He stammered over his words as shock registered.
But I couldn’t stop. He didn’t understand. He didn’t get what had happened to me.
“Dillon might be a piece of shit, but even he told the truth, and you didn’t. It proves that I can’t rely on anyone else. You were drunk, and you couldn’t help anyone, Austin. I helped myself. I can rely on just one person, and that’s me.”
It was always just me. And maybe a part of me wanted to hear Austin’s words, to give in to what he was offering, but the other part of me, the part screaming in my ear, was saying to back out. To take care of myself and save everyone else from equal misery.
“Julia, please…”
“I don’t know what I deserve in a relationship, but it isn’t this. It’s not a drunk or an addict or a liar. I can’t do this again. So, just…let me go.”
I brushed past Austin, on my way out the door. His hand reached out to touch me, to stop me, but he let it drop.
I’d accomplished what I had to do. I just wished I didn’t hate myself so much for doing it.
Thirty-One
Austin
What the fuck had just happened to my life?
I stood alone in Julia’s apartment. She’d just left me. I couldn’t believe it. After everything…she’d walked.
Landon cleared his throat behind me. “Hey, man.”
I didn’t say anything. I was still in shock. Dillon/Evan hadn’t been as shocking as Julia breaking up with me.
How could she have done it? She had to know how I felt about her. Not that I’d come straight out and said it, but I’d sure acted like it. Then, one fucking fuckup had torn the house down.
“Austin,” Landon said, putting his hand on my shoulder, “let’s get you home.”
“She left me.”
“I…I know.” Landon sighed. “She’s going through a lot. Just give her some time. She’ll come back around.”
“No,” I said softly. “You didn’t hear her. She was certain. This was it.”
“I know that’s probably how she sounded. Trust me, I’ve been there. I never thought Heidi would talk to me again after the whole thing with work, but I gave it time. It worked out.”
“This isn’t some work bullshit that we can throw money at to fix the issue. This is a fucking ex who did a number on her so much so that she doesn’t think she deserves to be loved. She just remembered what that feels like. She’s not going to change her mind in the morning.”
“Why don’t we wait until the morning to find out?” Landon said reasonably. “You can sleep this off.”
“I can sleep off the alcohol, and I can sleep off the pain, but I’m not going to wake up and suddenly be back with Jules. Not after everything that happened tonight.”
Landon sighed. “Maybe not. But you need to heal. So, we need to get you to bed. You can come to our house, too, if you want.”
“No, she doesn’t want me there.”
“Okay. Then…your place.”
I didn’t argue with him. I just got into the Uber he’d called and let him drop me off at my house. Landon followed me inside just to make that Dillon didn’t happen to be there. But it was empty. A little too empty.
“Call me if you need anything. And, Austin?” Landon said.
“Yeah?” I said, staring, unseeing, at my empty house.
“I’m really sorry about tonight. I knew that you shouldn’t drink. I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it, and I should have seen what was happening. This is my fault. Patrick and I feel really awful that this all happened.”
“Don’t go blaming yourself. Either of you. There’s plenty of blame to throw around, but none of it is yours. I took the beer from that fuckface. I walked right into his plan. He might have been the catalyst, but I was the idiot who fell for it.”
Landon nodded seriously. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“No concussion. Just a fucked up body. I’ll be fine. Go home to your girl and…and take care of mine, okay?”
Landon sympathetically touched my shoulder once before departing.
At least Landon’s place had a state-of-the-art security system. Julia should feel safe there. Or safer at least.
Safer without me.
The next morning, my face was the size of a balloon, and I couldn’t tell where the pain started or ended. After a delirious, pain-riddled phone call, Jensen showed up bright and early. Thank fuck he was a vampire.
Jensen whistled when he saw me passed out on the couch. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I said, dripping with sarcasm.
“Much worse than last night.” Jensen said. He’d shown up around the same time the cops had gotten there and dealt with the aftermath at the bar.