Chapter 15
15
Spencer
“Another?”
“Make it a double.”
The weathered bartender nods and stalks off.
If I’m not mistaken, he’s the same guy who poured me a glass the first time I stepped foot in this old western-style saloon. Though the jukebox leans more modern country these days, the interior decor proudly boasts the original furnishings.
I’ve had my ass on a stool here more times than I can count over the past twenty years, usually with Lucas belly up to the bar beside me. This is the first time in a long time I’ve sat here alone. Nothing but my thoughts and the decisions that lie ahead to accompany me.
Only one thing occupies my headspace since we touched down in Minneapolis last week.
Or one person, I should say.
And she’s the last person I should be thinking about.
How can I not when I can vividly remember how she feels in my arms and how she tastes on my tongue? I’d be a fool to regret our time together. Staying with her was a gift I didn’t deserve.
The bartender taps down a glass in front of me with a nod.
“Thanks,” I mutter, saluting him before tossing back a mouthful of bourbon. The warmth coats my throat, leaving behind a touch of butterscotch as it slides down easily to rest in my stomach.
“Look who it is!” That recognizable booming voice could only belong to my boss, Danny. The stool beside me scrapes across the floor as he takes a seat, and I’m reminded once again that Lucas isn’t in that chair.
“What are you doing back in town?” Danny points at my glass, then gestures to the bartender to bring him the same.
“I haven’t decided yet.” I rest my heel on a rung and fiddle with a napkin. “I might stay, or I might pack up the rest of my shit and get out of here for good.”
“Where’re you thinking about heading? Not back home, I hope.”
Our eye contact is brief before I return my attention to my hands. The puckered scars on the right seem to blend more in this dim lighting.
“Might be exactly where I go.”
“Ah, come on, Spencer. You and I both know there’s nothing good left for you in that town.” He claps me heartily on the shoulder, sending my ribs into the bar.
I cut him a glance. “Says who, your nephew?”
Danny rubs his fingers over his handlebar mustache. He hasn’t shaved the thing in the twenty years I’ve known him, but it’s grayed considerably since we met.
“Going back and running into Jim is asking for trouble.”
“I’m not an eighteen-year-old kid anymore. I can handle trouble.” I swallow another mouthful.
“You and I both know what he did was wrong, but he still holds power there. I heard he’s retiring soon. You should wait him out.”
“You really think he’s going to continue holding a grudge that he had on a kid from twenty years ago?”
Danny slaps down a couple of bills. “Don’t forget he’s still your brother’s boss. Both of them if I heard correctly.”
My neck muscles tighten. “Are the two of you talking about me?”
He shakes his head. “Hell no. Hadn’t heard from him for years until he called to check on me after the fire.”
“Probably wanted to know if I was dead,” I mutter bitterly around the glass rim. Licking the heat from my lips, I set the drink back down.
Danny conspicuously avoids my statement.
“Things are good out here, aren’t they?”
“I have a family back home. Friends.” Her.
Fuck, I miss her. The way her head feels on my chest at night as we listened to the ocean waves crash on the shore. The smell of her coconut shampoo. Her simple touch. How good it felt to hold her in my arms.
“You’ve done some reconnecting.” For nearing his seventies, he’s still plenty sharp, and he knows me too well.
“I want to get back and see my mom before it’s too late.”
“I get that.”
“And my brothers. I even have a niece that I met for the first time. She’s seven .”
Danny fails to hide his wince.
“She’s not even scared of me,” I go on. “Doesn’t look twice at my scars. She isn’t fazed by the fact I look like a scary bastard. She put a tiara on my head and demanded I have a tea party.”
“Sounds nice.”
I give up on the shredded napkin. “Would you go back if you had something to go back to?”
Danny just shakes his head. “You’ve got a nice life here.”
I had a nice life here.
“Didn’t think we’d wind up talking about your departure.” He clinks his glass against the wooden bar. “Thought maybe you’d say you’re coming back to work.”
“I’m not cleared yet. PT has me doing some exercises for the scar tissue on my shoulder. It’s limiting my range of motion.” I lift my arm, demonstrating where things get tight. I let the limb drop. “To be honest, I'm not sure I want to.”
“I get that. It hasn’t been the same without the two of you around.”
Grief swirls with the bourbon sitting in my gut. “Yeah.”
His knuckles rap twice on the bar. “Job’s there if you want it, but I’ll get by if you don’t. At the end of the day, you have to do what’s best for you. I’ll just say I don’t think Jim’s the type to let bygones and all that shit.”
“Just to add, I think your nephew is a dick.”
“Don’t I know it. Some people get drunk on power and don’t know what to do with it.”
Silence falls over us as we both turn our attention to the Major League Baseball game playing on the screen. I watch the players without paying much attention. My thoughts are miles away. Hundreds, to be more precise.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
I consider not checking it, but knowing it could be Sutton or Silas or even Mom, I drag the device out.
A burst of adrenaline floods my veins at the name on the text.
I urgently tap the notification, and a picture opens up.
The backdrop is painted in tangerine hues as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. The ocean is silver and navy blue, white-capped waves suspended in the still shot. Our legs touch, feet crossed at the ankles, and sand sticking to our skin.
Cortney follows with a one-word text:
Paradise
Five minutes pass as I study the image before I send one back.
In this photo, she sits alone on a beach lounger. She’s wearing a large woven sun hat, gazing out at the water with nothing but my favorite yellow bikini on. Her knee is cocked, and the wind blows a few loose tendrils of her dark hair across her peaceful face.
I write back:
Paradise
Cortney
I miss it
I stare and stare but no matter how hard I try, I can’t make that text say something else.
You, I want her text to say I miss you.
Before I say something we both regret, I pocket my phone.
Cortney may miss the breathtaking sunsets and the white sand beach, but the thing I miss most is her.