Chapter 34
Logan
Monday at the bar felt absolutely calm in comparison to the storm this weekend had been.
Sunday had been quieter, certainly, even though I’d been somehow roped into cleaning Erin’s car with her and Gage.
That had proven fun, actually, despite us gagging from the smell.
We’d teased each other and tried out pranks while cleaning.
Erin had been vocal about liking my boyfriend, which was great.
Not that I’d expected anything different. Gage was definitely charming.
I went in today to finish the usual paperwork and make sure we were well stocked after a busy weekend.
Not that I didn’t trust my managers, but a business owner who didn’t keep his finger on the pulse of his business was one doomed to fail.
I’d learned this lesson by observation. The first bar I’d bartended at had failed within a year in because the owner became obsessed with starting a restaurant and ignored the bar.
I wasn’t making the same mistake.
So here I was, doing inventory, as well as an overall sweep of the place to make sure nothing was broken or needed attention. I also made sure things had been cleaned up properly. Seemed like everything was in order—
My phone rang and I answered it absently. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Logan McNair?”
This sounded like a professional call, which immediately put my guard up. “It is. Who’s this?”
“I’m Mark Hussle, at Anderson Law Firm. I’m calling on behalf of your grandfather’s estate.”
Several parts of his sentence made no sense to me. “I’m sorry, estate?”
There was a pregnant pause. “I’m confused. Did no one tell you your grandfather passed on Saturday?”
The world went strange and still and quiet. I stood in my bar, a territory I’d made solely mine, but for a moment the space felt incredibly foreign to me. Nothing seemed real, not even my own breathing, which sounded shaky. It felt like I was suddenly disconnected from reality.
Someone using my voice responded. “No. I hadn’t heard that.”
“I’m so sorry, I thought someone in the family had notified you. It must be horrible hearing it from me.”
Some instinct sent me into the nearest chair, which I practically collapsed into, as I just didn’t have the strength to stand.
I felt like tears were coming, but they weren’t here yet, and I was left in this odd emotional limbo.
My brain was still processing things, my mouth was still answering, but I had no emotional attachment to this moment.
Knowing me, the emotions would hit later, like a fucking freight train.
“I’m estranged from my family,” I said in a strangled voice, like he needed the explanation. “I hadn’t heard. How did he die?”
“Peacefully, from what I’m told. Passed away in his sleep.”
I was glad for that, fiercely glad. Also dismayed I hadn’t been able to say my goodbyes to a man who, for better or worse, had driven me to be the man I’d become.
Anger built in me, too, at not being given the chance.
I’d have dropped everything and gone straight there if someone had just told me he was on his deathbed.
Rage, like quicksilver, flashed in my blood.
Bastards. All of them.
“Thank you. Has his funeral happened yet?”
Poor attorney sounded flustered, but he answered gamely. “It’s set for Friday. I can have my office email you the details, as we arranged part of the funeral on behalf of the client.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“I, uh, actually called to tell you the contents of his will. He left a sizable inheritance for you.”
Was this a fever dream? Had I fallen somehow, hit my head, and this conversation was what my brain chose to torture me with? Because those words made zero sense.
“I’m sorry?”
“He left you his bar. Are you familiar with it?”
This had to be a dream. Nightmare. Something other than reality. After denying me the bar when I’d pleaded for it, after years of ignoring me since our argument, on his goddamn deathbed he chose to leave the bar to me?
What a sick joke.
“I don’t want it.”
There was another pause, like he didn’t know how to respond.
“I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, Logan.
By law, I have to transfer ownership of it over to you.
If you don’t want to keep it, sell it or give it to another family member.
But I have to initially give it to you, at least.”
Shit, did I really have to take it? I hated the very concept. Even I wasn’t quite sure why, my emotions were in such a jumbled mess. Might take my therapist to help me figure it out.
“Send me…whatever you need to send me, then. Thank you for telling me.”
“Again, I’m so sorry I was the one to break the news. My office will send everything over to you.”
“Thanks.” I ended the call.
Then I just sat there, staring blindly into space for the longest moment.
My father was an uncaring piece of shit who believed the world revolved around him, so I could see how, in the wake of Erin’s desertion, he would choose to punish his kids by not telling us our grandfather had passed.
My god, the cruelty cut like a knife to my heart.
I’d never, ever forgive him for how he’d handled this.
I fiercely wished I’d tried to reach out to my grandfather before now. After I’d established Blackbird, I’d thought about it, but somehow it had felt too juvenile to crow that I’d succeeded on my own and hadn’t needed his help. In the end, I hadn’t made the call.
I’d also been waiting on him. He knew where my bar was—it wasn’t like it was a secret in this town—and he could have easily walked into the bar at any point and talked to me. He never had. I’d taken his silence as rejection, again, and refused to be the one to break it.
Was it pride? Wounds? Something had kept me from picking up the phone. I regretted it so much right now, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. Where was a necromancer when you needed one? I had a lot of things to say to that incredibly selfish old man, but I’d be talking to a headstone now.
The thought drove me out of my chair, and I grabbed whiskey and a glass before standing right there at the bar and knocking back a shot, then pouring another.
Then I stopped because I realized very quickly that I didn’t actually want to go down this road, where alcohol numbed my emotions.
That was a slippery slope I didn’t need to tread.
Besides, alcohol never fixed anything. It wouldn’t fix this situation.
I didn’t know if there was enough alcohol in the whole damn bar to help.
Some instinct had me reaching for my phone.
My hand shook, and I almost dropped my phone twice.
I stopped, breathed, tried to regulate my emotions enough to at least handle the surge.
Almost proved impossible. Grief was hitting, hard and hot.
I started to call Gage, then realized my voice wouldn’t come out.
I felt my throat clamping down, mostly around the grief and tears welling up, and words just couldn’t muscle their way through.
But I needed him. More than ever before.
I texted instead. Bar now please
Gage was quick to respond. Five minutes
Bless him for not asking why and simply coming. I loved him all the more for it.
I stared at the drink for another moment and then decisively poured it down the drain.
Bad as I felt, I didn’t want the drink, not really.
I wanted him. Gage was better than the finest alcohol anyway.
I felt tears escape my eyes. I didn’t fight them, just let them come, sinking into grief like a millstone into an ocean.
Warm hands touched my shoulders, and I looked up into Prussian blue eyes filled with concern, and seeing that broke me like nothing else could.
Gage’s open love and worry were so much better than the whiskey still in the bottle.
I turned to him, burrowing my face into his shoulder, felt him catch me, and just held on.
I sobbed like a child, my fingers tangled in his shirt, grief and pain and regret a heady cocktail in my gut.
Nothing but raw pain came out of my mouth.
I couldn’t even explain to him why I was like this—the words kept clogging up my throat.
I felt raw under the onslaught, my emotions like sandpaper scouring me from the inside.
Gage held me tight, one hand stroking my hair, and he let me get it all out.
Eventually, my tears settled down, and I felt my grief recede a hair, letting me breathe. The emotion had run its course for now. I’d take advantage while I could, because the pain would surely hit me again, and likely when I was least prepared for it.
I lifted my head, looking for something to clean my face. I’d made an absolute mess of Gage’s shirt. I found clean bar towels stacked next to the sink, snagged one, and wiped my face.
Gage silently took a step back, grabbed a water bottle from the fridge behind the bar, and handed it over to me.
Yeah, water was likely a good choice. I felt dehydrated after all that crying. I took the bottle, swallowed half the contents in one go, felt a little better for it. Funny how bodies reacted even when grief threatened to consume you.
Gage didn’t ask, but the question was in his eyes, and I had to tell him what was going on if I wanted his support. I had no doubt he’d support me, but I had to clue him in first.
“My grandfather died on Saturday,” I explained in a rough voice. “I just got a call from a law office informing me.”
“Oh fuck,” Gage choked out, eyes flaring wide. He was so stunned it took him a second to formulate a sentence. “Wait, Grandma’s husband or…?”
“No, he’s been dead for years. My father’s father.”
“Ah. The one who owned the bar.”
He’d put the pieces together quickly. Thank god. I didn’t have it in me to explain everything in detail.
Gage blew out a breath, looking away, and I could tell he was mad now. “Your own family didn’t tell you he died?”
“No.”
“Fuckers.”
I nodded in agreement, because yeah. That was exactly what they were. “Gets worse.”
“Sweetheart, I’m scared to ask how this can get worse.”
“He left me the bar.”
Gage stared, a man waiting for the other shoe to drop. “The bar…Wait, the bar you wanted to inherit and he told you no chance? That bar?”
“Yuppers.”
“What the actual fuck is wrong with your family?” Gage ran a hand through his hair, face screwed up in a grimace.
His reaction made me feel better. Like I wasn’t overreacting and my feelings were justified. Thank god this bullshit happened after Gage and I had started dating. I shuddered to think of how I’d have handled this without him.
“So the law office actually called to tell you you’ve inherited the bar.” Gage put the rest of the pieces together just fine without me. “And you learned in the process your grandfather had died. Wow. Has the funeral happened yet?”
“No, it’s on Friday.”
“Do you want to go?”
That right there was a loaded question. Did I? I didn’t even know at this point. “I don’t know. My instinctive answer is no, there’s no point. I’d just be fighting with the family who attend. I do want to go to his graveside service, though. If for no other reason than to yell at his headstone.”
“I think yelling at his headstone is justified at this point.” Gage was thinking at high speeds, judging from his furrowed brow. “Do any of your siblings know? I can’t imagine they would’ve kept it from you if they had known.”
Shit, he brought up a good point. My brothers and I weren’t tight, but we loved each other, and we tried to be good to one another. We were just very different people, and I was still making up for some of the shittier things I’d done as a teenager. Still, if they’d known, they’d have told me.
“I’ll bet they don’t know. My asshole sperm donor likely didn’t tell anyone because we all coordinated to take Erin from him.”
“I realize he’s justified in being angry at you guys, in a way, but there’s limits to his anger.”
“Tell him that.” Blowing out a breath, I pulled my phone closer. “I’m going to call my siblings. I’ll tell Erin after she’s back from hanging out with friends. At least she can be told face-to-face.”
“Let’s move to your house first,” Gage suggested gently. “So you’re able to sit on a couch and eat comfort food.”
Seriously, so glad I had him with me. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
“I’ll drive you, too. You shouldn’t be driving in this state.”
Probably the safer call.