There’s blood in my mouth. A scar on my soul.
If this is called love, I’d rather go it alone.”
I’m halfway down the row of booths. Skipping over the chorus, I shift straight to the next verse instead.
“I wait for the dawn, a new day to break.
Storm winds are gone but my heart still aches.
I sort through the wreckage. You sit there crying.
You said you’d protect me… are you even trying?”
Every line of this song is saturated by memories I can’t erase. My eyes start to sting with tears as I sing. I shake them away and return to the opening verse, the part where I keep getting stuck. If I could just get this line right, it would finally be finished. Maybe then, I could put it to rest. Maybe then, I could stop wondering what happened after I left. How she’s weathering the storm without me, now that I’m no longer there to take the worst of the damage.
“There’s fire in my blood. A beat in my veins…”
I trail off.
“You could try,Laughing into the storm like I’m going insane.” A strong, male voice suggests out of nowhere, scaring me half to death. “Or, maybe,the winds are howling a haunting refrain.”
Spinning around, my heart pounds double-time as I seek out the source of the voice. I take a few angry strides to the last booth in the row and find Ryder sprawled flat on the seat cushion, totally concealed by the table unless you’re standing directly beside it.
“You!” I screech. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
He sits up, looking bleary-eyed as he glances around. His hair is even more mussed than usual — flattened on one side from sleeping on it. He shrugs lightly.
“Passed out, I guess.”
“You… But… ” My cheeks redden. “You can’t be in here! We’re closed.”
“Damn. Missed last call, then,” he murmurs, looking crestfallen as he glances around the empty bar. “Too much to hope I can get you to pour me a nightcap, I suppose?”
I bend to retrieve the empty bottle of whiskey on the floor by his feet, setting it on the table with a dull clink. “I think you’ve had quite enough.”
“Not by half.”
My brows lift at his dark tone. I want to ask why he’s in such a foul mood, what sorrows he’s so intent on drowning, but my lips clamp shut. I refuse to display a single drop of sympathy for the man who insulted me so brutally mere hours ago. The silence stretches on for a long moment, until his mismatched blue-brown eyes lift to meet mine. They’re red-rimmed from the whiskey, but there’s no mistaking the look in them as he studies me. The pain… and, the pity.
Of all people who could’ve overheard me singing that song… why did it have to be him?
I physically react, flinching back from that expression on his face. I hate that he’s heard my words, that he’s borne witness to such a vulnerable moment. My mouth opens to order him to get out of here before I call the cops on him for trespassing and vagrancy, but he beats me to the punch.
“Who’s the song about?” he asks in a disarmingly soft voice.
“None of your business,” I snap back.
“It’s pretty good.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“Needs a chorus.”
“Ithasa chorus.”
“Let’s hear it, then.”
“Absolutely not!” My pulse thunders so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if he can hear it from six feet away. “I didn’t know anyone was still in here. Obviously. You weren’t supposed to be listening!”