Chapter 2

Mason

The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, but the pain was a welcome distraction. I slammed the empty glass down on the counter, nodding for the bartender to pour me another cup. He hesitated for a moment - probably wondering if I’d had enough - but he didn’t say anything. They never do. Not here. This was the kind of place where questions stayed locked behind pursed lips, where broken men came to drown themselves in cheap liquor and dim lighting.

I was already three glasses in, but it wasn’t working. The ache in my chest hadn’t dulled, and the image of her face kept flashing in my mind. I hadn't set my eyes on her since that night three months ago. I'd tried to visit her on different occasions after she'd started her sentence but I'd ended up reversing the car and going back home each time. There hadn't been a trial because Lydia had plead guilty. How could she not? She'd murdered my stepfather in cold blood, right in front of my mother and sister.

I could never forgive her for that.

No matter how many times I swallowed the whiskey, the memory clung to me like a leech. A part of me hated her for taking matters into her own hands. We'd promised to spend the rest of our lives together, but that was no longer happening now that she was locked up. I took a swig of the alcohol the bartender had poured out, downing the entire content of the cup in one go. I debated asking him to pour me another glass but thought against it, for now.

“Hey, handsome,” a sultry voice called out, breaking through my haze. I lazily looked up, fixing my attention on the woman in front of me. She stood leaning casually against the bar, her lips painted a deep crimson. Her dress - or what little of it there was - clung to her like a second skin, glittering as she moved. Definitely a stripper. I could tell by the confidence in her stance, the way her hips swayed like she owned the room. “You look like you could use some company,” she purred, brushing a strand of her obviously fake blonde hair over her shoulder.

I laughed dryly, shaking my head. “You’re not wrong.”

She took it as an invitation, sliding onto the stool next to me. Her perfume was strong, a mix of vanilla and something sharper. It made my head spin. Or maybe that was the alcohol. “What’s got you so down?” she asked, trailing a finger along the rim of my glass. I didn’t answer. What was I supposed to say? That my wife was locked away for a crime I couldn’t bring myself to fully hate her for? That I was here, drinking myself into oblivion because I didn’t know how to face the mess my life had become?

Instead, I let her keep talking. Let her lean in closer, her hand grazing my arm. Her touch was light, teasing, and for a brief moment, I let myself lean into it. Let her play her game. I glanced toward the bar’s back hallway, dimly lit and deserted. The manager wasn’t in sight - probably dealing with some other drunk fool. “Come on,” I murmured, my lips brushing her ear. “Let's hurry to the bathroom before someone notices.” Her grin widened, and she took my hand, immediately leading me away from the room. I let her pull me into the small, grimy space, the door clicking shut behind us. She pressed against me, her hands roaming, her lips finding my neck.

I groaned when she reached down and began rubbing me through my pants. I could immediately feel my dick hardening at her touch. She drew her lips away from my neck, trying to kiss me. I subtly buried my face in her neck, groaning loudly in an effort to distract her from the fact that I didn't want her lips on mine. She took my actions as an encouragement and began stroking me even faster. I pressed my lips together when she expertly unbuckled my pants, slipping her hand beneath my boxer briefs. I cursed beneath my breath as I felt the soft skin of her palm wrapping around my cock.

She gripped me harder, working my length from the base to the tip. I let my hand trail her body, squeezing her tits in my hand. Her tits were soft but nearly as soft as... Lydia's. The name of the woman I'd gotten married to was enough to snap me out of my lustful haze. I gripped the woman's wrist, pushing her hand away from my cock. "I-I can't do this," I whispered apologetically, trying to catch my breath. She stepped away from me, and I expected her to get pissed, but she was only looking at me like she was trying to figure me out.

"Hhmm," She tilted her head to the side. "I saw the wedding band," She said, gesturing towards the ring on my left middle finger. "But I figured you probably just weren't to let it go yet. It's your wife you're not willing to let go yet, isn't it?" I drew in a steadying breath, unwilling to bother coming up with a reply. I adjusted my pants, fastened my belt securely, and headed straight out of the bathroom. The bartender raised an eyebrow when I came back to the bar but didn't say a word. I signaled him to pour me a fresh cup.

I'd taken only three more when the room began spinning.

I heard the bartender curse beneath his breath. "Hey man, you might want to ask someone to come get you while you still can." I ignored him, downing the next shot. As if on cue, my phone rang in my pocket. I took it out, muttering a curse when I realized it was Luke. The bastard always seemed to know when I was losing it. I stumbled across the room and stepped outside, closing the club door behind me to answer Luke's call. I put some distance between me and the loud music before swiping my thumb across the screen.

"It's one o'clock in the morning, where the hell are you?" He demanded the second the call went through. I pulled my phone away from my ears. One? No shit, the dickhead was actually right. "I'm at that dive on 7th." He released a colorful string of curses, and I might have laughed if my head wasn't already banging. I'd left town on purpose, wanting space away from everyone. "I'll be in my car," I informed him, ending the call before he had a chance to say anything else.

I felt a pinprick of guilt at the thought that he was going to drive all the way out here to come get me. I would never have strayed this far from town if they had just given me a bit of space like I'd asked. It's been three months for goodness' sake, I was sick of how they constantly kept tabs on me. Like they didn't trust me to take care of myself. Reminding myself that this was their fault not mine, I slowly made my way to my car.

I shut the doors and locked myself in, my head swimming.

A second later, I was out like a light.