45. TYLER
Chapter 45
TYLER
T his morning was amazing, but I can’t shake the bad feeling settling in my bones. I don’t know what it’s for or why I’m having it, but I can’t deny it makes me nervous. Maybe coming to work was a bad idea, but I could only stay away for so long. I had to show my face at some point. I still own the bar, after all. So I’m here until eleven at night, and that’s still a couple of hours away. I’ve called Noah a few times but he’s not answering, which worries me even more, but he did text me to say he was going to take a nap so maybe he’s still asleep. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Maybe the orgasms have made me clingier than usual.
The sex was mind-blowing—every second of it was worth the wait. The connection I felt was other-worldly. Never in my life did I think it could feel that good, or that I could be tethered to someone on a spiritual level. And now I want to do it again and again.
The door to the bar opens, and in comes Austin. He’s walking toward me with purpose and anger rolling off him in waves. I only know that because I’ve known him half my life. He looks pissed, and I know the reason immediately.
Scarlett.
He takes a seat right in front of me, slamming his hands on the bar top, and narrows his eyes at me. I narrow mine right back, but I can’t help but feel a little intimidated. The man is taller than me by a few inches, and he’s just a little bigger than me. Maybe around fifteen pounds heavier. But that could make a difference?—
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growls, and his green eyes sparkle with disgust. “You cheated on her?”
“That’s none of your business?—”
He slams his fists on the bar top once more, the sound echoing. “The fuck it’s not.”
“Why do you even care?”
“She’s my friend.” He doesn’t even miss a beat. “The woman is a fucking saint. Are you fucking serious? How dare you?”
“I’m—”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he says through gritted teeth. “She didn’t deserve this.”
“I know,” I sigh.
“I’m buying the bar,” he says calmly. “You’ll divorce her.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Or what?”
“I’ll beat your fucking ass—and you don’t want that.” He raises his own eyebrow. “You’ll end up in the hospital and you know it.”
He’s not wrong. More than likely I won’t be able to best him, even if I put up a good damn fight. Which I would. I’m not a coward. I’ll go down swinging, even if I know I deserve it. “So, what?” I ask calmly. “You want my bar and my wife?”
“ Ex -wife.”
“Not yet,” I tell him, but I know it’s the wrong thing to say. His hand shoots out and grabs my t-shirt, yanking me toward him until we’re face to face. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“You,” he snarls. “You’ll sell me the bar.”
“Okay, okay.” I raise my hands in defeat, and he lets me go. I stumble back, almost falling on my ass, and grimace. “You can have the fucking bar.”
“And you’ll stay out of her life for good,” he growls. “You already destroyed it.”
“I’ll stay away,” I affirm, and he smiles. It gives me whiplash, but I shouldn’t care what she does with her life anymore. Or who she spends it with. I should just be happy for her. “You take care of her.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that with me,” he spits out. “I’m not a piece of shit like you.”
I sigh, because I know I deserve that. “You’re right. I’m so?—”
“If you apologize again, I’ll beat your ass right fucking here.”
“Okay.” I nod. “Let’s talk about the bar.”
He smiles at that. “Now we’re talking.”
I spend the next hour going over everything relating to the bar. The books, the employees, and how much money it takes to run it. He hangs on to my every word, and by the end of my spiel, he makes me an offer I can’t reject. It solidifies my future by Noah’s side, so I take it, shaking hands with him. It feels like my friendship with him is ruined too, but I can’t hold it against him. I know I fucked up.
Austin gets up from the barstool and looks me up and down, a look of disgust on his face, but he says his goodbyes with a stoic face. He doesn’t want this deal to get ruined, and neither do I. The faster I sell this place, the faster I can start my new life with Noah by my side. He exits the bar, and I can finally breathe again.
Wiping the bar top, I look at the time on my phone. My messages are still unanswered, and I don’t have any missed calls. My stomach is uneasy, and all I want to do is go home to him and hold him all night. I know he’s probably in his head right now, having nightmares as I stand here and serve customers who don’t mean shit to me. All because I want to be a good boss to my people. I don’t want them to feel deserted, like I don’t care. Especially now that I’m selling the bar. I want Austin to have a seamless transition, including not having to hire any more people due to my absence. But as my hands shake and the pit in my stomach grows, I know none of it matters anymore.
I have to go home.
I need to lay eyes on him.
It’s probably nothing. I’m more than likely overreacting. But I can’t help myself. It’s finally me and him against the world, and I’ll be damned if anything happens to him because I was here. I’ll be damned if he wakes up from his nightmares alone and scared, probably under the bed again. I’ll be fucking damned if I let him hurt without me by his side.
So I throw the rag on the bar top and excuse myself, going to the assistant manager to have a word with her. I explain that I have to leave earlier, and she nods and says she’s got me. To not worry. So I don’t.
I get in my car and blow out a big breath, exhaling all the air out of my lungs. My heart is beating erratically, and I can’t seem to get it to slow down no matter how many deep breaths I take. My hands shake on the steering wheel as I grip it, and I peel out of the parking lot with every intention of speeding the entire way home. But life has other plans for me, and I'm stopped at every single red light.
Taking my phone out of the cup holder, I dial Noah and turn up the volume on the Bluetooth. It rings and rings and rings, then goes straight to voicemail. As if he cut off the call. Rejected it. That pit in my stomach? It’s now a fucking ocean, deep and endless. It feels like an earthquake has taken over my insides, my limbs trembling violently as I pull up into my driveway, and when I take out my phone there’s one unread message from Noah.
Unlocking my phone, I read it over and over.
My blood rushes in my ears, then turns to ice.
And then I fly out of my car, headed toward the front door.
Headed to him.