✓ [18+] WHEN YOU SAY NOTHING AT ALL

XXIII. For The Love Of God, Just Leave Me Alone

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XXIII. For The Love Of God, Just Leave Me Alone

"Heather honey, you can leave early today. Can you go by Phillips for me and grab the stuff for dinner tonight? I'm thinking Nana's spaghetti for dinner," my mom beams as she walks up to me and gently rubs my arm.

"Sure," I smile, giving her a warm hug before grabbing my stuff and heading to the store.

After Nate and I talked last night, we had a family meeting where I explained everything to my mom and Bex. Both of them cried with guilt for not noticing sooner. Bex was even worse because she felt like she made me go out drinking with her when I was busy struggling with it. When I explained what I wanted to do, my brother gave me the information I needed to seek help from a professional. Now here I am, someone who went to school to be a psychologist, is now seeking help from one. I guess even shrinks need a shrink sometimes. I'd called them this morning and set up an appointment. I even made an appointment for A.A meetings. Never thought I'd be needing to go there but I'm willing to go through whatever counseling, whether it's individual or group, to get through this. I need to move on with my life, in a healthy way.

When I finally get to Phillips, I'm casually walking through the aisles with a smile on my face as I grab all the ingredients I need to make spaghetti for tonight. Now that I'm officially sober and in a better mood, I want to cook again like I use to. I'm grabbing the vegetables for the sauce from the fresh foods section when someone walks up behind me. My arm is grabbed and I'm quickly turned around, catching me off guard. Bryan is glaring at me as he puts his hands on my arms, holding me in place. For the first time in three months, when I look into his blue eyes, I don't miss him or want back what we had. For the first time, the feelings I had for him before have vanished.

As I look up at him, I notice his eyes are bloodshot from heavily drinking recently. He smells of alcohol and like he hasn't showered in a few days, his light brown hair tangled in a dirty mess. My God has he gone down hill. I can't help but feel sorry for him. Not that it's enough to take him back out of pity, but I hate to see anyone waisting their life away.

"What do you want Bryan? I'm kind of busy right now," I ask calmly and jerk my arms out of his hold. I rub them, crossing my arms over my chest and notice the red marks on them from his hands. He better hope they don't bruise again.

"Oh am I not good enough to be in your presence now? What do you think you're better than me now because you have some firefighter boyfriend? You think he's better than me? Well your boyfriend needs to watch his fucking back!" he snarls at me, invading my personal space. I can't help laughing to myself at his empty threats.

"You won't do anything Bryan. You're too much of a coward to go through with it," I laugh and turn away from him, looking through the tomatoes. He grabs my arm once again to turn me towards him. There's anger in his eyes and for a second I think he might hit me but he restrains himself.

"I wouldn't bet on that Heather. He will get what's coming to him in time. I know his weakness now," he grins down at me and I roll my eyes at his cocky attitude. Carter doesn't have any weaknesses. He's one of the strongest men I know.

"Whatever Bryan," I shrug and turn away, no longer wanting to give him the benefit of irritating me. I feel him behind me and he gets so close to my ear, I can feel his breath move my hair.

"You know Hev, he will get tired of you. He'll get tired of waiting. He won't want a woman who can't give him what he wants," he sneers quietly, his words making me freeze.

"You're fucked up, just like me. No smart person wants to deal with an emotional, alcoholic, barren of a woman. So I'd just give up already. He'll never love you, not like I did," he snickers and I turn around quickly to smack him across the face. I'm surprised at myself initially but when I think about the hateful things he just said to me, hell what he's been saying to me for months, I don't give a damn how immature my action was.

"Shut the hell up Bryan. You don't know anything about Carter or how he feels about me. Why do you care who I'm seeing anyways? You made your decision three months ago on our wedding day, now deal with it. You have your whore now to satisfy your needs, so go home to her," I spit at him and he gets an amused look on his face.

"You're right, I do, and at least she can give me a better life than you ever could. Have a nice day Heather," he glares down at me as he turns around. Before he gets to the end cap of the aisle, he turns around and gives me a wicked smile.

"Oh Hev, your go-to drink is on aisle twelve, happy drinking," he laughs and walks away.

I'm so frustrated and hurt right now I could scream. His words echo in my head, making me start to doubt myself. I begin to doubt what Carter and I have. Bryan is right though, I am fucked up, and Carter will get tired of dealing with me, tired enough to eventually leave. What am I talking about? We aren't even a couple. I won't let him in and eventually he'll give that up too. What if he finds someone else before I'm ready to let him in?

Before I make it to the register, my nerves are shot and my body is shaking. Fuck, I need a drink right this second. I'm feeling the pressure and I don't know if I can handle this overwhelming feeling of failing. I begin to think about what plans I had and how I'm about to blow all of them away. No one is behind me in line and the girl in front of me is halfway done with her basket when I decide to quickly walk over to aisle twelve and grab the bottle of Jack Daniels. I feel my heart shatter to the ground as I get ready to throw away the three days I was sober.

When I make it out to the car and put everything in the trunk. I grab the bottle and bring it with me to the front seat. I sit in my car for a few minutes staring at it, pondering my decisions. My mouth is watering and I can taste it on my tongue. As I open it up, I have an internal battle with myself again, going through the pros and cons of tasting the warm whiskey, feeling the burn as it cascades down my throat.

I shouldn't do this because it's not the answer to my problems but it'll also make the pain go away, even if it's for a little bit. I shouldn't because it's an unhealthy addiction, a crutch, but am I really an alcoholic? I haven't been doing it for a long time like others. That's a good enough excuse right? All of these thoughts go through my head as I lift the open bottle to my lips. However, before I swig it back, one person comes to mind, Carter. The look of disappointment and hurt in his green eyes as I give up on myself, as I give up on us.

I instantly break down in the front seat of my car and finally let myself have a good cry without the taste of whiskey on my tongue for once.