Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)

Had enough judgment to cast me into the grave.

I stumbled my way down the hall and fumbled into the men’s restroom. Could barely remain standing at the urinal while I took a piss, my mind and head spinning so fast my sight was blurring.

A cyclone of alcohol and agony.

I tucked my dick back into my jeans, buttoned, washed my hands, refused to look at myself in the mirror in fear that I was gonna see the kid staring back.

The kid. The kid.

I pressed my face into my hands, trying to shut it down. To shield myself from this need rising up inside of me, screaming out to do something. To stand up and be the man Izzy had believed I could be.

First sight, and I’d already fucked it up.

Izzy hated me.

Izzy.

Little Bird.

I pressed my hand to the wall when I swayed, and I shook my head hard and flung open the door and staggered out into the hall.

Feet nearly gave when I saw Clarissa coming out of the women’s restroom, my sight blurry, but 99.9% sure it was her.

Speak of the devil.

God, wondered what it’d feel like to have those lips wrapped around my cock.

Torture myself with the mindless bullshit I deserved.

Her smirk was nothing less than cruel victory when she saw me standing there staring at her.

She sauntered across the space, dripping sin, backing me right into the wall. “Back for me so soon?” she purred.

My stomach twisted, nausea rising, but I was reaching for her, pushing my fingers into her hair, jerking her mouth to mine.

“Told you, you’d come crawling back,” she hissed at my mouth, kissing me harder. Deeper. Her tongue slipping inside.

That sickness only grew.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

I was gonna lose it.

The girl crawled all over me right out in the hallway.

Nothing new.

It felt wrong. So goddamn wrong.

“You belong to me, Mack. You always have. Don’t fucking forget it.”

And I tried . . . I tried to kiss her back. Tried to fight the nausea that churned in my guts when I wrapped my arms around her waist and hauled her against my hard, aching cock.

Problem was, it wasn’t aching for her.

Izzy, Izzy.

Anguish flowed.

I pulled her closer, trying to get lost, to fall into her, to block out everything except for the feel of her against my body.

The only thing I saw were three faces.

Three faces.

And I knew, I was utterly and completely fucked.

I pried myself away, stumbling back, and I pointed a finger at her. “No,” was the only thing I could get out of my mouth.

She raked the back of her hand over her mouth, cleaning the lipstick I’d smeared. Or maybe her face was just distorted.

She laughed that crazed sound. Like she’d won.

“No,” I mumbled again, turning around, hand darting to the wall to keep me steady.

I blundered my way down the hall, her voice hitting me from behind. “Time to get over yourself, Mack. Why do you think you keep coming back to me? We were made for each other.”

Trying to block her out, I shoved through the throbbing crowd, glancing over at the booth where I’d been sitting. Jace and Ian were long gone. No doubt, they knew the only medicine for me was blowing off steam.

That’s exactly what I needed to do.

I shouldered through groups congested in front of the stage, knowing I was being a total dick, but I needed to get outside.

Get some fresh air.

Clear my mind.

I never let myself get out of control like this. Always vigilant. Always at the ready.

I finally made it to the door, and I pushed out into the night. Dingy streetlamps burned outside the rundown brick building that was a mile and a half from my house. Hardly anyone was out, only a couple getting cozy against the far wall, a single car passing on the two-lane street.

I turned the opposite direction of the couple, my feet dragging on the sidewalk as I started for home. The echo of the bar seeped through the brick walls, laughter and music and chaos. At the end of the building, I made a right down the alley toward the dirt parking lot behind Monty’s.

At the far end of it, there was a trail that cut through a grove of trees and led to a neighborhood right next to mine. I’d have to hop a fence, but that sounded way better than hoofing it the extra mile.

The faster the route walking home, the better.

My boots scuffed on the dirt, when I felt the echoey silence shift. Something ominous rode on the night air.

Noises hit my ears, and I struggled to listen, to make them out in the middle of the disorder wreaking havoc on my brain.

Muted voices.

Low thuds.

I kept moving that way, shaking my head, trying to sober up.

The area was only illuminated by the dim glow coming from a light hanging from the shed at the very back of the lot, and I rounded it to get to the trailhead, eyes scanning. The fine hairs prickled at the back of my neck as awareness crawled over me from behind.