Page 2 of Bourbon Truths
I couldn’t wear this cloak of guilt and fully give myself to her, and there was not a chance in hell I would be sharing my past sins with Lyla. I couldn’t take the judgment from her, not from her. I needed Lyla to idolize me, to look at me with those green eyes and cherish me.
I was a selfish bastard, but it was the one thing I held on to in this bleak fucking world.
I brought the slowly emptying glass of whiskey I was clutching to my lips. The amber burn of the liquid glided down my throat, reminding me that even though I lived in a numb state, I was still alive.
Fuck, I shouldn’t be.I would be rotting in jail right now if it weren’t for Jett and his money.
I pressed a hand hard into my forehead, trying to rid of the pounding headache taking over my body while music played behind me. Goldie was celebrating her first showing in an art gallery. The Jett Girls, her friends, were dancing, drunk off their asses, and Jett was sitting next to me, trying to get me to enjoy myself.
“You’re bringing down the morale, Kace,” Goldie shouted from across the room.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I mumbled as I took another sip of my drink.
“At least Diego isn’t talking to Lyla anymore,” Jett whispered to me.
Yeah, thank fuck for that.
Diego, our good friend, had spent a good half of the night talking to Lyla, making her laugh, and giving her the kind of attention she deserved. It wasn’t until I physically pulled him away and talked to him privately that he finally took off, feeling cock-blocked.
I’d straight up built a fortress around Lyla and let everyone at the party recognize my caveman-like gesture. She wasn’t very happy about it, given the ripe mood she was in and the death glares she was sending my way. I didn’t have to face her to know she was shooting daggers at me. I could feel them sticking in my back.
It was a dick move, especially since I wasn’t allowing Lyla to be a part of my life. But being the dick I was, I couldn’t allow anyone else near her, not until I was able to get her out of my system, which I knew deep down was going to be never.
“Good thing he left,” I muttered.
“Are you going to drink your night away again?” Jett asked, always concerned about me.
“It’s not like I don’t do it every night. You just don’t see it.”
“You think I don’t see the empty whiskey bottles in your room? I’m not stupid, Kace.”
“Well, then act stupid,” I said gruffly. “Nothing is going to change. You know that, so why do you keep trying?”
“Hoping I get lucky one day. Get my best friend back.”
“What you see is what you get. Deal with it,” I stated, knowing fully well I spoke the truth.
While working at the Lafayette Club, I’d found it easy to deal with the women in my life, never committing to them. But since I met Lyla, I’d felt more irritated and volatile than ever. I used to be able to hold on to a good mood for at least an hour or two, but now, knowing there was one woman out there who held me by the fucking balls and I couldn’t do anything about it, it made me outright unbearable to be around.
The only distraction I had was taken away from me and in its place was Justice. Justice, the community center, where I now worked, was almost complete. The construction company was moving along quickly with the infrastructure, putting us on track with the opening. The actual main center would be available to begin arranging for our grand opening shortly. The center wouldn’t be open to the general public yet, but we would be able to go inside and start organizing, something I was looking forward to because I would be able to keep the girls busy and out of my business.
But more importantly, I wanted to keep myself busy, even though I was feeling uneasy about the new venture. At first, I was excited, proud of my friend for such an idea, but the closer the opening came, the more uneasy I felt. Was I really cut out for running a community center offering second chances when I wouldn’t grant myself one?
Lately, the days seemed to drag, leaving me to my thoughts, which were toxic. If I was left alone to my own musings too long, I slowly drowned myself in the what-ifs that were constantly rolling around in my head.
What if I’d handled my life differently? What if I hadn’t put all my trust in one person? What if I hadn’t allowed myself to be provoked?
What if I hadn’t punched him?
What if I hadn’t killed a man with my fists?
Would he be reading his little girl a story right now? Would he be kissing her on the forehead and tucking her in? Would she be looking at him, seeing him as the one and only man in her life?
Little Madeline. Would her life be perfect if it weren’t for me?
Most definitely her life would be better off if she still had her dad, but God took the wrong man that night.
My biggest regret, a shame that would haunt me for eternity. A regret I would never speak of, for I was a private man, a reserved man, a man of few words, someone who deserved hatred rather than pity.
