Sequel: Two Lives As One
Status: Check out Two Lives As One! Picks up at Christmas time after the events in this story :)

One Life To Live

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I watched her run away from me. Her movements rigid and I could make out her shoulders trembling, her hand swiping across her face. Crying.

With the way I was feeling right now, I wanted to do the same.

My gut wrenched as I pinched the bridge of my nose, and all I could think was; she’s gone. She’s run away from me. She’s not coming back…I’d never told anyone I’ve loved them before. I just did with Melanie. I realized in that moment that there was no shittier feeling than pouring your heart open to a girl and watching her reject it all and walk away.

All the things I had to constantly remind myself about whenever she’d kiss me, or gaze at me with those incredible eyes…the things I should’ve said sooner, but couldn’t. Would it have changed anything? Would she run as fast as she did now, or would she accept it and try to live with it? Should I sprint after and kiss her until she promises she’ll stay with me? Until she promises to never leave me again? Should I demand that she sees the way that I love her – how she was the one thing I looked forward to in my day? The undeniable questions bombarded through my head and I had to shut them off. I had to shut my feelings the fuck up.

And I only knew one way to do that.

I kicked my Cadillac into gear, and sped out of the lot wanting to leave it all behind. I had to cast away any memory of Melanie – she wasn’t a part of me anymore, I told myself. She didn’t have any value in my life anymore. She said it was over. That’s how I was going to treat this – like it is over and she’s not going to enter my mind anymore.

My speedometer rose to 79, then 80, and continued…at this point, I could give a shit if the cops were to pull me over. I’d outrace their slow asses. Plus, it helped that I had connections with four different cops in this area. If it was one of them, they’d let me off with a slap of my hand. My grip tightened on my steering wheel and the urge to beat someone intensified. I hoped Dad had some uncompleted meetings planned tonight.

Dad…Mom, the dinner…

Shit. They probably had no clue we’d left until right about now. Though, I could care less. Vinny – that fuckin’ asshole – could most likely guess what happened. How could he not be able to connect the dots? And why’d he have to fuckin’ choose the first dinner I took Mel-

No.

I mentally shook my head. Don’t talk about it, I scolded myself. The last thing I wanted to have happen was to get to the bar and cry like some wimp-ass baby in front of the guys. I was Lance Capra. I wasn’t going to cry over some girl.

I saw a local bar that I usually frequent after ordeals with The Business, and turned a sharp right entering the parking lot. I slid my black Caddy into one of the narrow parking spaces, and all but kicked my door open. Slamming it shut, I hit my lock, and opened the door – the bell ringing annoyingly on my arrival. Sid, the bar-keeper’s head shot up and his welcoming smile turned dubious as he saw the bent look on my face.

I sat atop of the old, weathered, leather bar stools and Sid meandered over to me, cleaning a glass with a towel in one hand. “What’ll it be, Lance?”

“Double scotch on the rocks,” I muttered, cracking my knuckles.

“A double, huh?” He raised his eyebrows, “Had a rough day, Lance?”

“Can I just get a drink, or what?” I really wasn’t in the mood to talk about my problems. My tone bordering on violent, and Sid got the hint.

“All right, man.” He showed his palms, and shook his head while breaking open a bottle of Johnny Walker Red. I massaged my temples, and heard a buzzing in my pocket. I sighed heavily, and waited for another minute until I conceded and dug for my phone. I flipped it open, and saw the message sent from Paul: Where are you at?

I texted him back, saying: At the bar.

Within thirty seconds, I got a message back: Okay.

Okay? I was expecting more of a, what the hell for? Or a, get your ass back at Ma’s. None the less, I shoved my phone back in my jean pocket and caught the glass of scotch that Sid sent down to me. I gulped the contents in one or two sittings, and gave Sid a sidelong look that said, keep ‘em coming. He sighed, and shook his head once more. What the hell was up with that? Why should he give a fuck what happened in my life? As long as I was payin’ for the booze he shouldn’t give a shit. My hand clenched into a fist, and barely controlled my raging temper.

After I had consumed about four or five – it’s not like I could care to remember – shots of scotch, I heard the jangling of the bell on the door. Tilting my head to one side, I caught a glimpse of Paul’s figure waving his hand to Sid. I sighed, and put my head on my left hand. What the hell was Paul doing here? I said, at the bar. How could he have known which one? I’ve been known to go to quite a few.

He grunted and pulled into the chair on the right of me. “I’ll just have a beer, Sid.” Sid nodded, and turned to his treasure trough of alcohol to make a selection. He waited until I finally decided to look up at him. “What’s goin’ on, little brother?”

“Why the fuck does anything have to be goin’ on?” I mumbled.

“’Cause no one leaves Ma’s damn good cookin’ to go to some ratty bar.” He explained - a humorous glint in his eye. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it has something to do with your Melanie?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t wanna goddamn talk about it, ‘kay?” My tone held more frustrated, and impatient. Even as I said this, I knew Paulie was going to get an answer out of me. Not just an answer; a whole description of what happened and how it did. That was how Paul operated. I had to deflect it though, just in case he would back off on me. I prayed he’d extend that common courtesy to me tonight.

“Well, we’re going to – whether it’s right now or in a week, so you might as well spill, bro.” I mentally groaned. Nope, Paul was going to get his way. I also had a feeling he already knew what had happened, but he just wanted to find out the real story from me.

I gritted my teeth, and stared at the petite waitress placing an order on the revolving hanger. “She ended it.”

“Mmm,” Paul responded, his voice gloomy. “Well Vinn told me what went down between you and him so I figured, y’know…”

“Yeah, well, she heard everything he said.” I let out a bitter laugh that held no humor. “Which was a problem seein’ as I didn’t tell her shit about The Business.”

“And she did the freak out.” He concluded as a statement.

“Pretty much.” I rubbed my eyes, and ordered another whiskey as I felt the memories coming back. I didn’t want to relapse. I slugged half of it down. It was quiet between us; the only thing I heard was my heavy breathing.

“She gave you an ultimatum or what?” Paul inquired.

“She said she didn’t agree that,” I quieted my voice, “killing people is right. She didn’t understand that this is a lifestyle. She said I had a choice to do the right thing and I…well, wasn’t doing it.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, that’s the instinct reaction. She say anything else?” He was purposely pushing for what I didn’t want to bring up. The harder things to swallow that didn’t have to do with The Business at all.

“Paul…” I shook my head, my eyes glazing over as I stared at the basketball game that was playing on a nearby TV set.

He sighed, “She said she still loves you?”

Hearing the word love just made my throat go thick. Then came the heavy heart ache that I didn’t want any part of. Goddammit - I knew I didn’t have enough alcohol in me for this kind of talk yet. “I don’t know,” was all I could say.

“Did she mention it at all?”

I glared in his direction, and finally admitted. “Yes, kind of.”

“Good,” he nodded, taking this as valuable information, “then we can still make plans.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Bromance would be a good word for this chapter (:
I love Paulie *sigh* He's a good brother when it comes down to it!
Be updating
Love x.x.
Lauren