Give Me Grace (Give Me #3) - Kate McCarthy Page 0,2
sex, on my day off, for this shit?” I bitched. “Have I told you that I really don’t like you right now?”
The day was overcast and the humidity was not only sapping away the last of my remaining energy, it was increasing the desire to strangle Travis until his eyeballs popped from his head—which I planned to do, just as soon as our target was acquired, taken down, and I’d stretched out the cramps in my legs.
“Have I told you that you’re acting like a little bitch?” Travis countered.
I risked a glance sideways. Travis had his blond hair tied off his face. Arms up, gun cocked, he tilted his head to the side, bright green eyes flat as he tracked our target through his viewfinder. I knew without a doubt when he pulled the trigger he would find his mark. Travis was just that guy, the one who did whatever it took to have your back.
He’d had mine from the moment we met in our first year at Charles Sturt University. I took him down in an illegal high tackle in rugby league tryouts. Shoving me off, he growled a curse and threw a punch that would’ve rendered a lesser man unconscious. Not me though. I came from a background where crippling blows were the accepted form of communication. I could’ve taken it ten times over if I had to, but Travis wasn’t looking to go another ten rounds. He’d simply held out a hand and hauled me to my feet. A slap on the back, a beer at the university’s pub, and we were friends.
That was a defining moment in my life—meeting Travis Valentine—because just under a year later I almost died. God knows I should have. If Travis hadn’t had my back, I would have. I’d wanted to.
Why? Because I’d made a promise I failed to deliver on. That didn’t seem so bad, I know. Promises were made to be broken, right? Wrong. Not when breaking them meant you failed so fucking bad, you lost your entire world in the blink of an eye.
No words could ever encompass the magnitude of what that felt like. It was like you were somehow still breathing even though your heart wasn’t beating anymore. It was like becoming a whole other person you didn’t know. It was like losing yourself, and when you lost yourself, there was no coming back.
I was at the Coogee Bay Hotel on summer break from uni when it hit me that I didn’t have to try and come back. I didn’t have to pretend I was okay. I didn’t have to live through losing everything. I didn’t have to fight anymore.
The sudden realisation was a relief, and surrounded by friends at our table, I simply stood up and walked out. The bottle of booze in my hand slipped to the ground outside. Beer sprayed everywhere, glass shattering and skidding across the ground. Tripping over, I fell on the broken shards, but I was so fucked-up I didn’t even notice.
“Come on, Casey. Up you get.”
A hand gripped my bicep and I looked up. There was Travis, once again hauling me to my feet. I wanted to tell him to let go, just this once, because I didn’t want to get up again, and I was okay with that.
“Travis,” I slurred. Shrugging off his arm, I staggered to my feet and grabbed the beer out of his hand. I saluted him with it. “To the best friend a useless fuck like me could ever ask for.”
Two girls walked by on their way inside. Bracing my arm against the wall, my eyes fell on girl number two. Long, wild red hair, miles of leg, and a full, curvy body showcased in a tight, black dress.
Looking me over, she smiled at me as they passed, but it slipped off her face when my hand gave out and I lurched sideways into the wall. They disappeared inside.
“Christ, Casey,” Travis muttered, grabbing for his beer. “Haven’t you had enough?”
I looked him in the eye. “You’re right, Travis.” Just like you always are. “I have had enough.”
Panic flooded his eyes at my definitive tone. I hated letting him down. Travis had thought time out from classes, hanging by the beach and surfing, would be some kind of bullshit rejuvenation. It was nice getting away from everything. It was nice having a best friend as well, but not if it meant failing him too.