Chapter 1 #2
“New gym owner. I was telling him about the fall fest, told him to get in touch with town hall to get himself a booth.” Lance squeezed my shoulders. “Seems like a nice guy.” He slapped me on the back before moving off to brush a kiss to Hudson’s cheek.
Damn.
A wave of longing washed over me.
I wanted that.
Wanted it so bad I was pretty sure the blood ran green through my veins.
But fuck that. I didn’t want to want that. I didn’t want to feel the longing for a close connection to someone.
I used to think I would never get over Missy, but several shitty years—and a lot of recent therapy—had shown me that Missy and me were a disaster waiting to happen from the get-go.
We weren’t meant to be. We weren’t the perfect match.
We were oil and water, and the only thing better than her leaving me would have been me never getting involved with her in the first place.
But I couldn’t completely regret the years Missy and I were together since I got the two most important people in my world from it.
And I was honestly so damn happy for both my boys.
They’d each found their person and looked to be journeying toward their own happily ever afters. And what was I doing? Recovering from a heart attack by drinking too much. Homeless while insurance fucked around on getting my house renovated. And wishing like hell I had what my boys had found.
But exactly what was it I was wishing for?
My person.
Girl? Guy?
Hell, I didn’t know. And wasn’t that just icing on the cake of my fucked-up life? Since when was I unsure about who I was attracted to? Back when I was a teen, that thought would have sent me into a panic for sure. Hell, it did send me into a panic back then if I was being honest.
Fuck.
Where had that thought come from? I hadn’t let myself revisit those feelings in years.
That was in the past, right?
Right.
But now, in my present? Honestly, I didn’t even think I cared anymore.
Therapy had helped me a lot, and I knew I needed to open myself up to building relationships—not even romantic or sexual ones, just relationships period.
But then I’d spiral through a chunk of time and convince myself no one in their right mind would ever be able to put up with me. Who wanted to spend their time with a cranky, foul-mouthed, middle-aged man battling a defective heart?
Damn. Depression and getting older was for the fuckin’ birds.
Just as I was about to say fuck it and call it a night, Jack strummed his fingers on the bar. “Who’s ready for cake?”
That boy and his cake.
Jack was truly talented both in baking and decorating cakes, but his truest skill came into play when he matched his cakes with Henry’s meals and cocktails.
The kid had a real flair for pairing cake flavors with just the right mixed drinks, and it showed in how successful the Let Them Eat Cake portion of the Roadhouse menu had become.
Henry and Jack hadn’t been running the addition for long, but I was damn proud of how well it was going.
And I wasn’t one to brag, but it felt fuckin’ fantastic to be a part of it.
Something my boys hadn’t known until recently was I’d spent some time getting a certification in graphics and design, so I’d been able to help Jack with quite a bit when it came to setting up the business and putting our best foot forward on social media.
Getting that certification and working on the projects throughout the course had been one of the only things that kept me sane a couple summers ago. Maybe I needed another project to keep me busy—keep my mind occupied and productive—so I could get myself out of the funk I’d fallen back into.
Hudson stood and stretched before yanking Jack off the stool. “Let’s goooo,” Hudson crowed. “Cake, cake, cake, cake,” he chanted with his hands on Jack’s shoulders like they were in a conga line.
I glanced between Lance and Henry, noticing my son’s eye roll for his brother before a softening for Jack.
Lance’s face held the same gentle affection as he watched Jack and Hudson make their way to the little addition.
I knew damn well Lance’s eyes were on Hudson’s ass, but I couldn’t even muster the energy to give a fuck.
“He’s really excited about the cake he made you,” Henry said softly, the underlying threat of don’t you dare hurt him very much present in his words. He nodded toward our little group. “Go ahead. I’ll finish this up and be there in a minute.”
Taking a deep breath, savoring the tiny bit of peace that washed over me when I allowed the air to fully expand my lungs and flood my body, I took a last swig of the shitty light beer and turned to join my friends.
Just as I shifted, the guy from the end of the bar stood.
He tossed a couple bills on the bar, gave a quick nod to Henry, and moved toward the door.
As he made his way across the Roadhouse, his eyes traveled to the little addition where Jack baked, decorated, and sold his cakes.
A lift of his chin made me think he’d maybe made eye contact with Lance.
Right as he reached for the door, the guy’s eyes landed on me.
Damn, he had pretty eyes.
Nice smile.
Fuckin’ hell.
Never should have mixed liquor with beer.
I averted my gaze and made my way toward the birthday cake.
I was lonely, getting older every damn day, possibly one day closer to another heart attack—and my old ticker might just do me in with one more chance—but the least I could do was enjoy some cake.
To hell with the doctors saying I needed to cut back on snacks and sweets. I wasn’t dead yet, and a little bit of cake wasn’t going to kill me. At least not right then.
I’d do better.
After cake.