“I am. It’s a good thing he’s moved on. And they’ve obviously been seeing each other a while.” Okay, I needed to stop talking about him now.

Lila sipped her drink. “Mercedes isn’t new to the club, but she and Manic have only been spending time together the last couple weeks. That’s what Riff says, anyway.”

Mercedes? Of course, that was her name. She looked like a Mercedes. Manic belonged with a Mercedes. I felt nauseous. “Right.”

She gave my hand a squeeze.

I pulled it free, ignoring the sympathy in her eyes, and took a sip of my drink. Yes, besides my aunt, I’d avoided close relationships of any kind. But my girls had eased me into their circle. I’d been in a good place when I’d met them, the best I’d ever been, and doing a great job of managing my PTSD. One moment we’d been acquaintances, the next, I couldn’t imagine my life without them.

I’d continued to make progress, thanks to them, and I’d felt as if I were finally on solid ground, but then I’d lost Macy—and all my hard work crumbled.

“Manic’s actually headed out of town tomorrow,” Lila said.

“Is he?” I hated the idea of him not being here. God, what the hell was wrong with me?

“Some family thing.”

Manic was from Colorado. He’d left his home in the mountains when he was twenty-one years old. He had a lot of family there, but there was some issue with his father. I also knew he wanted to work at repairing their relationship.

He’d shared some of his past with me at different times since I’d met him. Lila was right. We’d always gravitated toward each other at parties or here at the bar, and we’d end up together talking. Then he’d make a move and I’d run the hell away—until I finally didn’t.

This trip would be a big deal for him.

I shifted in my seat, a weird feeling in my belly. A break from seeing him would be a good thing. I needed to pull my head out of the clouds. Fantasizing about the guy as much as I had been—okay, still was—was unhealthy.

I realized last night, while I stared at my bedroom ceiling, that I’d slipped back into old habits. Living in a fantasy world was something I’d done after I’d lost my family. Katelyn would say I was using a fantasy world to avoid the real one, and she’d be right.

The door of The Mule opened, and Cassy, Quinn, Trix, and Eves walked in, waving when they saw us. Quinn gave their drinks order to her husband, Bull, who owned the bar, then they came to join us.

Bull had a band playing tonight, and I was ready to cut loose. Anything to stop this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

* * *

A few hours and a lot of drinks later, the bar was packed, and we were all dancing. I was more than tipsy, and I didn’t care. In fact, I was going to drink a whole bunch more because this was awesome. We were awesome. Everything was awesome.

The song ended, and we cheered and stayed on the dance floor, waiting for the next song to start. Then whooped and started boogying again when the first chords rang out to a song we all loved.

Eves and I were laughing and singing. She grabbed my hand and spun me, and as I spun back, I stumbled. Laughing, I righted myself, then looked up—and froze.

Manic.

He stood at the edge of the dance floor, a head above everyone else—and he was watching me.

My massive, bearded, tattooed mountain man. He held a beer in his big fist, legs braced apart, and his gaze was laser focused on me. My knees did a little wobble.

I inwardly shook myself. God, I was an idiot. A broken, pathetic idiot.

I’d been full of shit, nothing was awesome. Everything sucked.

I wanted to run to him and jump into his strong arms and have him lift me off the ground and kiss the hell out of me, for him to make me forget again. To get lost in the pleasure he’d given me.

Someone touched his arm, and his gaze broke from mine to look down. Mercedes. She was smiling and saying something.

No, not my mountain man. Manic was someone else’s.

I realized I’d stopped dancing, standing there, staring at him like some desperate asshole. I quickly spun away and tried to dance with my friends again, but I’d lost all enthusiasm. In fact, I thought I might be about to cry.What the hell was wrong with me?

“Bathroom break,” I yelled to Eves. She gave me a thumbs-up, and I dashed across the dance floor, but instead of the bathroom, I rushed for the exit. I needed air. Suddenly, I felt like I was suffocating.

Tags: Sherilee Gray Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net