I’m surrounded in the bone-deep cold since I left Acacia behind me, but this is not the same comfort I’ve been feeling; this is prickling my skin, burning me inside… like anger, like a disappointment. I’m punishing myself with the idea of April’s anger toward me. Embracing this cruel coldness as my penance for betraying her, for hurting Acacia, for all my stupid mistakes.
And I’m a mess.
It’s been two weeks since I drove straight to the cabin and locked myself in this room. April’s eyes are watching my every move from every corner of the room. I want her to be angry at me, judge me for not being a man enough to keep my promise to her about not forgetting her or not being brave enough to go after the woman who loves me even though I never gave her any reason to.
‘Don’t make me fall in love with you if you’re not ready to try.’
Damn… Acacia’s voice is haunting me. She was ready to give her heart to me just in exchange for a promise from me. She just wanted to know I was willing to try, willing to accept her into my life.
I grab another bottle of whiskey I’ve stocked in this room. Gulping it, I let it burn my throat on its way down. I hope that would be enough to kill the bastard in me.
What kind of a man am I?
Because of not being able to handle the pain of losing one love I’m sacrificing the other. I don’t know what hurts me the most - not having enough time with April or knowing if I could have been braver so we could have had more time together.
I hope you won’t be too late for me. What if I am too late for Acacia?
I used to think that I didn’t like Acacia, that she means nothing to me, but now I can see how stupid I was. I’m in love with that girl in her cut jeans and leather. I wonder which color her hair will be when I see her next.
“Go away, Casper,” I yell at him when I hear him bark outside the door. He’s been trying to get inside for two weeks.
I caress the photo in my hand, the first time I’ve seen April. She didn’t even know I took this photo of her, kind of pursuant I know, but I’m glad I did. This photo of her is showing her true beauty, how her eyes are shining like two obsidians, how her smile lights up her face. But now at that moment, I’m looking in her eyes with regret and with another woman’s thought in my mind.
“I want to see her, April,” I whisper. My voice is croaked with all the emotions.
For a second the pain of the cold has left my heart, letting me breathe easier and I know this is the right decision. I should go to Acacia. I should see her even if it is only from afar.
Standing up I unlock the door and let myself out as Casper jumps up and down with happiness to see me. I rub his soft fur as I search for my keys and without a second glance, I leave the house, heading to the bar.
~*~
Walking inside my eyes are searching for Acacia, but she is nowhere to be seen. I’m about to turn back and head for her apartment when Toby notices me.
“Ashton? Come inside,” he calls out, waving his arm enough to turn everyone’s attention to me. Without making eye contact with anyone I walk toward him, sitting on a barstool.
“Where is Acacia?”
“You look like shit,” he says like I didn’t ask him a question.
“I feel like shit. Where is Acacia?” I snap at him, but the amusement on his face tells me he doesn’t mind.
“You should… and you’re not seeing Acacia like that. I won’t let you,” he says calmly, but his eyes get bigger as he adds, “You’re drunk, wait… did you drive like that?”
“Yeah, I drove like that! So, sue me. Where is Acacia?” I say as I push him. Who does he think he is, keeping me away from her?
“Like I said, I won’t let you see her. Over my dead body. You’re drunk, and you’re emotional, I get it… but then the next day you will regret it and hurt her even more than you have already. I can’t let that happen.” His eyes are stern.
I could leave the bar and go straight to Acacia’s apartment… I could, but I can’t. Because I know Toby is right. I know if I see her I will kiss her, hug her… anything, and the next morning I will regret it. Again.
“Whiskey?” I sigh.
“Nope. You need water and a shower… and a good night’s sleep,” he says, placing a big glass of water in front of me. “Drink that, big boy. We’re leaving.”
“What? Where?”
“To my place. You can’t drive like thi
s, not again. And I’m not planning on dragging your drunk ass all the way to the mountains. Drink all of that.”