Chapter Eight
I didn’t know where to go so I just went to the only place that made sense. Our cabin sat on the slope of a mountain and that mountain was right on the edge of the touristy area of Gatlinburg. We were closer to where all the locals lived. This meant there was a small dive bar within a short drive; it was probably only three miles or so from the cabin.
I pulled into a parking spot and grabbed the keys, suddenly realizing that I hadn’t even grabbed a jacket. At the time it hadn’t seemed important. I was just trying to get away from Ryan so I could deal with everything at my own pace. I couldn’t be that close to him anymore or I was going to make a horrible mistake.
As I opened the creaking door to the bar a few heads turned to look at me. A few of the men leered, but when I pulled my shirt up enough to reveal the .45 Glock I was carrying, they averted their eyes and went back to drinking.
I settled at the bar and ran my fingers through my midnight hair, waving the bartender over. The busty woman took my order and handed me the whiskey without saying anything. She knew the look on my face. I had the look of a woman who was running from something, and that’s exactly what I was.
The music playing in the bar was some sad, twangy bluegrass song about lost love. It was so appropriate that it made my heart ache. Tears filled my eyes as I looked down into the whiskey, one solitary tear falling into the glass.
I pushed the glass aside for a moment and put my head in my hands, taking a deep shuddering breath as I tried to pull myself together. What was happening to me? I never would have guessed I’d find myself in a bar crying over a man I lost a long time ago. The worst part was that he was never mine to begin with. I cradled my whiskey, squeezing the glass until my hand started to shake. What was I going to do now? I how could I go back to that cabin?
“Bartender. Whiskey on the rocks, please? Thanks doll.”
A familiar voice echoed in the bar and I stiffened, not looking up. I didn’t need to look up. I knew it was Ryan. I knew his voice. It was velvety and smooth, look a good whiskey. A warm coat was draped around my shoulders and I finally lifted my head enough to look at him. He was wearing his own coat but had brought mine and put it around my shoulders.
He glanced down at me and tipped his whiskey my way. “Did want you to freeze to death. I didn’t think that would look too good on my record.”
I nodded silently and looked into my glass, taking a long drink. The whiskey burned going down but it felt so good. It made me feel alive.
“We got to talk, Kisha.”
God I loved it when he said my name. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Don’t be sly,” he murmured, that soft southern drawl coming through. I knew he tried not to talk with it and it was a damn shame. “There is something eating you up and it’s really starting to affect you. I know it has something to do with me, so we might as well nip it in the bud.”
“I need more whiskey first,” I murmured.
He obliged me and four glasses later I was ready to talk. I was feeling dizzy but plenty lucid and I felt free. I felt like I could talk about things without breaking down.
“So you want to talk?” I asked. “First you need to answer one question.”
He cocked a brow but shrugged. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
“Why did you abandon me?” I whispered, staring at him, my eyes wide.
“Abandon you? What are you talking about?”
“My dad died and you just stopped talking to me!” I choked out, my voice weak and thready.
He stared at me, clearly surprised to be hearing this. “You were so distant, I was trying to give you your space but then you never talked to me again. I thought you were mad at me or something.”
“I was mad at you!”
“I’m not a mind reader, Kisha! How was I supposed to know you wanted me to help you? You never asked for help! You never reached out! You never do!” he said, clearly frustrated.
My eyes widened at the sudden realization. He was right. I was always so insistent on doing things for myself. I saw asking for help as a sign of weakness. I stared into my whiskey. Tears were coming now and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop them.
“I missed you,” I whispered. “I missed you so much. I thought that we were going to be together forever and then dad died and you-- I felt like you left me,” I whispered. “I became so fucking jaded and I wasted so much time being so angry.”
He glanced over at me and sighed, gently putting an arm around me. “I probably could have tried harder, but I was a kid, you know?” he said gently.
I nodded slowly, looking up at him. “I was just a kid too.”
He nodded and held me close. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. I’m sorry you felt like you were alone. I really am. I wish I could change things but I can’t. All I can do is be here for you now and promise I’m going to try and make up for all that lost time,” he whispered, pulling away and looking down at me.
He was so warm and I wanted so badly to be close to him. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but I felt safe. I felt better. It felt like all those wasted years of being angry were just being washed away. I wasn’t angry anymore. I wanted him.
“Take me back to the cabin?” I whispered, my fingers curling in his shirt.