Page 54 of Tormented
You just worked it out for yourself, you smart, smart man . . . .
Okay, easy on the sarcasm, asshole. You’re saying I want her because she doesn’t want me?
My devil slow claps my observation.
“Something troublin’ you?” Tap asks as he lifts his glass to his lips.
I fidget with the label on my bottle and frown. “Can I ask you somethin’?”
“Sure.”
“I mean, if I ask you somethin’ can you promise not to say anything to anyone about it?”
He eyes me skeptically. “Okay.”
What’s the matter? My devil taunts. Cat got your tongue . . .?
I beat a hand to my temple and then spill. “I don’t think I know what love really is.”
Tap chokes on his drink. “Sorry, man. I just . . . I didn’t expect that to be the kind of thing you were thinkin’ about.”
I bring both hands to my ears, elbows propped on the bar so that I effectively hide my face from him. Talking about these things is always hard, and exactly for that reason—people don’t see me as capable of anything but bein’ one crazy-ass motherfucker.
“I guess,” Tap answers. “Love is when you care more about the other person’s wellbeing than your own. It’s when you put their needs before yours without a second thought.” He frowns, appearing pained at the idea.
Interesting . . .
And equally as gutting. Because as much as I care about what happened to Abbey, until now I’ve still put my own intentions first. I pushed her to open up faster than she wanted to because I wanted to know. I forced myself on her because I wanted that intimacy, to know how she felt, what her taste was like. I mocked her flaws to make me laugh.
I didn’t do anything because it was what she wanted or needed.
I did it all for me.
How can that be love? How can that be anything other than my predisposition to be a selfish, thoughtless asshole?
I guess Dana didn’t change me quite as much as I’d hoped.
I guess there isn’t any chance at making a better man out of me.
May as well stick to what I know, keep going it alone, and forget all about anything but doing what I’m good at.
Making people hurt.