10. Walt
WALT
“Fuck.”
I grab the empty bottle and throw it as hard as I can against the wall.
Shards of glass scatter through the space, cutting across the room—just like I cut into him.
I can’t believe I was so harsh. Last night things got way too close to being way too real.
I had to do this. I had to let him go. I can’t be around him all day and then take care of my needs after he leaves every night. That can’t happen again.
“I had to do it.”
I slump against the wall as I crouch down, finally resting after a shift that felt twice as long and three times as hard. I scream at the top of my lungs for no one but the booze to hear.
I yelled at him.
Accused him of stealing.
Told him not to come back.
What if I just let the one good thing that’s come into my life walk out that door?
I know he wants me. And hell, if I don’t want him.
There’s a mist in my eyes that shows up so rarely. But tonight it seems to be back with a vengeance as I feel a single tear trickle down my cheek.
Why can’t I be stronger? Why can’t I be more like him?
I slam my fist on the ground with instant regret as a shard of glass rips through my skin.
“Shit.” I stagger to my feet and grab the first aid kit as I wipe my face with my sleeve, digging through the box for a band-aid.
What hits me next is the last thing I expect. That voice.
His voice.
“Sorry, I know you told me to go, but I forgot my— Jesus, what happened in here?”
He’s here.
My heart pounds. The anger I lashed out with vanishes into thin air. I don’t care if he forgot his coat or his goddamn mind. He’s here. Staring at me. Crying. Bleeding. Broken.
“Holy shit. Are you okay? Did someone come in here and—”
“No. No one was in here. I-I threw the b-bottle. C-cut my hand,” I stutter, showing him the evidence. “And no. I’m not okay.”
He starts to take a step forward but hesitates, finally gesturing to the phone on the desk. “Do you need me to call 911? Do you need to go to the hospital? What do you need?”
I don’t think I could blink if I tried. Everything that’s been bottled up for so long, buried so deep no one could find it, not even me, finally comes to the surface.
My resolve to keep it hidden is now shattered with the glass.
My throat burns as the word pushes its way to the surface like it’s a damn hot bed of coals I have to walk across to get what I want.
And right now, I don’t care if I burn up and turn into ash.
Because he came back.
I take one step toward him. Then another. Finally standing before him, barely an inch separating us.
“What do you need?” he whispers, his voice hoarse.
My pulse flies through my veins like a freight train with bad brakes as he repeats his question as if I didn’t hear.
But I did.
And I answer.
“You.”
He stares back at me, taking in my words like he’s trying to read an entire encyclopedia volume while trying to comprehend it all at once.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” I take the final step, my entire body on fire as I lean forward and press my lips to his.
Warmth hits deep in my chest, low in my belly as he grips the back of my head, pulling me deeper into the kiss.
He opens his mouth, and our tongues collide.
My hands shake at my sides, unsteady, angry, and turned on as hell.
He feels like every hope, every dream, every fantasy come true.
The vodka still lingering in his mouth is the fucking sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. One ounce of vodka caused all this, and now I want to be nothing but drunk on this man. I feel like I can’t get my tongue deep enough, can’t get close enough to him.
His hand moves from my face to my chest as he pulls back from the kiss.
“Wow,” he says, his lips full as a flush crosses his cheeks. “That was quite the turn on a dime you pulled. Here I thought I was fired, and instead you throw a bottle at the wall and make out with me. Do you always kiss people when you’re angry at ’em?”
I shake my head. “No. I wasn’t…I wasn’t angry with you. I was mad at myself.”
“If that’s how you react, I might enjoy you being upset with yourself on a regular basis.”
I snort. “I’ve never…” I clear my throat, my fingers finding his shirt. “I’ve never actually done that before. With, you know, a man. Like you.”
His lips twist into a soft smile. “I figured as much.”
“Was it bad?” I wince.
He laughs, the sound impossibly warm and open. “No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I assumed you hadn’t been with men before. Most guys that try to kiss me don’t typically yell at me to get out of their bar before they stick their tongue down my throat.”
I sink into myself, my cheeks heating. “Sorry about that.”
He leans forward to grab my hand. “You’re still bleeding. Let’s get this cleaned up, boss.”
We find the first aid kit, and he works to clean me up with rubbing alcohol and some gauze pads.
“You ever gonna stop calling me boss?”
“Nope.” He pops the ‘p.’
“Why not?”
“’Cause I know it gets under your skin.” He pulls the paper off the band-aid and presses it against my hand. “And I think, maybe, I like getting under your skin.”
I smile. “I think I like it too.”
He holds his hand in mine, his thumb rubbing against me, soothing the heat, the anger, even the pain from the glass. It’s a comfort I’ve wanted for so long but never thought I could have. Yet here in the back of my bar…I finally have it.
“Do you want to…stay for a while?”
“I do. But…” He flashes a gentle smile as he shakes his head. “I should go.”
My stomach drops as he reaches around me to grab his coat, his hand not leaving mine.
“It’s not that I don’t want to stay. Trust me. I do.” His hand squeezes mine with a quiet reassurance I need. “But you’ve got a lot to deal with in that head of yours, and I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow regretting me in your bed.”
“Johnny, I wouldn’t. I swear—”
He interrupts me with a finger to my lips.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t. But I want you to sleep on it.
Sleep on everything that’s happened today.
The good and the bad. I want you to make sure you’re ready to walk down this road.
Because if I start this with you?” His grin is scorching as he leans in to whisper in my ear, “I won’t be able to stop. ”
Holy shit. Goosebumps spread across my skin as I try to form some semblance of words. “Okay. Deal.”
“One thing I’m gonna say before I head out: if you give me the goddamn silent treatment tomorrow, it’ll be my last day working here.”
I drop my gaze to the floor. “Yeah. Sorry about that too.”
“I’ll let it slide this time.” He leans in, presses his palm to my cheek, and kisses me once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He walks out of the backroom, and I quickly follow.
“Hey, Johnny?” I yell.
“Yeah, boss?” he calls over his shoulder, his stride faltering.
“I’m glad you forgot your coat.”
He lifts his hand as he walks out the door, a smile on his lips. “Me too.”