Chapter 4 - Hayden
HAYDEN
It was supposed to be a fun night; dressing up, going out, getting buzzed on cheap beer and drunk on a few laughs.
It ended how I should’ve known it would, whenever we were in public.
Cole’s rampant jealousy hadn’t gotten any better in the ten years we’d been apart.
If anything, it’d gotten twenty times worse.
And now here I was, stranded in some bar at the ass end of town, dressed like the devil who’d been to hell and back. I had runs in my stockings, and some kind of dressing in my hair. My hand still hurt from punching the guy who’d brought me here, as my mind screamed a thousand ‘I told you so’s.’
“So you took his virginity…” the hunk to my right repeated numbly. “Like you mean, tonight?”
I laughed into my shot glass, this time sipping it instead of throwing it back.
“No, silly. Ten years ago. Back in high school.”
He ran a hand through his sandy blond hair and huffed. It was the kind of hair that was lusciously thick, but always messy. Like he just landed a skydive, or took off a motorcycle helmet.
“You monster,” the man quipped.
“No, no, you know what I mean,” I countered. “You always remember your first, right? Only, I shouldn’t have done it because I didn’t want to be remembered. Especially by him, although I didn’t realize it at the time.”
“And he’s still not over you?” He shook his head. “After all that time?”
“We used to date a million years ago,” I sighed, thinking all the way back.
“Back then, Cole was nerdy cute. Computer club, chess team, that sort of thing. This is all before the bodybuilding and MMA stuff, of course. We met in the library, actually, at some after school gaming contest. He was shy and awkward, everything I wasn’t. I brought him out of his shell.”
“Couldn’t you have left him in his shell?” the guy pouring the shots quipped.
I looked him over, and not for the first time.
My hero bartender was pleasantly tall, with dark brown hair that looked tousled without being messy.
He had deliciously broad shoulders. A square jaw, covered in sexy stubble.
The latter I suspected he sported not because it was attractive, but because he was just too busy to keep it shaved.
Yeah, he was definitely everything I seemed to love in a man. But it was his warm brown eyes that really took hold of me. I saw hope and rescue in those eyes, almost immediately upon bursting into his bar. And I’d been right.
“Anyway, things were good for a month or two,” I went on. “After that, Cole became infatuated with me. As I said, I was his first. He fell head over heels for me, to the point where I couldn’t even breathe without him being in my personal space. He got jealous. Controlling. And then… well…”
“You saw what a psychotic asshole he was, and broke up with him?”
The third guy was taller than the others; almost as tall as Cole, himself. His close-cropped hair and smooth, clean-shaven face made him seem all business.
“I did,” I eventually admitted. “And it was a nightmare. It took a while, but he eventually backed off. By then he had some confidence, and started pursuing other girls.”
“Lucky them,” the blond coughed.
“Yeah, well, we all make mistakes,” I said, finishing my drink. “Mine was Cole Kane.”
I settled back, finally letting my shoulders relax as I took a look around the little bar. Half the people were gone, but the half that were left were milling around in their costumes, having a good time. Especially the old man behind the tap, still gleefully filling pint glasses.
“One last question then,” the bartender squinted, as someone ended the silence by firing up a portable speaker. The crowd cheered as ‘Dead Man’s Party’ started up, by Oingo Boingo.
“Yes?”
“If you broke up with Budget Thanos ten years ago, what the hell is he doing following you into my bar tonight?”
I was torn between laughing and crying. It was all so absurd. Still, I had to come clean.
“Recently, I, uh… sorta started seeing him again.”
The blond threw up his arms in exasperation. “For fuck’s sake, why?”
“I’m a physical therapist,” I could only shrug. “I was subbing at one of our sister offices a few weeks ago, when Cole showed up with a blown knee. He was humble and apologetic, and it seemed like he’d grown up a lot in the past ten years. Especially since he’d hurt himself.”
“I remember that injury,” the clean-cut guy said. He had a pair of wire-rimmed glasses in his hand now. Casually he pulled out a cloth, and began cleaning the lenses. “It ended his career, didn’t it?”
I nodded. “He tried coming back. Took a few fights in the feeder leagues, but his knee was never the same.”
“I dunno, his knee looked pretty good tonight,” the bartender growled.
“Trust me,” I sighed. “I’ve seen his scans and MRI’s.”
The three of them were still looking at me skeptically. Not that I could blame them. I didn’t mind them looking, however. It’d been a while since I had any sort of positive attention, and each of my three heroes seemed hotter than the next.
“Anyway, we talked about old times,” I went on, “and for some reason I could only remember the good. Maybe I blocked the bad out, I dunno.”
“So you hooked up with him again,” the blond smirked.
Shit, was it really that simple? In retrospect, maybe it was.
“Look, Cole caught me at a time when I was burnt out. Broke. I’m working two jobs, so I have no life.
” I hesitated for a moment, then eventually shrugged.
“I guess I was missing companionship. And I was missing… other things, too.” I tried averting my gaze, but it was only a temporary escape.
“For once, I think I just wanted someone to take care of me.”
The third man put his glasses on, pushing them back with a long, delicate finger. Somehow he became even more handsome.
“Are you alright?” he asked in a deep, melodic voice. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, but he hurt someone else,” I admitted.
“We were at a Halloween party earlier, and Cole was being jealous and controlling. When he backhanded some guy just for starting a conversation with me, that was it. I snuck out and called for an Uber. Only he followed the Uber, ran us off the road, and pulled my driver out by the hair.”
The guys looked at each other in disbelief.
“Unfuckingreal,” snarled the blond.
“I beat on him with my pitchfork until it broke, and the driver managed to get away. Cole dropped his phone, though. As he was looking for it, I slipped down a side street and ran. I heard the music coming from this place, and that’s how I ended up here.”
I looked guiltily over to where the jukebox stood, now dark and silent. Its once-beautiful face was a jagged mess of glass stalactites.
“I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused,” I sighed. “I could’ve just called the police. I should’ve—”
“Hayden?”
I swallowed past the lump of regret forming in my throat. “Yes?”
“You did the right thing,” said the bartender. “You ran.”
His voice was soothing and sympathetic. Those mocha brown eyes, steady, and full of understanding.
“I’m Carter,” he said, extending a thick, masculine hand. “This asshole is Sawyer,” he jerked a thumb at the blond, “and Clark Kent’s secret love child standing behind you is Bodie.”
I didn’t know whether to break out laughing or break down crying; neither seemed appropriate for the situation. All I knew was that, for tonight at least, I was safe, secure, protected.
A simple handshake was woefully inadequate.
One by one, I flung myself into their arms and hugged them with all my might.