however that chase came to be.
“Um…”
I took in the woman next to me—decent-looking, nice eyes, flawless pale skin, huge tits on display, tight jeans, and blonde hair. I didn’t do blondes, they were high drama. I also avoided women who sought attention by showing skin. A man likes to be surprised, he enjoys the journey of uncovering the beauty of a woman’s body.
The woman next to me left nothing to discover. It was in your face in hopes you’d like what you saw and want to take her for a test drive.
I’d had enough women in my bed to tell the difference between one I’d buy a drink and one I’d buy breakfast. The two were vastly different. Then there were the ones you did all you could to extradite yourself from their presence because they screamed desperate.
This woman screamed desperate, but not desperate enough to overlook my scars.
I should’ve been more grateful than I was that most women now left me to drink away my misery in peace. But it was hard to be grateful when every time a woman stared at my face I was reminded of how shallow people are.
It was on that thought, I faced forward, snagged my beer off the bar, and took a long pull. What I really wanted was a bottle of whiskey to chase away the bitterness of my argument with Adalynn. Actually, what I needed to do was stop thinking about the woman altogether.
But guilt churned in my gut.
God, I was an asshole.
“Well, do you?”
I slowly turned my head as the woman next to me stepped closer, so close her cheap pump-bottle perfume assaulted me and I choked back a cough. Christ, was that FDS? It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her when she pressed her tits against my shoulder. And being the asshole I was I tried to find it; I dug down deep and let my imagination run wild, tried my best to picture what those tits would look like bared to me. But blonde hair morphed into dark brown and once again my cock revolted and wouldn’t even twitch.
Fucking Adalynn Walker had ruined me.
It had been months since I’d been laid and it had nothing to do with the marks on my face and everything to do with my dick no longer working when there was a real-life woman in front of me. It worked just fine when I was alone