Chapter 56
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
EVERLY
“ O ne Moscow mule!” I call out, plopping the drink down on the tray station.
“Oh, that’s mine!” Lucia calls out as she hurries over and picks it up. “Thanks, Taylor!”
I give an absentminded, one-handed wave as I turn my back to her and give my full attention to the patrons of the open-air beach bar.
The salty air drifts over my skin as a breeze winds through.
It momentarily sweeps away the constant stickiness that clings to the air, making it always feel so much hotter than it already is.
“Hey, pretty bartender, I could use another beer!” an older customer says, lifting his empty mug into the air as he leers at me.
I give him a smile as I stroll over and grab a clean glass off the shelf. Quickly, I pour his beverage of choice, place it down in front of him, and swipe his empty glass before he can engage me in a boring dribble of conversation like he has the past three drinks I’ve refilled for him.
The crowd is rowdy tonight. Laughter rings out from groups all over the outdoor seating, not muffled by the crashing waves out on the beach.
A fight broke out earlier, right when I arrived, and it was followed by the arrival of the police and a new wave of customers once room was made for them to slip in.
Ever since that rush, I’ve been busy, which is the best part of this job.
Grabbing orders, pouring drinks, wiping the bar top, collecting tips, and making small talk—it gives me everything I need to feel alive and part of something.
I’m smack dab in the center of all the action, a queen bee tending to the buzzing hive around her.
While simultaneously I’m invisible. Being a bartender, I’m both needed and ignored.
I hear things I’m not supposed to, can move without being truly noticed, and be whoever I want to be without anyone questioning it.
To the waitstaff, I’m Taylor.
To the customers, I’m simply ‘bartender’.
Everly Woodrow doesn’t exist in Punta del Diablo, Uruguay.
Not her scars, not her nightmares, and none of the baggage of her past—like the threat of a secret society on the lookout for her.
No, I have none of that looming over my head as I work.
The reprieve is a heavy relief. Here, even as busy as I am, I can breathe in ways I can’t the moment I walk out these doors.
My responsibilities are solely to make sure the customers are happy and the waitstaff has what they need.
All of which is in my power. It’s nice that I’m able to control some things.
The night goes on. The beach bar swells with customers, the place growing louder, the demands more insistent.
But as the stars come out and the kitchen closes, customers start to trickle away.
Small groups head toward the water, couples slip away into the shadows of the night, and those here on their own either linger for a last drink or stumble toward the exit.
When the bar is empty and all the glasses are cleaned, the shelves restocked, and the cash register prepared for tomorrow, I finally untie my apron and toss it in the bin.
“Hey, Thiago,” I pop my head into the small office in the back to see my boss playing on his phone. “I’m done and heading out, okay?” I ask in Spanish.
It’s a marvel how quickly my high school Spanish classes came rolling back after a few days here.
By the end of the first month, I could converse with the locals easily.
To my surprise, Rowan was the only other one who could speak it fluently, though his insecurities have kept him behind the scenes as we navigated our news lives here.
He barely spares me a glance. “Yeah, see you tomorrow, Taylor. Good night.”
I smile, though he doesn’t see it, before dipping out of the office and heading back toward the bar.
When I get there, I walk right past it and head for the beach.
My feet sink into the sand, still warm from the sun that’s long since set, and I head toward the water.
I kick off my shoes as I go, leaving them behind.
Each step toward the water makes the small smile on my face grow wider.
It’s only when it caresses my toes that I come to a stop.
Staring out across the ocean aglow with moonlight, I wonder at all it took to get to this moment. I do this every night; stand here and marvel in my fortune.
I’m free.
Free of Father and his cruelties, of Mother and her cool indifference, and free of life where people see me as nothing more than another step on the societal ladder.
“Hey, princess, what are you doing out here?”
I jump in surprise before turning to search for the owner of the familiar voice.
My eyes lock onto Rowan as he stalks down the beach toward me.
He’s donned his black baseball cap that he always wears when out in public, even at night, but other than that and sweatpants which hang scandalously low, he’s not wearing much else.
On either side of him are Maverick and Braum.
They’re at least wearing shirts and shorts.
I watch their approach, bewildered by their presence. Nothing seems to be wrong, there’s no urgency in their pace or tension in their bodies, but I can’t help but scan each of them over and over again. Especially given that they’re all together.
After months of growing pains, both physical and emotional, the guys have come to a place where they tolerate one another.
The four of us sleep in the same bed, we help one another when someone needs an extra hand, and we watch each other’s backs, always on the lookout for the Children of the White Stag.
Despite the leaps and bounds the three of them have made, I’m well aware there are still lingering…issues.
I’m not oblivious to the middle fingers they give one another behind my back, the small antagonizing verbal jabs when they think I’m out of earshot, and the occasional scuffle that leads to bruises they try to hide from me.
But this isn’t hatred, not anymore. It’s more like dealing with bickering brothers—which is fine.
When it comes to me, they all seem to be on the same page, and for that I’m grateful.
“What are you three doing here?” I ask as they finally get to me. “Is everything okay?”
They fan out, surrounding me casually as they join me at the edge of the water.
“What? We can’t hang out with our girl when she gets off her shift?” Maverick asks as he drapes an arm over my shoulders. Instantly, I lean into Mavie and wrap my arm around his waist.
“You can do whatever you want,” I tell them. “But usually at least two of you are asleep at this time.”
The third is typically up and waiting for me.
“True,” Braum admits. “But tonight we all felt like taking a stroll down the beach to come see you. Nothing’s wrong, we just wanted your company.”
Mavie nods. “We missed you.”
My heart swells at the confession, as simple as it is.
Just moments ago, I was marveling at my life and how incredible it is to be where I am, free of the invisible shackles that once clung to me.
But this, right here with these three… This is the most astonishing part of my life and I’m most grateful for it.
These three love me in their own strange but beautiful ways.
They need me, not because of my status in life, but because I complete them. I make them whole.
What’s more?
They make me whole as well. I’ve never felt so loved and adored.
Sure, they show it in unique ways, but I love that about them.
There’s Maverick with his constant need to shower me with sweetness and gentle teasing, just like when we were kids.
Then there’s Braum, who gravitates around me, watching and assessing my every move, making sure me and his Universe are happy.
And finally, there’s Rowan. A man who had everything before it was all stripped away, but craves me more than the life he had.
“Speak for yourself,” Rowan drawls. “I was thinking about your mouth wrapped around my cock while I enjoyed a little moonlight.”
I can feel Maverick’s growl of disapproval vibrate through his body as I giggle.
“Not here where my coworkers will see!” I object.
“Fine, then a few feet in that direction.” Rowan points, indicating the direction they’d just come from. The house is about a mile away, along this same beach with houses sparse and vegetation thick.
We could probably get away with that, especially at night.
“Come,” Braum says, taking my free hand and tugging me toward the house. “Let’s go home, Everly.”
I smile at him and he returns it, his dark eyes glittering in the light.
“Fine,” Rowan huffs. “We’ll skinny dip back at the house.”
The three of them casually herd me down the beach toward our house.
“How was work?” Mavie asks me.
I smile up at him as the others gather close to listen. “It was great. I made…”
As I talk, we walk and my heart swells with joy and love. My life may not be perfect, and the four of us will probably always have to look over our shoulders for signs of the Children of the White Stag, but I wouldn’t change what we have for anything.
I’ve never been happier than I am right now.
And as long as I have these three, I know each day moving forward will be just as great as this one.