Homesick

Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

“B oy am I glad to see you,” Sheila says as I clock in for my shift. I’m exhausted from the weekend, and I want nothing more than to distract myself with mindless work.

“Hi, Sheila,” I say with a warm smile.

“How was your weekend, sweetie?”

I pause before answering. My weekend involved a lot of drama and that drama happened to involve her son. “It was fine. Kind of uneventful,” I answer with a shrug.

Sheila must be able to tell I’m lying by the way she slumps against the bar. “Hmm, that’s odd. Blake seemed to have the complete opposite to say.”

I despise the way my body instantly perks up at the mention of his name. I’m over caring, but it’s not something I can switch on and off. If that was the case, I would’ve done so years ago.

“What did he tell you?” I press. I was hoping to avoid Blake talk. However, I’m talking to his mom, so it’s not my best plan.

“He just told me how you two finally got to catch up this weekend.”

Yeah, we caught up all right. After our little moment by the fire, Ashley kept me preoccupied by the fire, telling me sweet stories about some of the kids she works with as a guidance counselor at the local elementary school. I tried my best to listen, but Blake was chopping wood nearby and every time he slammed the axe down, my stomach swirled in an unfriendly way.

“Yeah, it was nice.”

Sheila looks at me like she can tell there’s more to the story, but she drops it anyway. “Before I forget, I wanted to let you know we’re getting really good feedback about the new website. Also, I talked to Bob about doing some paid ads on social media and he said that would be great. He’s really impressed with the improvements you’ve made around here.”

After a weird weekend, I’m grateful to hear there are still some things I am doing right. Seeing the impact I’ve made on this small business in such a short time is a great feeling.

At my old job, completing projects or accomplishing goals never felt fulfilling. This is different because I’m doing work I like and getting to see the effects in action. I was lucky if I even had the chance to speak to a client at my old corporate gig.

“That’s great! I’m going to run that ad for our wing night this week so hopefully that’ll bring in more business.”

The Rustic Inn did a great job at bringing in business on the weekends, but that momentum usually fell off during the week. My goal is to attract more consistent business and tap into a different customer base.

Sure, this place is a bar, but they also have great food and a lot of people don’t know that. Some families are hesitant to bring their kids to a place that has been coined as a dive bar for the longest time. I know if we’re able to attract more families, that will be a huge help.

Sheila hangs out for a little longer and we go over my social media content plan and some updates that need to be made to the website. After a while, she leaves me to my work, and I enjoy the silence of a slow Monday afternoon in the bar. Hopefully it won’t be like that for much longer, though.

I must lose track of time because I’m pulled out of my work daze when my phone starts vibrating on the bar. I see Emma’s caller I.D. pop up and I immediately pick up. “Hey Em, what’s up?”

“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you all weekend and that’s all you have to say?”

I press my free hand into my forehead and mentally chide myself about forgetting to give her an update about my date with Adam. Or lack thereof. “Oh shit, I forgot to call you afterwards.”

“It’s fine. I figured you did.”

“Okay, good.”

There’s a slight pause before she starts talking again. “Well, tell me about it now!”

“Well, he was a total ass,” I explain before diving into the entire story. I tell her every single detail down to the sticky floors.

“What a jerk,” she huffs into the other side of the phone. “On the bright side, at least you found out he was an ass early on.”

“Yes, very true,” I agree with a nervous laugh. I’m not looking forward to telling her how I spent the rest of Saturday evening.

I’m tempted to keep the whole Blake thing to myself, but it’s exhausting constantly battling with everything in my own mind. Also, Emma is my best friend. If there’s anyone that I can talk to about this stuff, it is her. I need to quit internalizing everything.

“There’s actually something else that happened Saturday night,” I admit before looking around the bar to see if anyone is around. I shimmy off my bar stool and head out to the porch to continue our conversation.

“I’m listening.”

“When I went back to the farm, Blake was there and we sort of hung out all night. It was honestly going really well until things got heated.”

I tell her everything that happened between us the last two days and don’t leave out one single detail. By the end of my story, I’m relieved to finally get everything off my chest.

“Wow. That’s . . . a lot.”

“I know. I have no idea how things got messed up so quickly. It’s like one moment, I think we can be friends and the next, that all goes out the window.”

“Hypothetically, would you want to start things back up again and see where they go? Your break-up was abrupt, so it’s not crazy to feel that way.”

Our break-up was sudden. Blake was my entire world for most of my life until he wasn’t. I had lost more than just a boyfriend. I had lost a friend, a neighbor, and most of my childhood. I was angry at him for so long but being here now makes that anger feel like something more.

“I don’t know. Part of me wants to see where things could go, but I don’t know if I can handle going through that pain again.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I hated seeing you like that.”

“Yeah,” I say, my mind trailing off to the past yet again.

“Oh! Before I forget. What are you doing for the fourth this weekend?”

“I’m not sure. I think I might have to work on Saturday.”

“Jesus Christ, Wren. You’re supposed to be the single, fun one in this group and I’m supposed to live vicariously through you,” Emma declares playfully through the phone.

“Hey! I thought the kissing my ex-thing was pretty juicy. Damn, your standards are high.”

Laughter travels through the other end of the phone as I lean against the porch railing. When Emma finally comes up for air, she says, “okay. I’m having a little picnic at my place Sunday so feel free to stop by.”

* * *

“It’s packed in here,” I yell to the other bartender over the live band happening outside. “I’m going to go grab some more vodka before we run out.”

I’ve spent the last week promoting the Rustic Inn’s Fourth of July party on social and it paid off. There’s not a person in here that isn’t bumping shoulders with someone. This is one of the first times I’ve stepped out from behind the bar since earlier this afternoon. My shift is just about over, but I will probably stay a while longer to help out.

My entire week had consisted of prepping for today’s event and going home to do chores when I had free time. I hadn’t seen Blake once this week and even though I should be relieved, I feel weird. It’s like I missed the thrill of looking out for him around every corner of the farm. It’s almost like I missed him.

I let the rogue thought roll off the back of my mind and continue my journey to the storeroom for more liquor. If I’m being honest, things have shifted between Blake and me. At the beginning of the summer, the sight of him irritated me, but now, I’m begging for moments like we had at the pond that one night after haying.

My blood runs hot at the thought of him with nothing but his underwear on, but again, I shake it off.

When I turn the corner to enter into the storeroom, I hear frantic whispers. I stop dead in my tracks when I realize who it is.

“I thought you said you were going to take things easy tonight,” Blake snaps at his mother. “You’ve been running around here like a chicken with its head cut off.”

“I’m fine, Blake. You worry too much.”

My mind is racing a million miles a minute to figure out what they’re talking about. I had spent a majority of the summer with Sheila, and nothing came to mind.

“I know, Mom. It’s just the last time you overworked yourself, we found out . . .”

Just as Blake is about to finish his sentence, my hip accidentally bumps the shelf I’m beside and all of the glasses begin to clink together. The commotion instantly gives me away.

In order to save myself a little grace, I take a deep breath and barrel into the room. I head straight for the shelf of vodka, but right before I pick it up, I turn my head toward the mother and son duo and form a surprised O with my mouth.

“Oh shit, you two scared me! Sorry, it’s crazy out there. Need to restock on the vodka!”

Before either one of them can question me, I make a break for the door and pray my little performance was enough to convince them I wasn’t eavesdropping.

My heart begins to thump against my ribcage when I make it back to the bar. It takes me a second to regain my footing, but once I start making drinks again, all thoughts of Blake Fisher fall to the wayside.

Two hours later, the bar begins to thin out and I can finally breathe. There are still a lot of people here, but most of them are too preoccupied with the band to order another drink.

When I set another ice-cold beer down, I feel his green orbs on me from the other end of the bar. Shivers travel up and down my spine under his penetrating gaze.

I walk over to Blake and the first thing I notice is how adorable he looks leaning up against the wooden counter. I notice he’s let his facial hair grow a little longer than usual. It’s still trimmed up, but somehow it makes him even more irresistible. It makes it harder to remember the clean-shaven boy who broke my heart.

“Do you want another one?” I question, motioning to his empty beer bottle.

“No, I’m good. I will close out my tab, though.”

I bite my lip, tempted to ask about what he was talking to his mom about. I know it’s not my business anymore, but I can’t help but wonder.

“I’m sorry I walked in on your mom and you, earlier. It seemed like you were having a serious conversation,” I observe.

Blake’s entire body tenses up at the mention of his mom. His eyes search mine for clues about how much I might’ve heard. Before he speaks, he clears his throat, shaking off any hint that the topic makes him uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” he says before pausing to think for a moment. “She took this job to slow down, but it seems like she’s doing the opposite. I just worry about her.”

My mind travels back to a time when I was worried about her, too. There were a lot of moments after her cancer diagnosis that I tried to imagine my life without Sheila. Little did I know, I’d end up doing just that.

“Yeah,” I answer, not knowing what else to say without prying more. “So, you’re leaving then? The fireworks haven’t even started.”

Blake’s mouth tips up in a smile and my heart lurches forward.

“Do you want me to stay, Wren?”

Yes , I think quietly to myself. But I know I can’t say that.

“No,” I answer quickly. “I was just letting you know about the fireworks.”

My heart begins to race when I see a strange wave of emotions race across his face. Ultimately, he lands on shaping his lips into a tight, thin line. Blake’s smile is gone.

“Of course,” he says awkwardly.

I stare at him blankly, wondering if I should change my mind. Before our kiss last weekend, I had forgotten how good it felt to just sit and talk with Blake. Other than Emma, he was the one person I could tell anything to. I missed him more than I wanted to admit.

Blake clears his throat, pulling me out of my thought process.

“Can I get the check, Wren?”

“Oh, shit. Yes!”

I quickly spin around, almost crashing into the other bartender.

“Sorry, Macy,” I say before centering myself. “Hey, can you get Blake his check? I’m going to go and wipe down some empty tables while we’re slow.”

I navigate my way through the sea of drunken couples dancing to the slow tunes being cast into the room by the band outside. I don’t look back at Blake, desperate to create some space between us for the time being. If I don’t, I’m worried I’ll ask him to stay.

As I begin to mindlessly clean the empty tables, I feel a presence approach from behind. When I turn around, I expect it to be Blake and when I see it’s not, my stomach drops.

“What do you want, Adam?” I ask, throwing my hands on my hips.

His eyes are glazed over and he’s slightly swaying from side to side, trying to keep his balance. Key signs that he’s been over served either here or whatever hellhole he crawled out of.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind getting me a drink. You owe me for being such a raging bitch the other night,” he slurs.

Anger seethes from my pores at his words, but I keep my temper in check. The last thing I need is to get on the bad side of some drunk idiot.

“Look, it’s clear you’re shitfaced. I can’t get you another drink, but I’ll get you a water.”

Before I can walk away, his hand grips my forearm and traps me between him and the table pressing into my back. Adam towers over me and a mixture of fear and disgust creeps into my body from the smell of rum on his breath.

“That didn’t sound like an apology, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in closer.

My eyes dart around the room, willing someone to notice the man pressed up against me, but all I see are other sloppy drunks doing the same thing. My heartbeat races uncontrollably when I realize how helpless I am. The only hope I have is waiting for his grip to loosen so I can escape.

“I’m s-sorry,” I whisper, barely getting the words out.

A smile creeps across Adam’s lips, but before he can respond, a hand grabs his shoulder out of nowhere and I’m free.

I close my eyes and whisper a silent prayer before turning to my rescuer. When I look up, I see Blake has Adam pinned against the wall.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.”

I tear myself from the table I was pressed against and lunge into action. “Blake, let him go. I’ll get one of the bouncers to throw him out.”

I would love to see him beat Adam’s ass, but I know Blake, and this wasn’t him. He didn’t lose his temper that easily unless it involved someone he loved.

“Blake, please,” I beg, placing my hand on his shoulder.

The second I touch him, his entire body relaxes and snaps him out of his focus. He releases Adam from his hold and throws him toward the door. I see Sheila waiting near the door next to our bouncer and before I can spring into action, Adam is gone.

Sheila practically stomps toward us, and my body goes still at the fury radiating off of her. She obviously didn’t see what happened before Blake had Adam against the wall.

“Blake, you need to leave. You know the rule,” she says before pointing to the sign that says, fight and get kicked out in bright red letters.

Without even attempting to defend himself, Blake stalks toward the door. It takes me a moment to register the events that unfolded in less than ten minutes, but before I know what I’m doing, I’m following Blake outside.

“Curse his long legs,” I mutter before navigating through the sea of cars. “Where the hell did he go?”

I’m not sure what I want to say to him, but I need to say something. If he wasn’t there tonight . . . I can’t even finish the thought.

I keep walking, not knowing where I’m heading. Suddenly, a random hand gently reaches out and I scream, expecting it to be Adam.

“Whoa, Wren. Calm down. It’s just me,” Blake says, caressing my shoulders with both hands. “Shit, that was dumb of me. Are you okay?”

Before I can process what I’m doing, my arms wrap around Blake, and I let him hold me. I can’t deny how safe I feel in his arms. I expect tears to begin falling, but everything falls into place when I inhale his oaky scent.

Blake begins to stroke the back of my head and rocks me in place. His hold is strong and shows no sign of letting go.

“I could kill that kid,” he says with a heavy breath.

My head lifts and sinks into his chest as his breathing becomes uneven. I pull my head from its space nestled in the crook of his neck and use my hands to cradle each side of his face.

“Listen, Blake. It’s over and done with. If he knows any better, he’ll stay away,” I say, trying to convince myself the same thing. “He’s not worth it.”

The anger in his eyes begins to fade with my reassuring words and I want to melt into the field of green staring back at me.

“Are you sure you’re okay,” he asks with a furrowed brow.

“Yes.”

Saying that word makes me aware of how close Blake and I are right now. Almost as close as we were the other night. The memory sends goosebumps across my skin.

I expect Blake to let go when I see the same realization cross his mind. But he doesn’t. He keeps holding me.

For a few seconds, we don’t say anything. All I can focus on is how quickly Blake’s heart is beating against his chest. My hand falls from his shoulder and presses to his chest.

When I look up, Blake’s eyes are on mine, and I can see the shift when they fall to my lips. Without thinking, my tongue darts out and swipes across my lips in anticipation.

“Do you want me to stay?” he questions again.

“Yes,” I whisper into thin air.

Within seconds, fireworks begin to light up the sky and a spark begins to flicker to life.