I walked a pace behind them, hoping they wouldn’t involve me in their conversations, but Vivian insisted on dropping back to walk with me.
I had no idea what she was prattling on about, my focus being on the bar we were going to and the man I’d find there. My mind centred on the night ahead and how I would react seeing him again.
I glimpsed Killian as we walked in, dressed much the same as last time. My heart stopped for a second, and my stomach did somersaults. How could the sight of him do these things to me?
He stood by the bar, a drink in his hand, laughing at something someone had said, and a huge smile lit up his face.
I could do this, but it was such a bad idea.
The incessant itching began, and I swayed, now lightheaded. My clothes tightened, and my heart raced. I licked my dry lips, scraping the bottom lip with my teeth. I gripped onto a chair and tried to steady myself.
Panic overtook me. Sweat erupted on my skin, tingling like needles. I knew I couldn’t stay there. I’d barely got away with itlast time; I wouldn’t be able to fight it again. This time, the cut would be deeper. This time, I wouldn’t stop.
The man was poisonous. He’d be my downfall.
Because of him, everything I’d worked for would come crashing down. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
Not again.
But before I could leave, my feet went out from under me, and I crashed to the floor, the room slowly fading from view.
Chapter 6
Killian
Iturned towards the commotion: shouting and the sound of chairs being scraped along the floor.
What the fuck was going on? I tried to peer over the heads of the people gathered there, but I couldn’t see anything.
“What’s going on?” I asked the bartender. “Can you see?”
“I don’t know. Looks like someone’s on the floor.” He continued drying the glasses and stacking them on the shelves.
“Do you think we should call an ambulance? Do you think they’re hurt?”
“They’re probably drunk,” he said and laughed.
“It’s five o’clock in the evening. Who the feck is drunk at this time of day?” Stupid fucking question. I’d been drunk at ten in the morning before now. Hell, I’d still been drunk at six after an all-night bender.
“Anyone if they’ve got any sense. Who the fuck isn’t drunk this time of day?”
Me, for one. I’d not touched a drop since Thursday, and fuck, was I feeling it. I’d woken up shivering in the middle of the night and reached for the vodka bottle that was usually on the nightstand, only to come up empty-handed.
But it had been seven days now, and I wasn’t about to fall off the wagon. I knew how bad withdrawal could get, but I was determined this time.
Curiosity got the better of me, though, and I walked over to see if I could help.
“Is everything okay here? Do you guys need any help?” I took in the scene. One guy lying on the floor, another next to him, and two anxious-looking women.
“It’s our friend. One minute he was fine; the next he crumpled like a wet paper bag and fell on the floor,” the guy kneeling next to him said.
“Is he hurt?” I couldn’t see any injuries, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have any.
“I can’t see any blood, but I don’t know if he banged his head when he fell,” one woman said, her eyes wide with worry.
I finally looked down at the man on the floor, his face partially hidden by the hood on his coat. His eyes were closed.
“Come on, Harvey. Wake up, mate.” The man kneeling next to him patted his face. At first, there was nothing, but slowly, he stirred, murmuring something unintelligible. He gradually opened his eyes. Rich brown eyes, unfocused. Did he know where he was?