The Reckless Collision

Ray.

~~~

Life had found a strange rhythm, steady but underpinned by an unease I couldn't quite shake. As I lay in bed, cradling Sam against my chest, her soft breaths a gentle rhythm against my skin, my thoughts wandered to the whirlwind of the last few weeks in New York.

We'd flown out for her birthday—a celebration she'd spared no expense on, gathering everyone for a week meant to be blissful. In many ways, it was. Sam didn't just want to mark her birthday; she wanted to celebrate life itself. After the revelations about her birth mother's death the day she was born, I couldn't blame her for wanting to grasp joy with both hands.

Still, not everything had gone smoothly. James's relapse was impossible to ignore. His hollow eyes and erratic behavior made it clear he was back on drugs. At least he'd agreed to rehab, though Chloe's influence on him was a toxic force I hoped they'd both recognize and escape.

With the tour looming, we found ourselves without a guitarist, but Andrew's visit helped. We even held an unofficial audition, though it was bittersweet, shadowed by the tension that had followed me all evening.

The memory of the night before was still fresh, its edges raw and jagged. I could see it as clearly as if I were still there.

The restaurant's dim lighting cast a golden glow over the tables, each one draped in pristine white linen. The soft hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and gentle piano music filled the air. Yet as I pushed back my chair and walked toward the bar, all of that faded into a muffled background, drowned out by the sound of my own heartbeat.

I spotted Tom before he saw me, leaning casually against the bar, a whiskey glass in hand. He looked the same—too polished, too calculated, his tailored suit and carefully tousled hair a sharp contrast to the mess of emotions he'd left in his wake.

When he turned and saw me approaching, his lips curved into a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "Raymond," he greeted, his tone oozing with feigned warmth. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Tom," I replied, keeping my voice steady even as irritation simmered beneath the surface. "Quite a surprise, isn't it? What brings you here?"

He shrugged, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Just out for a drink. It's a big city, after all."

"Sure," I said, my gaze never wavering. "But let's cut the pretense. I appreciate whatever concern you had for Sam back then, but she's moved on. And I think it's time you did, too."

His expression shifted, the veneer of nonchalance cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of irritation. "Moved on, huh? Is that what you think?"

"It's not just what I think." I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "It's what she wants. And it's what's best for her. So if you're here hoping for some kind of reconciliation, you're wasting your time."

His jaw tightened, but he managed a sardonic smirk. "You've really embraced the role of protector, haven't you?"

"This isn't about roles," I shot back, my tone firm. "It's about respecting her choices and boundaries. I'm just making sure those are honored."

For a moment, his cold gaze met mine, and I saw something I didn't expect: a flicker of grudging respect. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He took a long sip of his drink, his movements deliberate, the tension between us almost tangible.

"This used to be our place, you know," he said, his voice quieter now, carrying a thread of something almost nostalgic.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. "Well, now it's just a place where people come to enjoy themselves."