Chapter 30 Collie
COLLIE
One Month Later
“Pickleback?”
“Nope. Straight tequila tonight.”
A deep chuckle behind me causes me to turn. “Oh, goodie. You’re back,” I tell the guy who clearly can’t take a hint.
“Thought maybe you wanted to dance after that drink?”
Shot. It’s a shot.
I give him a glance over. He’s tall. Shaggy blond hair with bright blue eyes. Muscular. Not bad looking, actually. And I’m not interested in the slightest. “I’ll pass,” I tell him before turning back to my favorite bartender and friend, Freddie.
“Another.” I hold up the empty glass.
“Well, I’ll be over there if you change your mind,” the blond guy whispers into my ear, his hot breath making me cringe. “And I promise to make it worth your while.”
“Gag me,” I groan loud enough for only Freddie to hear as the guy walks away.
“Berkley,” Freddie shouts. “Come get your friend. She’s drunk.”
“I’m not fucking drunk,” I tell him, venom in my tone. “I’m just not interested in the guy. Is that so hard to believe?” Freddie fills my glass, all while looking at me like I’m crazy.
I can’t find it in me to care tonight.
One of my closest friends in Timber Heights, Berkley, abandons the guy she’s flirting with tonight and joins me at my side. “Hi, babe. You good?” She throws her arm around me, and I slump further into my seat.
“I’m fine, Berks. Just not interested. Freddie thinks I’m drunk. Which, I’m not. I’ve had three shots and could steer a horse with my eyes closed.”
A horse. My throat grows tight at the memory.
It’s been a month since I got back from Wyoming, and I’ve been a shell of myself. Going out to The Funky Rooster is nothing new for me. It’s what Berkley and I do most weekends to get out and meet guys. Although there aren’t many winners left in this small town, it’s typically worth a shot.
This is the first time I could barely find the energy to go. I agreed, telling myself I needed to try. To try and meet someone again, entertain the idea of screwing Easton’s impression out of my system or something. Never steered me wrong before.
But for a reason I can’t quite understand, I can’t so much as look at another man without feeling mind-numbingly ill. Sick to my stomach.
“You never drink tequila, baby girl,” Freddie chimes in.
“And? Your point is?” I slam the glass on the bar top, signaling with my eyes for him to grant me another.
“Picklebacks are your thing. If you aren’t drinking whiskey and ginger ale, you’re drinking picklebacks. I’ve served you at this bar for years, Collie. You’re either drunk or something is fucking you up in that pretty head of yours.”
“Cols,” Berkley stammers. “I hate to admit it, but Freddie is right. And did I just see you turn down Justin Bates? Have you seen that man?”
Oh. Was that Justin? “Didn’t even realize that was him.”
“See. Drunk.” Freddie points at me, and I want to sucker punch his red beard right off his face. “Anyone in their right mind would notice the hotness that is Justin Bates.”
“Not. Drunk. Watch me prove it.” Since no one seems to believe how pathetically sober I actually am, I set my phone down and climb on top of the leather bar stool, my four-inch block heels not fazing me one bit.
I kick one leg out onto the bar and signal for Freddie to help me up.
He shakes his head but does what I ask. “I could get fired for this, you know?”
“Oh, shut up, Freddie. You own the damn bar.”
I stand tall and spin, just for shits and giggles. “Does this look like the spin of a drunk woman?”
“Never should have challenged her,” Berkley tells Freddie, smiling brightly. “Show’s over, babe. Time to get down and spill the sour beans.”
I let out an exhausted huff and climb off the bar top, finding my original seat. “Ready to drop it now?” I tilt my head, signaling for Freddie to cut the questions and refill my tequila.
“He might be, but I’m not,” Berk says from the chair beside me while Freddie chuckles.
I take in Berkley’s beautiful presence. Her pin-straight black hair is pulled into a slicked-back ponytail.
She’s wearing an emerald green dress that hugs every one of her voluptuous curves, only accentuating the pigment of her brown skin.
The body highlight she never leaves the house without draws attention to her pretty clavicle and delicate features.
It’s no wonder Berkley already found her contender for the night. She’s a knockout.
And I’m not sure I could be mad at her if I tried. We’ve been friends since high school, and she’s been nothing but good to me.
Supportive and loyal to a fault. Also, my biggest advocate when I self-sabotage. Which is primarily why I understand her need to ask questions now that Freddie kindly pointed out the difference in me tonight.
I don’t want to talk about it.
I just want to come to my favorite bar. Have a drink—or seven. Numb the sadness a little bit, and then go home to sleep it off.
In that order.
“You’re sad. You’ve been sad,” Berkley tells me as if it’s life-changing news.
I don’t respond because if I do…if I admit to missing Easton with everything inside of me, I’ll break. I don’t break for anyone. Never let them see me fall.
Yet, everything reminds me of him. The smells in this bar. Just the words “horse” and “pickleback shot.” He’s everywhere.
But this is my reality, and I can’t change that.
“I’m sad,” I admit, my body feeling like it physically just took a blow.
Freddie slides a fresh bowl of bar nuts in front of me, urging me to eat. I grab a cashew and inspect it before popping it into my mouth. “I shouldn’t be sad, but I am.”
Berkley and Freddie know about Easton. Not as much as Capri does, but they know he means a lot to me. “We should talk about it. Talk about him. It might be good for you,” Berkley tells me kindly.
I sift through the bowl, searching for a roasted walnut. I never did like these things. “I just miss him. I knew what we had wasn’t meant to be forever, but I never expected to feel like this over it.”
“Like what?” Freddie asks, linking my hand with his.
“Like I lost him.”
“Oh, Collie. Don’t you guys still talk? I thought I heard you on the phone with him the other day.” She did. We talk all the time since getting back to our separate lives. But how long do we just carry on with this long-distance friendship and never bring up seeing each other again?
We’ve both beaten around it.
“We do. We talk constantly. But it just doesn’t feel right when my whole body misses him. I want to suggest seeing each other, but I don’t know where his head is at. He’s…been going through a lot…” I draw out.
“Can I give my two cents?” Freddie asks, and I already know it’ll either make me laugh or cry. There’s never an in between. Freddie is intuitive, and we’ve known each other through many seasons of our lives. His advice usually sucks to hear, but it puts my stubbornness in check.
“Go for it,” I tell him, open to anything now that the conversation has already started. “But I’m gonna need another shot to get me through it.”
Freddie starts to refill my glass, but Berkley stops him, swatting his wrist away. “She’s had enough.”
“Bitches,” I mumble, but don’t put up a fight.
“Okay, my turn to take the floor,” Freddie announces, ignoring the calls from other customers at the end of the bar.
Nope. He’s been waiting for his chance to put me in my place.
I can feel it. “Collie, you know you’re my girl.
Practically my sister from another mister at this point.
Hell, you’ve been in my home more times than I can count.
Brett and I love you like our own, baby girl.
But you’re as stupid as a domestic turkey sometimes.
Just because Easton lives in another state doesn’t mean he’s off-limits. Is he married?”
“Uhhh, no…technically, he almost was but…”
“Focus, Collie,” Berkley redirects me.
Freddie claps with eagerness. “Then he’s fair game, baby girl. Lay down your independence for a day and make a move. Test the waters. Ask hard questions to see where his head is at. It doesn’t make you weak to do that. I thought you said these are all the things this man taught you?”
“He did. But that’s the thing—Easton has a job. I’m working on securing a space for my business. Those two things are pretty freaking permanent.”
“Who says they have to be?” Berkley counters.
“Let Easton decide for himself what’s permanent. Just like you can for you. I’ve never seen you like this, Collie. You’ve been bitten by the love bug, and wasting that feeling would be a goddamn shame.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Freddie isn’t wrong.
I think I’m just scared of rejection. What if I put myself out there even more and he turns me down?
I’m the person I thought would never have any issues separating a good time together and moving on when it’s over.
Until Easton.
The goodbye we had at the airport was brutal.
“Why don’t you just put some feelers out? Be a little more forward with him,” Berkley suggests, sliding my phone in front of me.
“How do I even do that?” I groan, not used to feeling this way ever.
She smiles, and I find myself smiling back. Not because I’m no longer nervous—I am. But because underneath that nervousness is a sliver of hope.
“Start by calling him. Tell him something that reminded you of him. See where it goes.” Berkley’s beautiful smile lights up her face, and I burrow my face in my hands.
“Ughhhhhh,” I squeal and yell at the same time, my friends finding humor in my evident confliction. A soft tap on my shoulder alerts me to someone behind me, and I spin to face Justin Bates.
Anddddd he’s back.
“I’m about to head home. Didn’t know if you wanted to join me?” He does this weird wink gesture, and it’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.
Two months ago, I wouldn’t have even questioned it. But the smell of maple and something else coming from Justin makes me want to vomit. Because it’s not right. It’s not coffee and leather with a hint of spearmint.
He’s all wrong.