EIGHTEEN
Jaxson
As the owners of Blackwood Brewhouse, Holden and I don’t work together often. We try to make sure one of us is always here, so we’re always here at different times. It’s Noah’s scheduled night off, and our other bartender, Zane, couldn’t come in because his little girl is sick.
So tonight, it’s Holden and I running this place and having a good time.
Nights like this remind me of the first few weeks we were open, back when it was still just the two of us. Those days, we spent practically every waking moment in the bar. He taught me everything he learned through the certification course he took. His instructor turned friend, James, stopped by a few times to help out.
We’ve always taken the bar seriously, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves while we work. We like to compete to see who has the best moves flipping bottles and putting on a show. It’s fun for us, and the customers love it.
Holden is in the middle of making round of Flaming Assholes—how people drink that shit, I’ll never understand—and as he flicks the lighter to ignite the rum, two of his sisters push through the crowd.
Camille claims the barstool directly in front of me and Presley sits next to her.
Leaning toward Holden, Camille taps the bar top. “Stop showing off, brother, and make me a drink!”
He chuckles. “Little busy here, sister . You’ll have to wait like everyone else.”
Holden finishes the shots and moves down the bar to help someone else, leaving me to deal with the girls.
She looks directly at me, a teasing gleam in her eyes.
“Other brother from another mother! You don’t look busy, so you can make me a drink. Pretty please?” she asks, playfully batting her eyelashes.
I chuckle at her antics. She’s always had this bold, spunky personality. I’m glad that even after everything went down with Madelyn, my relationship with her family hasn’t changed. Her siblings still treat me like one of them. It’s comforting to know that not everything changed because of that night.
Presley is silent beside her sister, then again, it’s normal for her. Always the quiet one. She doesn’t usually speak unless she has something important to say.
“Sure. What can I get you ladies?”
“Rum and coke, please.”
I mix Presley’s drink while I wait for a response from Camille, sliding it across the bar top when I’m done.
When Camille looks up at me with a sly grin and a twinkle in her eyes, I know she’s about to fuck with me.
“Can I get a Suck, Bang, and Blow?”
“Not from me you fucking can’t.”
Presley chokes on a laugh, almost spitting out a mouthful of booze.
“Hmm. How about a Flying Finger Fuck?”
“Camille…” I cross my arms over my chest, shaking my head.
“A Creamy Pussy? Cunnilingus? A Slow Comfortable Screw? A Flaming Asshole? Golden Shower?”
I grow more and more disturbed with every drink name she rambles off. It’s not that I haven’t heard—or made—most of them before. People ask for that kinda shit all the time. But hearing it from a girl I consider a sister? So fucking wrong.
“Fucking hell, Cami! How the hell can you ask me for that shit with a straight face?” I fight the smile that threatens to break across my face. I know she’s trying to be funny, but I don’t want her to know I’m amused.
“C’mon Jax!” Her grin turns into a full-blown smile. “How about a Screaming Orgasm. You can make that happen, can’t you?”
“Camille Seren Sterling! What the actual fuck?” Holden chides as he gets closer.
Presley snickers, nudging Camille with her elbow. “Oooh. You’re in trouble. Big brother called you by all three names.”
Camille’s composure finally cracks, and she doubles over in laughter.
“Relax, Holden. I’m only playing. Jax looked like he needed a good laugh.”
“Him?” He points at me. “He’s not laughing. What he probably needs right now is to pour bleach in his ears. I know I do.”
The girls roll their eyes simultaneously. That’s all it takes for me to lose the battle with my amusement.
I love this crazy family.
“It’s all good.” I say through laughter, before quickly sobering my expression and pointing a finger at her. “But seriously, don’t ever ask me for that shit again. Save that bullshit for Noah and Zane.”
Cami brushes off my stern warning, but I know she’ll fuck with my guys later. She wouldn’t be Cami if she didn’t.
“So, what brings you two here, anyway?” Holden asks.
“Girls’ night out.” Presley explains. “We tried to get Mads to come out with us, but she declined. She always does.”
I don’t miss her solemn tone, or the hunch of her shoulders when she mentions Madelyn. But I’m not sure what it’s about.
“Pres, don’t get me started with that shit tonight. We’re here to have a good time, with or without Mads.” Camille says.
“Sorry,’ —she shrugs— “I was just being honest.”
“I know, sissy. It’s just a touchy subject, ya know?”
“I get it. You know I feel the same way.”
Their semi-cryptic conversation has my curiosity piqued.
“I don’t get it. What are you two talking about?”
The girls look at each other, silent communication passing between the two of them. Their lips remain sealed, but Holden’s don’t.
“Something’s up with Mads.”
“What do you mean?”
Breathing a heavy sigh, he explains. “She’s not herself lately. Pulling away from everyone again. Quiet and withdrawn. She’s lying and keeping secrets—even from me. I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Holden. It’s that asshole she married. He’s not a good guy.”
The three of us look at Presley. She’s the last person I expected to speak out, especially about her sister’s husband.
“Don’t look at me like that. Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I don’t have a clue. Actually, because I’m quiet, I tend to pick up on things more than other people and there’s something off about David.”
Guess I’m not the only one that sees it. I had a bad feeling about him, and that was before the incidents here in the bar. I chalked it up to jealousy, hating that Madelyn chose him over me. I’m relieved to know that might not be the case. But it doesn’t mean that I’m happy to hear this shit about Mads.
“And no one knows what’s going on?” I ask.
“I have my suspicions, but nothing concrete. Mads won’t talk. She insists everything is fine, but she forgets that I know her better than anyone. Except maybe you.”
“What do you think is going on?”
Camille and Presley both lean in, curious to hear the answer too.
“Nah, not going there. If I get any kind of confirmation, trust me you’ll be the first to know. I’ve got a close eye on her, and him. In fact, I want all of you paying attention. I know she isn’t coming around much but look for anything unusual when you do see her. I want to know anything you think might be suspicious.”
The girls agree without hesitation. Once again, I’m forced to sit on the sidelines feeling helpless. Madelyn won’t come near me. Not after the confrontation we had a few months back. She doesn’t come to the bar and she stays in the kitchen whenever I visit the bakery.
Holden’s vague comments have the wheels in my head turning. I have my own suspicions and I have a feeling they might be in line with his. If I’m right, Douchebag is in for a world of pain. Together or not, I will always do everything in my power to take care of Madelyn. Especially when that means protecting her.
“Damn. What’s got everyone looking so damn serious?”
Drake hops across the bar, grabbing a beer from the cooler.
“Sure, man.” I chuckle, grabbing a towel to wipe the counter. “Help yourself.”
He shrugs, taking a pull from the bottle. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I look over to see the three siblings carrying on a hushed conversation. I’m sure they’re still talking about Mads, but I know Holden will fill me in later.
“Just some bullshit with Mads. Nothin’ to worry about right now.”
“Nothin’ you should be worried about at all. Let her siblings handle her shit, bro. She’s not your problem anymore.”
Shooting him a glare, I turn away and start restocking the glassware. “Don’t start. You know I’m trying to move on, but I still love her. Not sure that’ll ever change.”
“You’re really trying to move on? For real?”
“I’m at least trying to let her go. I’m not ready to try to date or anything, but I’m trying to finally accept that she’s never coming back to me.”
I announce last call, but there’s only a few people left in the bar. Most are good about clearing out before we’re ready to close. Perks of owning a bar in a small town.
Drake hops up, sitting on top of the bar.
“Does this mean you’re ready to move out of that damn apartment? Or at least get rid of her shit. It’s been years, Jax.”
“I destroyed most of her shit.”
In a fit of drunken rage. I should probably feel bad about that, but it’s not like she ever planned on coming back for it.
“Not the point.”
I take a few minutes to really think about his question. He knows me well enough to give me some time to contemplate what it would mean for me to give up the apartment. Our apartment. He’s right. Her things are still scattered around like she never left. As much as I don’t want to, I have to let her go sometime. Hell, maybe moving out and starting over somewhere else would help me move on.
“Let’s do it. I actually know of this property that’s for sale right outside town.”
The grin on Drake’s face tells me I made the right decision.
It’s a step forward. Even if only a small one.
Deciding not to waste any time, I called Drake when I woke up and told him to meet me at The Sweet Spot. We didn’t see Madelyn, or the new girl, Hailee. Grams enjoyed having the two of us for a late breakfast. She likes doting on “her favorite boys.” We filled up on muffins and Danishes, and she sent us on our way with some extras for later.
Now, we’re pulling into the drive for the property I saw for sale. Once I see the sign, I dial the number and speak with the realtor. She agrees to meet us in about twenty minutes, giving us the go ahead to look around the property while we wait.
Parking, we get out of my truck and do just that.
The house is big, but a little run down.
“Whew. Gonna need some major TLC.”
I nod, agreeing with Drake’s assessment. “Got nothin’ but time. I can fix her up.”
Walking around the back, I take in the landscape. If I remember correctly, the house sits on about two acres, one of them being nothing but an open field. I look across the field and up at the back of the house. So much potential. I’m picturing huge patio with an outdoor bar. Big ass grill. A firepit. Better yet, a huge spot for bonfires. This place is perfect for entertaining.
The trees surrounding the lot provide privacy, not that there’s neighbors anywhere close. I think the closest one is over a mile away. I could get used to that.
We walk back around front, deciding to wait on the porch. Deciding to see what I can, I peek into the front windows to get at least a small glimpse. I’m getting excited at the thought of living here.
The realtor pulls in a couple minutes later and walks us through the house, going over all the specifications and special details. I barely hear a word she says. All I see is potential. And hope.
With a little time and a lot of hard work, I see everything this house could be. It’s so easy to visualize myself in this space. It’s a bit big for just me, but that only means there’s room to grow.
We get back to the foyer and the realtor finishes her spiel.
“What do you think, Mr. Blackwood?”
I look to Drake, a huge grin on his face, and he nods. I return the smile and look at the realtor.
“I want to make an offer.”