Chapter Thirty-Two. Holden
THIRTY-TWO
Holden
The bar is dim, the music is low and bluesy, the scotch in my glass is neat, and at least four patrons sitting in various parts of this bar on the east side of Fairmont are no doubt figuring if I’m worth jumping when I walk out to my car or not.
“You good, man?” the bartender asks, to which I nod and lift up my freshly poured drink as a thank-you.
Good?
That’s debatable.
“You looking for a fight?” the guy next to me asks.
His baseball hat is pulled down low over his eyes, and his hair in need of a cut hangs out from beneath the back.
He’s definitely a barfly. The bartender doesn’t ask what he wants and when a new one slides across the top, no money is exchanged because it’s on a tab.
“Nah. Just needing to be reminded of where I came from.”
“Here?” His laugh sounds like he smokes six packs a day as he looks me up and down. “No shit.”
“No shit,” I murmur.
“Why would you want to be reminded of this shithole?” he asks.
Because I have plans. I have things to accomplish. And … fuck. What would have happened if I’d met Rowan under different circumstances?
Would I have allowed myself to entertain the opportunity of having more with her?
“Ah. It’s a woman,” he says before I can respond.
“It would never work,” I state. It can’t. It couldn’t.
“No? Why not?”
My knee-jerk reaction is to tell him to mind his own business but I find myself answering him. “Because it wouldn’t.”
“Families hate each other? She’s the wrong religion? She’s your boss?” he asks.
“Hmm.”
“That bad, huh?”
I shrug and take another sip of my whiskey.
“Just because it would never work doesn’t mean you can’t still want it. Doesn’t even mean you can’t enjoy it for a little bit.”
Those words stick with me.
As I drive through the streets of Fairmont.
As I pull up to the curb and stare at the place I used to live and wonder if the teenager I was then ever imagined the chance of finding a woman like Rowan. A woman with drive, determination, and just enough gray in her to make me smile.
I head home after some time.
I sit on the balcony of my penthouse above the city that broke me and know this same city is where I’ll be made as whole as can be again.
And I think about a woman who doesn’t let me forget.
Just because it would never work doesn’t mean you can’t still want it. Doesn’t even mean you can’t enjoy it for a little bit.
Sleep eludes me.
That’s nothing new.
The only time it comes is when I’m with her.