I was a mess.

And this time it was far worse than my break-up with Calla. Only Vida and I hadn’t actually called it quits if you really think about it. All she’d said was she needed space, the time-frame undeterminable and non-negotiable.

The outcome didn’t seem promising though, if you asked me.

She wasn’t responding to my texts.

Continuously screened my calls.

Wouldn’t return my voicemails.

I didn’t know what to do and honestly, I didn’t know how much more I could take. It’d been almost a month and I was on the verge of turning to alcohol again. I know, I know, bad decision, but the drink helped numb young Jag when he needed it, and I really fucking needed it. Was it so awful that I just wanted to forget? Erasing her from my memories was infinitely better than tormenting myself with that why’s and the what if’s.

Don’t worry, the boys didn’t let me anywhere near the bar during my shifts, though, and Betty snuck me no more than two shots, so it wasn’t exactly the easiest coping method to grab a hold of anyway.

Plus, allowing myself to reach that point would only prove I’d hit rock bottom, and I didn’t exactly think picking myself up from that downward spiral would be as easy as it was last time. Even if Vida had never really been mine, this shit hurt a hell of a lot more than watching the mother of my child walk away.

Why?

Because what I felt for her was real and raw. To me, she was mine. When I held her, when I kissed her, touched her, made love to her...she was mine.

Obviously I was very wrong.

That’s why losing Vida hadn’t just fucked me up mentally. I was struggling at work too, unable to reconnect with the panty-melting stripper the ladies expected to see when they scrambled to their seats. My routines were half-assed, VIP was even worse. Betty had also threatened to fire me on one occasion.

But that didn’t kick my ass into gear either.

I just wasn’t feeling it and I couldn’t help but wonder if SIX was next to go down the drain too.

After another robotic routine I barely remembered, the boys and I congregated in the dressing room as always. They were hyped, laughing and fucking around with not a care in the world while I sat off to the side, sipping my Red Bull in a daze. They’d grown so accustomed to my new reserved self, none of them bothered asking what was up my ass anymore since I never shared. So when they started out the door to head back into the main room, without waiting to see if I was tagging along, I was surprised to see Sinclair close the door behind them and drop down on the couch beside me.

Sighing, he leaned onto his knees and clapped his hands together. "What's wrong, man? You've been stomping around like a ginormous fucking asshole for the last month.”

"It's Vida,” I admitted, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Don’t ask why I decided to spill the beans, to Sinclair the emotionless dickhead, nonetheless. It came flying out before I could tell him to fuck off.

“I figured as much, but what happened?”

“A disaster I shoulda seen coming when I opened my big ass mouth.”

He motioned for me to continue, so I scrubbed a hand down my face.

“The short version? Her ex showed up unannounced after we had dinner, she didn’t seem too pleased to find him standing on the other side of the door, and when it became apparent he had no intention of leaving, I couldn’t stop myself from letting him know she wasn’t alone.”

Sin sucked in a heap of air between his teeth and shook his head, lifting a hand before I could continue. “I don’t even need to hear the rest. I’m assuming that’s what pissed her off?”

I nodded.

“Bad call on your part, that’s for sure, especially when she was just your weekend piece. I’d understand if it were Ca—”

“Vida isn't just a weekend piece,” I growled and an amused grin spread across his face.

“Oh really? Do tell then.”

“There's nothing to tell—she’s just different.”

“Different how?”

“When I’m with her,” I started, but words quickly failed me, leaving me there with my mouth popped open like a little bitch.

It was fucking pathetic.

Sin apparently thought so too as he watched me intently, his amusement growing in tenfold the longer I struggled to speak. “Well?”

The question only added to my frustration and I blurted out, “I don't know, man, I can't explain this shit.”

"Pussy's that good, huh?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, “so she’s not a weekend piece and you’re pussy whipped. What else?”

“She just…she makes me happy. Happier than I’d thought I could be. She’s so much more.”

“Then why not go after her?”

“I have, she doesn’t answer me,” I said, my tone defeated and desperate as I dropped my head into my hands.

“I don’t mean calling her, Monroe. I mean physically going after her. Actions speak louder than words, bro. Women need to see that shit.”

“I don’t want another door in my face though.”

“But do you want her?”

His query snapped my gaze in his direction.

“Obviously, fucktard.”

“Then that’s a risk you’ll have to be willing to take.”

Fuck my life…

“Think of it this way,” he went on. “If you go see her and she welcomes you with open arms, then good, that’s the goal here. But if she shuts you down and sends you away, at least you’ll have a firm answer rather than being up in the air. Sometimes closure is better than nothing.”

“I don’t want fucking closure, I just want her,” I asserted.

“Then stop moping your ass around here and go get her. I’ll cover for you and tell Betty you started feeling sick or some shit.”

“She’s not gonna buy that.”

“I’ll make her buy it, trust me, go,” he assured me, clapping me on the back.

So I left.

With Sinclair’s help, I jumped in the LC and sped through the streets to Vida’s apartment, feeling more pumped than I had in weeks. He was right. She needed to see how badly I. Needed. Her. When I pulled up to her building, I threw the car in park and hustled my way up to the sixth floor, taking the steps two at a time until I was face to face with her front door. I banged my fist against it frantically, calling her name out in pleading. But the seconds quickly turned into minutes, and all too soon I realized either she wasn’t home or she wasn’t going to answer it.

That is, until I heard the little squeak from the floor board on the other side.

Yes.

“Vida, I can hear you standing there. Answer the door, please!”

“Go away, Jagger,” she said steadily, the sound of her voice skyrocketing my pulse.

Just the fact that she was standing right there gave me a sliver of hope.

“No, not until you hear me out.”

“I’m listening.” That was all she offered, and while it wasn’t exactly how I wanted this go, beggar’s can’t be choosers…

“I just… I just want you to know that I’m sorry, okay? I know I’ve said it a million times already but it’s the truth. I’m sorry for crossing the line. It was unwarranted and inappropriate, especially after our conversation prior to it all. I can do better, Vida, I swear to you.”

Silence.

And silence.

And more silence.

That little sliver of hope shredded into confetti before I could even hold it tight. She wasn’t going to budge, no matter what I said or how hard I tried.

Sometime’s closure is better than nothing.

Sin’s words rung out in my head and although I didn’t want to do it, her resistance in this moment spoke deafening volumes. It had to be done regardless of how painful it might be. Of how much it would fuck me up.

Damn it.

Pressing my forehead to the door, my hand curled in fist on the cool surface, I sighed. “I miss you, Vida. I miss you so fucking much, it hurts. But I won’t keep bothering you or harassing you. I only came here tonight because I wanted you to see I was serious, not that it matters now anyway.”

It was a struggle to get the next bit out but on a deep breath, I forced myself through it.

“I hope you know that in the short time we were together, you lit up my life in ways that, up until now, only Mila had the ability to do. You showed me it was possible to be happy with one person again, that not all women are like Calla. I don’t know that I’ll ever find someone like you…but I do know I’ll never forget you.”

I’ll never, ever forget you, I thought as I pushed myself away from the door and darted down the stairs with a heavy heart. Said heavy heart was completely split in two mangled pieces by the time I slid into the LC and started up the engine. This was over. It was really over this time and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Fucking bullshit tears sprung to my eyes, their unwanted presence filling with me instant rage over my emotions. I slammed my fist down the steering wheel a few times before thrusting myself back into the seat one, two, three times. I’d have kept at it, too, if it wasn’t for my phone blaring in my pocket.

Hoping it might be Vida, I fished it out with a quickness, nearly fumbling it onto the floor in my haste. But the screen didn’t reveal the name I wanted to see. Of course not, because you know, that’d be too good to be fucking true.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Calla said softly. “You got a minute?”

“Yeah.” I replied testily.

“I, um, I realize this is extremely last minute, again, and I’m not sure what your schedule looks like, but…would Mila be able to spend the night with you next weekend?”

Not was I was expecting, but okay…

“I’m off next weekend so yeah, that’s fine.”

She let out a deep breath. “Oh, Jesus, thank God. Thank you, Jagger, seriously.”

“You act like I’d say no.”

“I know… I guess I was just worried because it’s so last minute and I mean, up until recently, you and I weren’t exactly on civil terms.”

“It’s not last minute. You’re giving me a head’s up a week in advance, which I appreciate by the way. And even if I did have to work, had you really needed her to stay with me, I’d take the time off,” I countered, putting the car into park. “And for the record, I much prefer things this way. I know we didn’t work out, Calla, but I don’t think that means we need to hate each other. If anything, I think we need to show Mila we can be friends.”

“I agree, to all of it,” she murmured.

At least one thing in my life seemed to headed in the right direction, right?