feel like going home right now, but I certainly don't want to get drunk either. I don't lose control like that.
And that's when I realize my head is so fucked up for that exact reason. I'm losing control around Dig, and that is unacceptable. Strangely enough there are two reasons I'm slipping. One, I find myself wanting her, which I didn't give myself permission to do. Two, some of the control I'm letting go of comes from the fact that she is so damn strong herself. Our investigation…I've given half to her. I don't fucking do that. No, I always run the show.
Early in my Special Forces career, even in a fierce group of natural leaders, I stood out. My superiors saw my dominance in everything I did. I could run the fucking show, and was promoted accordingly . With Dig, she's my equal, again, without my permission. She throws me off balance in every way, which makes her both attractive and respected. Regardless of what else is happening in my life, Dig is a force. She's stronger than anything else around, which takes my control by half.
So here I am drinking. Good strategy, Pratt.
I grit my teeth and drink the glass of water Ledge sets in front of me. There are no bubbles to occupy my eyes. I look up at Ledger who is studying me from several feet away.
"Is there any point in asking?" he asks.
"Is there any point in pretending you haven't figured it out?" I grumble in return.
Ledger smirks, tells Jackson to run the bar, and goes to his office in the back. I know exactly what he's doing. The bar is getting busier by the minute, and Ledger knows me well enough to know I'll help Jackson on my night off. I want to tell him to fuck off again, but he's in the back. Less than five minutes later, Jacks is barely keeping up. I roll my eyes and make my way around the bar.
"Thanks, man," Jacks says simply. He's an easy guy to be around, which I'm sure is half the reason Ledger left me with him in the first place. I sigh and start serving drinks. Within minutes, the familiar rhythm of bartending eases some of my angst. I'm running the show, no matter how small this show is.
I don't see Ledger the rest of the night, which I know is deliberate on his part. When things slow down, I sip one more water at my stool incase Jacks needs help again, then I find going home difficult. I need to get control of this.
To that end, I call Ledger to come out then ask him for the next night off. He agrees, of course. He's a good guy. Tuesday will be for me and Shelby. I text her from the bar and tell her to be off work by six tomorrow, and that I would surprise her, and that she should dress up. I know she will love a night like that. Ledger eyes me as I text but I don't give a fuck what he's thinking.
With a single backward wave, I'm on my way home. I fall asleep rather quickly, thankful that I finally understand half my problem. I have no solution as of yet, but I have a path to follow to repair the rift in my head over what I want in my life. Dig is an equal partner in the project, but she's not part of the rest. When I'm done getting through this need to exorcise my old demons with this investigation, my feelings for Dig will leave along with my past. Shelby is who I'm with. I will maintain control of my world.
The next day I do some basic surveillance on a councilman. He's on his cell phone nearly the entire day, occasionally looking stressed. I have no doubt he knows about our little project, and he's most likely contacting anyone up the ladder who might be willing to keep him out of the mayhem we're creating. I smile at the panicked expression on his face the entire time.
By five-thirty, however, I'm in the shower planning my night out with Shel. I roll through my strategy point by point to make sure she and I have the best possible night together. I will romance her while we're out and make her feel special when we're home. I'm at her door at six o'clock sharp, dressed in crisp, charcoal suit. Shelby's eyes widen at the
And that's when I realize my head is so fucked up for that exact reason. I'm losing control around Dig, and that is unacceptable. Strangely enough there are two reasons I'm slipping. One, I find myself wanting her, which I didn't give myself permission to do. Two, some of the control I'm letting go of comes from the fact that she is so damn strong herself. Our investigation…I've given half to her. I don't fucking do that. No, I always run the show.
Early in my Special Forces career, even in a fierce group of natural leaders, I stood out. My superiors saw my dominance in everything I did. I could run the fucking show, and was promoted accordingly . With Dig, she's my equal, again, without my permission. She throws me off balance in every way, which makes her both attractive and respected. Regardless of what else is happening in my life, Dig is a force. She's stronger than anything else around, which takes my control by half.
So here I am drinking. Good strategy, Pratt.
I grit my teeth and drink the glass of water Ledge sets in front of me. There are no bubbles to occupy my eyes. I look up at Ledger who is studying me from several feet away.
"Is there any point in asking?" he asks.
"Is there any point in pretending you haven't figured it out?" I grumble in return.
Ledger smirks, tells Jackson to run the bar, and goes to his office in the back. I know exactly what he's doing. The bar is getting busier by the minute, and Ledger knows me well enough to know I'll help Jackson on my night off. I want to tell him to fuck off again, but he's in the back. Less than five minutes later, Jacks is barely keeping up. I roll my eyes and make my way around the bar.
"Thanks, man," Jacks says simply. He's an easy guy to be around, which I'm sure is half the reason Ledger left me with him in the first place. I sigh and start serving drinks. Within minutes, the familiar rhythm of bartending eases some of my angst. I'm running the show, no matter how small this show is.
I don't see Ledger the rest of the night, which I know is deliberate on his part. When things slow down, I sip one more water at my stool incase Jacks needs help again, then I find going home difficult. I need to get control of this.
To that end, I call Ledger to come out then ask him for the next night off. He agrees, of course. He's a good guy. Tuesday will be for me and Shelby. I text her from the bar and tell her to be off work by six tomorrow, and that I would surprise her, and that she should dress up. I know she will love a night like that. Ledger eyes me as I text but I don't give a fuck what he's thinking.
With a single backward wave, I'm on my way home. I fall asleep rather quickly, thankful that I finally understand half my problem. I have no solution as of yet, but I have a path to follow to repair the rift in my head over what I want in my life. Dig is an equal partner in the project, but she's not part of the rest. When I'm done getting through this need to exorcise my old demons with this investigation, my feelings for Dig will leave along with my past. Shelby is who I'm with. I will maintain control of my world.
The next day I do some basic surveillance on a councilman. He's on his cell phone nearly the entire day, occasionally looking stressed. I have no doubt he knows about our little project, and he's most likely contacting anyone up the ladder who might be willing to keep him out of the mayhem we're creating. I smile at the panicked expression on his face the entire time.
By five-thirty, however, I'm in the shower planning my night out with Shel. I roll through my strategy point by point to make sure she and I have the best possible night together. I will romance her while we're out and make her feel special when we're home. I'm at her door at six o'clock sharp, dressed in crisp, charcoal suit. Shelby's eyes widen at the
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