Chapter 12 – Willa #2
The bell over the door rings when we step inside, and the bartender gives us a wave.
My companions all wave back, giving various greetings.
He’s tall and grinning wide, hands holding a glass that he’s drying, and he looks sort of familiar.
After a moment, I realize he must be Hallie’s older brother, Colton.
That’s confirmed when Hallie veers away from the group, moving to the bar and reaching over to hug him while we all move towards a large table that Nat tells me is theirs.
Once we settle, Jesse asks everyone for their drink orders.
“I’ll just have a diet soda,” I say when his eyes hit me after getting Nat and Wren’s drinks.
I expect an argument, for Nat to tell me I need to have fun or that I need to let loose, but there is none, just a nod from Jesse, who moves to get his brother’s order before walking over to Hallie.
He places a hand on her lower back, and she turns to him with a soft look before leaning into him.
I try to ignore the ache in my chest as I avert my gaze and look around the bar.
The bar isn’t packed, but it’s definitely busy, with most tables having a few people seated or standing around the high tops. Something feels strange, different, and a bit unsettling as I look around. I can’t put a finger on it at first, but then it clicks.
No one is staring at me.
I can’t remember the last time I went somewhere without having to be on, knowing phones were lifted and turned toward me, ready to capture any misstep or embarrassing moment.
When I think back, I realize that the same thing happened at the diner, to a degree, but not nearly like this. Here, it’s like I’m…no one.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Adam says with a laugh. I blink, trying to come back to myself, but the truth is, I feel like I did: the ghost of some life I never knew existed, one where I’m normal, where I’m a no one.
When I look back at them, I realize he’s grinning at me, thoroughly entertained. A blush blooms over my cheeks as I bite my lip. “I promise I’m not trying to be full of myself, but…no one’s staring at me.”
“And they won’t,” Adam says with a shrug, settling into the chair beside Wren and across from me. She smiles sweetly and leans into his side, but I’m stuck on his words.
“What?”
“They won’t stare at you. I mean, you’ll have a few here and there who want to talk or ask for a photo or a signature. But it will stay within the town. No one will bother you here, not unless you want to.” I stare at him, disbelieving.
“We take care of our own,” Wren says with a shrug.
“But I’m not…” I start, then bite my lip. I’ve been doing that a lot lately, and I suppose without Jackie here, I have no one to stop me. “I’m not…” I don’t have to finish because Wren understands.
“You’re part of the town. You’re here at the Mill with us, so it’s clear we’ve claimed you,” she replies as if it’s pure logic, and warmth floods my system at her simple, sweet words.
We’ve claimed you.
People have ‘claimed me’ or befriended me a hundred times over in my life.
But they’ve always had an ulterior motive, always were looking for some kind of connection or favor.
But as I look around this table, I realize that no one has asked me for anything, except once Adam asked me to FaceTime a twelve-year-old, which I was more than happy to do.
“So I can…” I ask, my words trailing off. Jesse and Hallie come over, setting drinks down, and I absentmindedly take a sip from my drink.
“You can let loose,” Adam says simply. Instantly, my mind moves to Leo’s insistence that I stay out of trouble and the subsequent chaos.
I haven’t seen or heard from him since, though with the way his arm felt on my waist, the unhinged and entirely inappropriate thoughts that went through my mind, I am more than happy with that.
“And if you do, no one will be the wiser.”
“No one would risk the wrath of Colton,” Hallie adds, picking up on the conversation effortlessly.
“The wrath of Colton?” I ask, trying not to look at the bar where the large teddy bear of a man stands.
“Oh yeah. He’s tough,” Hallie says. “Will kick anyone’s ass who gets on his bad side.” As seems to be the way, I can’t quite decode Hallie, though there’s a tiny quiver to her lip as if she can’t hold back much longer. Before she cracks, Wren rolls her eyes and sighs.
“He’ll just blacklist them. Hallie just loves dramatics.
” She lifts her bright red drink and takes a small sip.
“There aren’t many bars in town, and this is really the only good one if you’re under the age of sixty.
So if you get kicked out for good, you’re kind of out of luck in terms of socializing. ”
“Huh,” I say low, mind reeling.
Just then, the song changes, turning to some upbeat summer song from a few years back, and Nat turns to Hallie with wide, excited eyes.
“Dance?”
“Hell yeah,” she says, chugging her drink until it’s nearly empty, then standing. “Willa?”
I shake my head. “Maybe later.”
Nat glares. “Definitely later. You’re having fun tonight.”
“Let her be,” Adam says, surprising everyone. “Let her settle.”
Nat takes us in, then rolls her eyes and nods before skipping off to the center of the room to dance with Hallie, and I sit back and bask in the magic of Holly Ridge.
Thirty minutes or so later, I’m still nursing my drink, now mostly ice and watered-down soda, when it happens.
Some kind of energy shift, the door opening, and a bell jingling over the door, still heard despite the low music that’s playing.
Hallie promised me it gets louder, that she could probably convince Colt to allow karaoke again (something that, apparently, she and Wren managed to get outlawed two years ago after a very boisterous round), and every head in the bar turns to the door.
Leo walks in, gaze scanning the bar hesitantly.
My heart skips a beat, the same way it did when I saw him outside the cabin when I moved in, the same way it did when he caught me after toilet-papering his house.
The same way it did when we spent an hour chatting in a coffee shop years ago.
And just like that day, my eyes take him in, completely in awe of him.
It’s absolutely rude for a man to be such an ass and be that hot.
He’s in well-fitting jeans and a tight white T-shirt that shows off muscles I didn’t know he had across his chest, stretching the arms of his shirt.
He’s wearing fucking work boots, which feels almost illegal to see in the wild considering I’ve only ever seen him in custom-made shoes.
It’s like seeing Superman out of his costume or a lion without its mane.
Like this, totally out of his fancy, expensive suits, his normally neatly-coiffed hair a bit messy, like his hands have been running through it nonstop, pushing it back to keep it out of his eyes—he looks nothing like the man I sat across from in a business meeting.
“Leo!” Madden calls from the other side of the table.
Leo’s pleasant look as he waves to Madden melts off when his gaze slides to me.
His face transforms, expressions moving from confusion to shock to frustration in the blink of an eye.
When he recovers, his steps quicken, eyes narrowing on me.
I watch in utter fascination as the gap between us closes before he stops just a foot from where I’m sitting on a tall stool.
“Hey, Leo,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, irritation rolling off him in waves. I roll my eyes, whatever awed stupor he put me into upon walking in fading quickly with his attitude.
“This is getting kind of old, Sinclaire,” I say with a sigh. For a moment, when his face screws up in irritation, I second-guess myself. But then Nat snorts out a laugh beside me, and it fuels my sass.
I’m starting to like this new version of me who gives zero fucks, who doesn’t baby everyone or worry about how her actions will impact them.
I’m not hurting anyone, so what should matter?
“I’m staying in Holly Ridge to write with Adam, remember?” I say slowly, as if he can’t understand my words. He sighs, eyes drifting shut as he takes a deep breath before he speaks again.
“Yeah, I know. What are you doing here? This is a bar.” I look around, pretending to look shocked.
“Wow, is this what this place is? I didn’t know. I’ve never actually seen one in real life.”
“Drop the fucking act, Willa. You know what I mean. You can’t be out at a bar,” he says, and that now-familiar irritation brews in my veins, further pushing me to do whatever it is Leo tells me I can’t do.
He’s not my dad. He’s not my mom. He’s not even my manager.
“Well, I’m here. What are you going to do, throw me over your shoulder and take me home?
” A laugh bursts from someone behind me, but I don’t break eye contact with Leo, unwilling to lose this stare-down.
I’ve never had anyone pull this kind of reaction from me, never felt the consuming desire to argue and go toe to toe and prove someone wrong, but for some reason, I feel it surging anytime Leo opens his stupid mouth.
And it becomes even more pressing when his jaw goes hard, and his eyes flare with irritation.
“If I have to.”
My breath hitches at his words, and then the strangest thing happens.
His eyes drop, moving from my eyes to my lips like he’s watching where my gasp came from. For the smallest moment, I think his eyes heat, but it’s gone so quickly, I think I must have imagined it.
“You know what would loosen up this tension right now? Shots!” Nat shouts, and Leo looks away, then, shifting his glare to her. I laugh and start to shake my head because, despite feeling comfortable at this bar, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel comfortable enough to completely let go like that.
The one and only time I got drunk was my twenty-first birthday, and every paparazzi in a one-hundred-mile radius seemed to catch me stumbling about, taking shots, dancing with everyone and anyone, and generally having a good time.
The next morning, I was so terribly hungover, but it was the lecture Jackie gave me about messing with the brand that made me realize it just wasn’t worth it.
America’s sweetheart doesn’t get shitfaced drunk and grind on strangers, after all.
“Absolutely not,” Leo says before I can respond. I narrow my eyes at his tone, so firm and unwavering.
And I say fuck it.
“Hell yeah!” I shout, lifting a hand in the air.
Leo’s mouth opens to argue, but Hallie and Nat grab my hands, and we nearly skip to the bar, where Hallie orders something and Colt lines up three shot glasses.
Leo’s gaze burns a hole in my back the entire time, but I don’t turn to check until the girls, and I tap our glasses in a cheers.
Only then do I turn to look at Leo, then hold his gaze as I lift the small glass, gesturing toward him in a toast with a small smile on my lips before I down the drink.
And even if I refuse to admit to myself, I don’t think the burning warmth in my belly is from the liquor.