Thoughtless (UNDER EDITING)

Chapter 27 (Under Editing)

{Deans POV}

Really? Did she really just get all comfortable with Sam in front of me? I can't believe her. She should know that I love her, and I thought that she loved me. This can't be the way things come to an end with us. She means the world to me, and I haven't realized that until she killed that Shtriga in front of me. She saved me. I owe her my life, and I want her to be a part of it. Whether it be with me or not; but she cannot be with Sammy. It's not fair, and it's not how things are supposed to work out. We were supposed to be broken together. Her broken memory and my Mark issue could have helped us get through so much; but now my Mark has gotten me to do something I never thought I could bring myself to do to her. I hurt her, not only emotionally, but physically as well. Whatever little bit of trust she had for me is long gone by now, and I have a feeling that I can't take it back this time.

The local bar smells like whiskey and the lights are dim, setting the mood and allowing me to relax; or try to relax the best that I can, anyway. The last time I went to a bar, it didn't end so well, so this time I'm going to keep to myself.

I slide into the barstool at the very end of the counter and greet the bartender with a slight head nod. He heads over to me and wipes off the counter in front of me as if it were dirty from earlier patrons.

"Straight whiskey," I grunt and glance up at him.

He nods and snaps at a blond across the bar, and with a light country twang, he calls, "Kirby, would you mind takin' care of this gentleman? I need to go on break."

The bartender saunters away from me and I can tell that he doesn't like women just by the way he walks, to each his own I guess.

Kirby quickly bounces over to me with a huge smile on her face, "Well, hello there handsome. What can I do for you?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose and state again, "Straight whiskey, please."

She straightens her posture, "Comin' right up, darlin'."

I look down at my phone and sigh when I see I don't have any messages or missed calls from Cassie. She probably doesn't ever want to talk to me again.

"Straight whiskey for the cutie patootie," she gently sets the shot glass in front of me and leans over the counter. Her white button up shirt actually conserves her body, unlike the demon spawn from the last bar. "Now, what would you need a drink in the middle of the day for? Somethin' goin' on with you?"

I smirk and shrug her off.

She smacks her lips and puts her hands on her hips, "Now don't you give me that. What you tell me, stays with me. I wouldn't go wander off and tell some business that wasn't mine to tell, Tex. Consider me your therapist," she winks at me with a quaint little smile and continues, "and you don't even have to pay me to listen...yet." She lets out a little giggle.

What exactly is she trying to get at? It's like all bartenders can immediately tell when someone's life is in shambles. All they want to do is get you to buy more drinks and get a bigger tip before it's all over.

"Listen, sweet heart," I say to her after I swallow my shot and clench my jaw, "just because you sit here all day long, doesn't mean that other people are going to. We all have lives that we need to get back to after we leave here, no matter how screwed up they may be. With that being said, whatever ploy you're trying to convey to me, it isn't gonna work."

Her smile fades from her face and her brow creases with slight concern.

"I will leave you alone if you want me to, but I can tell when a person has somethin' that they need to get off their chest," she crosses her arms over her chest, "you think I wanna be twenty-one and workin' at some bar in this no name town? No. I'm doin' this to get through college until I can become a psychologist professionally," she raises her blond eyebrow and I can tell that she is fed up already, "so if you wanna sit there and be a dick to someone who is willin' to hear you out, you got another thing comin' mister. There are gonna be a lot of ups and downs in your life, and if you can't roll with the punches, then you better get the hell out of dodge."