My Wreckage: Camp Nanowrimo (July)- In Editing

Chapter 22: When She Confronted Me (Troy)

Troy

(Present)

It was times like this I wished I was smart enough to keep a shotgun in my place. Not that I had ever been robbed but people didn't just walk around in the middle of the night. I hobbled to the front dining room. I scrolled the dark room, and my attention went to the bar after I heard a noise.

A figure made my heart plummet to the floor. "What are you doing?"

She jerked around and if looks could kill I would be a dead man, and maybe that was best for all of us.

"You already staking claims?" I growled. "This place isn't for sale, so you, Satan, and his spawn can go back to hell where you came from."

"Don't call her that." she growled snatching a bottle off of the shelf, and then slapping a glass on the bar table. She started filling the glass.

"You're starting a tab, you know that." Yeah, I was going to bill her. If she would have just come here under normal circumstances we could have shared some drinks and laughs about the past, but now that she was trying to take everything from me, she could go to hell.

"There isn't a damn thing open tonight." She brought the glass to her lips.

"I'm not open either."

She laughed angrily.

I leaned my hands on the bar. "I mean it Scarlett."

"I'm running a tab right?" She said refilling her glass, and then digging in her purse and pulling out a card and slapping it on the counter. Truthfully, I wasn't going to charge her but the fact that the card red Wesley M Fredericks was interesting. "Knock yourself out." She walked away with her glass and bottle.

"Satan's feeding your habit, huh?"

"He is now." She said noticing the envelope on the table cockling her head.

I walked to get it. I didn't want her to see it. "Scar I..."

She picked it up and studied it. Rolling her fingers over the front. It was the letter she had written, that I never opened. I didn't know what to say. What could I say? She bit the side of her lip as she looked at it hard.

"Scar I..."

She looked at me with a glaze over her eyes, her brows lowered and her lips eerily curved into a smile. "Wow!"

I shrugged. "I guess that doesn't matter too much now does it."

Her eyes fell as did my heart. "Why would it?" She huffed fanning the letter, "You are such a damn coward, Troy."

"So that's what you came to tell me?"

She walked toward me as a tear betrayed her. My fingers itched to brush it away, that was his job. I was brought back to a day that I wasn't there for her. I felt like shit then and I felt like shit now. It didn't matter what she was doing to me, I had spent these years thinking about her. I was questioning if I had made the right decision letting her go. This wasn't the woman I met that summer. She would never do this to me.

"You didn't even bother to open it?" She flung it at me. "I guess I didn't matter." She brushed a tear from her face.

"Is that why? You're mad at me?" I snapped, "You brought your husband to settle some vendetta?"

"He's not my husband Troy." She growled. "That asshole and I have no further ties. If you are worried about him, he's leaving in the morning. This is between you and me?"

What did that mean. She was going to try and take everything by herself. I straighten my poster to a business-like stance. "You have my attention Scar."

She looked in my eyes anger, pain and tears. "Why? What were you so afraid of?"

"I wasn't afraid." I growled, "That's what this is about? Scar, I wanted you to live your life. Maybe find love." I sighed. "Scar, I loved you. I just wanted what was best for you. I couldn't give you that."

"I wanted you, Troy." She sobbed, "But you you were a coward."

"That decision was the hardest one I ever had to make, Scar. I had to let you go!"

She walked toward the door and turned back her eyes filled with tears. "You didn't let me go, Troy. You pushed me away, just like you're doing now."

She walked out of the restaurant and the door closed behind her, once again taking my heart with her.

I picked up the envelope that she threw at me and studied it. Was she right? Was letting her go about her, or me?