Chapter 19
NINETEEN
JAYDEN
A biting rage nipped at my heels the further I walked away. I embraced the chase of anger, much preferring it to the agony that ripped through me.
Fifteen minutes ago I’d been baring my soul to Mark, all but gushing about Sutton, how my feelings for the man had first grown, my initial confusion realizing what we had was so much more than I’d ever envisioned.
What a clusterfuck.
“Whoa.”
I all but smashed into Pearce. If he hadn’t grabbed on to my arm, we both would have been flattened.
“Where’s the fire?” The smile on his face slipped a moment later when I didn’t shoot back with a wiseass remark. “Man, you okay?”
“Sure.” I nodded and avoided eye contact. The last person I wanted to see was Pearce, not after the fight Sutton and I just had.
“You don’t look okay.” His gaze searched mine, but I couldn’t be here right now.
“All good. I just have to be somewhere.” I stepped around him. “I’ll catch you later.” Then I was out of there.
There wasn’t a chance I could go back to my room. The one I shared with my— I caught the thought, cutting it off abruptly. What I needed was a bar.
I patted my pocket, relieved I’d shoved my wallet in there this morning, and made my way to the exit, pulling out my phone as I did so. The plan was to get the hell out of here. I needed space to think and cool off. Drink my aching sorrows away.
Managing to make it all the way to the front of the main building without spotting anyone, I inhaled the fresh air.
A quick look at the map on my phone told me there were plenty of bars within walking distance.
I chose one that was tucked away off the main drag of the small town and followed the route to get there.
The whole walk I focused on everything but the ache in my chest, and somehow avoided clutching onto it, sure at any moment my heart was either going to break in two or stop beating altogether.
The sun was lowering, but it wouldn’t be dark for a few more hours. Between the steady heat of the sun and the gentle breeze, I managed to slow down my stride, still doggedly ignoring that damn ache.
Twenty minutes later, I turned into the smaller side street, seeing up ahead the sign for Wessex Bar. And not a moment too soon. Ignoring Sutton’s barb, his words and accusation were too hard, I tugged open the heavy door, glancing into the quiet bar.
It was a little too early for after-work drinkers, so the place was almost empty.
The lighting was dimmer than I expected, taking me a moment to readjust from the bright outside.
I zeroed in on the barstool right at the end of the bar, the farthest away from the door. It had my name written all over it.
Once I sat, the bartender, a middle-aged man with a headful of dark hair and just a whisper of gray on the edges, approached.
I wondered if, before Sutton, I’d have noticed a man’s appearance, considered if he was decent-looking or not.
My gut lurched, and before my emotions could spiral, the guy greeted me with a chin lift. “What’ll it be?”
Eyeing the bottles on the shelf, I winced.
Hard liquor wasn’t my friend. It never had been.
Give me a decent beer any day. Anything stronger tended to taste like shit.
But this was cause for desperate measures.
“What’s going to get me wasted but doesn’t taste like crap or make me gag? ” I asked honestly.
Considering my life was about to implode, and people would start to believe I was a cheating bastard, what was one more humiliation?
The bartender stared at me for a beat, nodded, and reached for a bottle. “I’ve got just the thing.”
“Actually, get me a couple and use your imagination, please.” I considered asking for six right off the bat, but knowing I tended to gag when attempting to knock back shots, I didn’t want to risk it just yet.
A few moments later, two shot glasses were set before me. “You wanna know their names?”
I eyed both drinks, one a light pink that looked watery, another creamy with what looked like whipped cream on it. “I’ll taste them first, you know, rather than letting the name sway me to my poison of choice.”
The bartender’s mouth twitched. “Have at it.”
With a nod of thanks, I grabbed both glasses, knocking back the pink concoction first, already wincing and preparing for the burn.
When I didn’t gag and my eyes didn’t water, I nodded in relief at the sweetness.
“Not bad.” Then it was onto the second. How the fuck was I going to get that down with all that cream?
I examined it, figuring out the best course of attack, investing far too much energy in the brilliant distraction this moment provided.
“Best to wrap your lips around it and down the whole thing.”
My gaze shifted to the bartender, and while he seemed amused at my focus, he didn’t seem to be setting me up. Nor did I see a camera in his hand. With a shrug, I lifted the glass to my mouth, wrapped my lips around the rim of the glass, and knocked it back.
It was sweet and creamy, and I readily dipped my tongue in to catch the last remnants of the cream.
“Do we have a winner?” he asked.
I pulled out a smile, knowing after a few more of these I’d be happily wasted, without the humiliation of gagging, and I could drift into oblivion for a little while. “This one for sure.” I indicated toward the creamy shot glass. “Hit me with their names, and I’ll have two more of those.”
“Sure thing.” He returned to the ingredients, saying, “The first one was a wet pussy.”
I snorted, because how could I not?
“Your favorite was a cum shot.”
My laughter was loud and a little overzealous. “Are you shitting me?”
The bartender smiled. “Nope. It’s all in the cream.”
I snorted out a hard laugh. Figured between a pussy and creamy cum, I’d opt for the latter. Story of my life at the moment. “Can I grab a beer too?” I eyed what was on tap and indicated toward what looked to be a local beer.
I knocked back the couple of shots as soon as they were in front of me, then took hold of the beer with thanks.
“You the owner?” I asked, seeking additional distraction.
My stomach felt warm, my head a little fuzzy, but it did nothing to distract me from the bitterness and hurt turning over my stomach.
“Yeah. Had this place for six years now. Moved out here from Minnesota.”
“No shit. What’s your name?”
He grinned and held out his hand. “Name’s Blake.” With a firm grip, he shook. “And you’re Jayden Moore.”
My shoulders sagged a little. Of course he’d know who I was.
Not only were we a stone’s throw away from Montview, but he hailed from the place I now called home.
“You support the Eagles?”
He folded his arms, stance relaxed, and an easy smile on his face. “Sure do. Used to have season tickets back in the day.”
“You been able to pick up a game recently?”
He bobbed his head. “Last season I caught the game against Ohio.”
I grinned, my shoulders easing a little. Given the chance, I could talk all night about basketball. Add in cum shooters and maybe I’d found the perfect distraction after all.
“Yeah? Good game to catch. Close game from memory.”
“Sure was.” Blake grinned. “One of your players especially had an impressive game, as I recall.”
I knew exactly who he was talking about. “The rookie’s got something, right? Game changer for the kid, that one.”
“He dominated both ends of the court. Not bad for a kid so young.”
I chuckled. “Shit, man. Twenty-four does seem young, right? Pearce gets pissed off, though, when I call him a kid.” I sipped at my beer, no longer feeling like I needed to neck the thing.
“You’re here coaching at Montview, right?”
It was no secret Sutton and I had joined the academy for the summer. “Yeah. It’s been a different pace. Interesting to be on the other side of the line.”
“They do some good work over there.” His gaze dropped to my hand. “You all healed? Was sorry to hear about the accident.”
Lifting my hand, I turned it this way and that, wriggling my fingers for good measure. “Finger’s doing well. I’ve finally been getting some decent ball time this week, when I can pry it away from these college kids.”
“I’ve heard they do like the limelight.”
“It will only get worse once they’re drafted and go wild those first few years.”
“First few years?” He raised his brows, amused.
I grinned. “Well, maybe eight or ten.”
Blake laughed. “Nothing wrong with making the most of your peak.” Another customer headed toward the bar. “You want another beer once I’ve served Marvin over here?”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
He tapped the bar counter and served Marvin. Left alone, I tugged out my phone, unable to resist taking a peek. It was still on silent, since I’d been in the middle of a session with Mark.
There were no missed calls, no texts. Well, at least not from Sutton. Rather than feeling relieved, my gut twisted. I’d left the academy a little less than an hour ago, yet he hadn’t reached out to me. I didn’t know what to do with that.
Just the thought of him pinched my heart.
I hated we’d argued, just as I hated that he’d expected me to perpetuate the lie and run with it.
Honestly, him all but suggesting I do so had knocked the wind out of me.
The Sutton I knew and l— I sighed and shook my head, finishing off my beer.
The tang of hops didn’t stop the flow of my thoughts.
Of course I loved him, something I’d already known and an emotion I’d never shied away from. But loved him loved him? Heck. That was too big of a minefield considering his out-of-character reaction to this whole mess.
Plus there was the whole thing about me not remembering that fucking kiss.
I hadn’t lied when back in Australia I’d told him he’d been the last person I’d kissed. As far as I knew, he had been. The film footage told a different story.
The club was one I recognized. Considering I could count on one hand how many nights out I’d had with some of the guys like that, I knew which night it was.