“However, they’ve decided to go with another candidate. I’m sorry and I wish you the best of luck in your employment search,” Wilma said, not sounding sorry in the least. Because what did she care that I was floundering and broke?

“Oh. Okay,” I said, feeling the ground fall out from underneath me. “ Did the other candidate have more experience? Was it my criminal record? What reason did they have for not hiring me? Because I’d really like to know,” I demanded, not able to curb my temper. And there she was, good ol’ Ellie McCallum, ready and willing to take your balls off.

“I can’t really discuss their reasons, only that you weren’t chosen,” Wilma responded, sounding flustered.

“The story of my goddamned life,” I muttered.

“Excuse me?” Wilma asked.

I didn’t even bother to say anything else. I promptly hung up the phone and stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, feeling like I was going to implode.

It was a shitty job. I would have hated working for a douche like Mr. Lambert. Answering phones would have been totally mind numbing.

Why weren’t any of my efforts to make myself feel better working?

I threw my phone on the kitchen table, covered my face with my hands and screamed. And it was loud. Top of my lungs, deep from the gut, loud.

I kicked a chair and it clattered to the floor. Murphy ran into the other room, hiding from my violent outburst.

I dropped my hands to my side and looked around the kitchen. Flynn’s kitchen. In his house. The one I lived in because he wanted me to be there.

I was here because of him.

But suddenly I couldn’t be here anymore.

I grabbed my keys and all but ran to my car. Then I was driving and not really going anywhere. I drove through a town that used to be my home and now felt like a place that belonged in another life.

I tried calling Flynn at work, reaching for my lifeline as I had done so many other times before. But it went straight to his voicemail.

Because he had a life that was completely separate from me. He had a job. He had something that fulfilled him.

What did I have?

Flynn.

That was it.

Shit, when had I become one of those women? The type whose entire existence revolved around some guy?

Even if that guy was the love of my life, I wanted more for myself than just that. I needed it.

Why was it that after I fought so hard to forge a future, to be someone different, that I was still running in circles with no clear plan?

At least the old Ellie didn’t hurt. She didn’t feel pain or disappointment. She was numb and disconnected. And right now, with my latest rejection ringing in my ears, that didn’t sound half bad.

What was wrong with wanting to forget? Just for a little while.

I pulled my car up in front of Woolly Mammoth’s Bar and Grill. It looked as tired and seedy as ever.

Was I really going to go in there?

It was only a drink.

I wasn’t planning to mainline crack in the toilets.

One drink and I’d go home.

I just needed to not feel for a little while. Before I had to face Flynn and admit how fucked I really was.

I walked inside the dimly lit bar and looked around. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, so the place was all but dead.

The after work crowd hadn’t shown up yet. The place smelled the same as I remembered it. Like stale beer and depression.

I had spent a lot of time in this bar, drinking, getting into fights, acting like a fool. But that didn’t seem so bad right now. At least I hadn’t been hanging onto delusional hopes that I could do something better.

“What can I get ya?”

I looked at the unfamiliar bartender and asked for a whiskey sour, my old staple.

After getting my drink, I hopped up on a stool and stirred it with the tiny cocktail straw.

“Hey babe, can I buy you a drink?”

I glanced up at the middle-aged pick up master and glared. “I think I’m covered. Now go away,” I said, my tone a clear warning.

The guy, clearly a few cards short of a deck, wasn’t getting my very obvious point. He sat down beside me and leaned in close. He smelled like too much cologne used to cover up sweat and swamp ass.

“You look familiar. Do you come in here a lot?” he asked, angling his face close to mine.

“If you don’t back the fuck off, I’m going to reach down those too tight pants, grab ahold of your balls, and shove them up your ass.” I bared my teeth.

“Shit girl, you sure know how to talk dirty,” Mr. Pick-Up Line grinned, his teeth stained from tobacco.

“I’d listen to her. She’s been known to take out bigger dudes than you, old man,” someone piped up.

I looked behind my unwelcome admirer and suppressed a groan. It was Shane Nolan. Not my idea of a knight in shining armor.

“Oh come on. She’s just a cute little thing,” the stupid jackass beside me laughed.

“Okay, well let’s try this another way,” Shane said. He grabbed the guy by the back of the shirt and hauled him off the stool and shoved him hard.

“I’m not lookin’ for no trouble,” the middle-aged jerk stuttered.

“Then get lost,” Shane replied, giving him a menacing smile.

The guy scampered away, and I almost wished he’d come back. I could tolerate his disgusting advances a hell of a lot more than Shane’s. I had spent years avoiding his overtly sexual come ons. And I wasn’t in the mood to deal with them now.

I went back to sipping on my drink and ignoring everyone around me. Particularly my former acquaintance.