Springs are at full capacity. Even the few Airbnbs that we have in both towns are full. Since the weather is nice enough, people are camping too. It’s not because of the infamous festival. They came to see Too Far from Grace. Beacon organized a concert outside the bar and posted on his social media about it. We’re right in front of the stage.
This is beyond perfect. I love their music.
TFFG is one of my favorite bands. I should be enjoying myself, but I’m not. The memories crush my chest. I am barely breathing. Pierce and I used to go to concerts often. We even traveled to watch these guys play in New York. He’s near me, and I can’t reach him. We’re no longer together.
Torture isn’t stretching you on the rack until you confess. It’s putting you next to the one person you love the most, but you can’t have him anymore. Add to it that my best friends are cuddling with their significant others, and I feel lonelier than usual.
I’ve been to concerts with my guy, making out while we sway to the rhythm of the music. I don’t have him anymore. Pierce was my one and only.
Why did I fall for him? Because sadly, love strikes in the strangest moments and chooses blindly.
Back when we met, I could see myself spending the rest of my life with him.
Now…it’s hard to define what I feel for him. There are so many emotions pushing and prodding at my heart. Sometimes he makes me so mad, and yet, so sad. Other times, I fall in love with him all over again. I wish we could erase the past. To be just him and me without the pain we inflicted on each other.
The music becomes too much when Grace and Beacon play a solo that sounds more like two souls making love in a magical forest than a new song. There’s too much love around for me to stick nearby.
Since the bar is right next door, I leave. Staying is just too overwhelming. I want him to make everything better, to erase the outside world, and make me forget that I still hurt. My wounds haven’t healed. I was burnt to smoke and ash. He can’t make it better because he was the arsonist who destroyed me.
When I step into the bar, the place isn’t full, but there are people coming and going with their drinks. I bet Levy is making a killing out of this. I order a glass of wine and a shot of tequila. I’m still undecided on what I want to use to drown my sorrows.
It doesn’t take long before I feel his presence.
“What are you drinking, gorgeous?” his deep, sensuous, and smooth voice asks.
It’s one of my favorite sounds in the world. It carries a charge that pumps adrenaline in my blood and makes my pulse beat fast. There’s pure and unadulterated sex in his baritone.
His body presses against me; his hand goes around my body. Pierce places his hand on my belly to make sure I’m close to him. It’s a way to claim some kind of ownership over me.
Without waiting for my answer, he asks Levy, the bartender, “Three fingers of your top-shelf single malt. Give my lady a Moscow mule.”
I shift slightly, tilting my head, throwing a challenging gaze to Pierce, “Why would you assume I want a Moscow mule?”
“You are staring at a glass of wine and a tequila shot. Neither one is doing it for you. Maybe vodka could be what you’re looking for. Something stronger just before we go home,” he replies. Those green eyes outlined by thick, long lashes stare at me mischievously. His over six feet tall body towers over me. “You should’ve told me you wanted a drink. We have rules when we’re at concerts.”
“This is Baker’s Creek,” I remind him, squaring off my body and trying to get out of his hold. “Not Denver, L.A., or any other ridiculously big city where, according to you, I might get lost because I don’t have any sense of self-preservation.”
“Some rules can’t be broken, Ley,” he mumbles against my ear. His eyes look dark, and I suck in a ragged breath. “You know what’s next, don’t you?”
“We shouldn’t,” I whisper, but my belly is tight, and my body is covered with goosebumps.
Thankfully, Levy raps the bar and says, “Mule for the red, and there’s the malt. I’ll put it on your tab. Just make sure to go home right