Chapter Twenty-Two ADAM
Chapter Twenty-Two
ADAM
Coming here was not the brightest idea I’ve ever had.
The ice clinks against the side of the glass when I swirl the amber liquid.
Nearly three months without touching alcohol, and here I am, tucked in at the far end of the bar, setting the drink back on the counter for the fifth time, without quite taking a sip.
Every time I walk into a room, she finds an excuse to leave. At dinner, she pays more attention to the plate. When she doesn’t take trips to Silver Lake Falls escorted by her guards, she locks herself in Eliza’s barn.
At least she’s painting again.
And I can’t even blame her for any of it.
I don’t know how to look at her without wanting to apologize and touch her in the same breath.
Guilt pulls me away like an anchor cinched around my middle.
When her back quivered against my chest, I thought she was coming apart from pleasure.
Until I heard the quiet sniffles and felt my stomach bottom out.
The memory of those red-rimmed eyes still cuts like a knife through my chest.
“Never seen you around before.” A tall brunette places her beer next to my glass with a wide smile, her glossy lips shining in the light of the neon signs above the bar.
“Just passing through,” I say.
I don’t know what I’m doing here. It was stupid of me to even order the whiskey.
Being with Jackie again blew the hinges off whatever self-control I had left, and now I can’t stop thinking about her.
The sounds she made. The way her body answered mine.
None of it was polite. Nothing demure. Just real and raw.
I should move on from Jackie, but I don’t know how.
“I’m Jenna,” the woman says, undeterred by my silence. “I could show you around, while you’re here.”
“Thanks, I’m not looking for a tour.”
“Maybe for some fun time?” Her voice drops.
I don’t even want to pretend I’m interested. It used to be easy to get distracted. I’m over that.
“Adam.” Sheriff Walker sags onto the barstool next to me, groaning, and the old chair looks about to give out under his weight. I’ve been around hockey players, but this man is massive.
“Sheriff,” I say quickly, grateful for the opportunity to focus my attention on him.
“Making friends?” he says, glancing at the brunette still waiting for an answer.
“Yeah.” I give her a small, polite smile. “Thanks, dear, but it’s not something I’m interested in right now.”
She pouts, shifting her hips, and her very short denim skirt lifts dangerously. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here Saturday night,” she murmurs, bending closer.
“If it isn’t Silver Lake Falls’ most wanted bachelor,” another woman chimes, sliding in next to Jenna, with a bright grin for Walker.
“Ladies.” The sheriff touches the brim of his hat and looks around for the bartender. It seems they’re out of luck tonight.
But they just giggle. “Off duty? Come grab a beer with us over there,” the blonde says, hitching her thumb over her shoulder toward the booths.
“Not tonight,” he says politely, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just grabbing a bite on my break.”
Both women sigh dramatically. “See you around,” Jenna says, wiggling her fingers, and they make a beeline for a table full of people who sound like they’re a couple of drinks in.
Walker looks at my untouched drink. “The Salt Pier down at the harbor is the place for top-shelf drinks.”
I snort. “You must have me confused with Carter.”
One of his brows climbs.
“I’d never even seen an ice ball press until I met him. We grew up in different worlds.”
The first time he took me to his estate on a break, I was struck speechless. I knew who he was, but seeing the sheer size of it, the view, the staff, the ease of it all, was overwhelming.
Walker chuckles. “Yet you became friends.”
“Best friends,” I say and mean it. “He wouldn’t sell you out even if you waterboarded him.”
“Interesting.” Walker hums, thoughtful. “Explains a few things.”
“He’s stressing out about Hall,” I feel the need to add and defend him. I know how he comes off sometimes. “He’ll be on edge until you catch him.”
“Trust me, I’m not sleeping great either.”
Walker’s attention drifts past me, past the rowdy tables, suddenly laser-focused on a back booth. Where Quinn sits with a man I don’t recognize.
I can’t imagine how she feels after her involvement in last year’s chaos. I’m surprised she’s out on a date. That takes guts.
The man lays his hand over Quinn’s on the table, closing the distance between them and whispering in her ear.
Walker’s eyes narrow, and he straightens in his chair, hand settling on the butt of his sidearm. I’d be extremely worried if I were Quinn’s date right now.
“On your break, huh?”
He snaps his head back at me and scratches his jaw. “How was your date?”
My look of utter confusion pulls his mouth into a really smug smile.
“I’d avoid the Italian place if you plan to stick around. Don’t think Jackie wants to be associated with the mob.”
“Jackie?” It comes out louder than intended, the sound edged with a poorly disguised rush of jealousy at how quickly he got on a first-name basis with her.
“Settle your britches,” he drawls, relaxing back with a smirk. “I’ve got them under surveillance. Check out the French place downtown next time. It’s better for a romantic dinner.”
“We’re not—” I stop, and he looks at me sideways. “We’re friends. I think.”
Walker barks out a gruff laugh. “Maybe think harder.”
“Why is that place open anyway?” I scramble for a change of subject. “If you know it’s the mob?”
“They have their uses,” he says cryptically, and it makes me even more curious.
I rest my elbows on the bar, chest expanding with a deep sigh. “My hometown was never this exciting.”
“As far as you knew.” He studies me. “Bet you didn’t run with the wrong crowd.”
“I don’t know. The HOSA kids got pretty rowdy when the anatomy models came out,” I drawl.
Walker barks out a laugh, loud enough that Quinn glances over, brows knitting before she quickly leans back from her date.
“Something wrong with your drink?” He nudges my glass with a knuckle.
The ice is almost gone, the whiskey pale and thin. Blurring my problems with hard liquor is not a solution. I need a clear head. Maybe it will stop me from doing something else stupid.
The way I lost all control in the boathouse showed me once again how far gone I am for this woman.
“Wrong order,” I say, sliding the glass farther away. “I don’t need it.”
Walker nods, like I’ve passed a test, and lifts two fingers. “Coffee for him. Burger for me.”
The bartender places the cup in front of me. It’s bad, the kind that tastes like it was filtered through a used hockey sock, but I wrap my hands around the warmth anyway.
I love her. She’s always tucked away somewhere in my heart, a bright ember that burns my chest, but now that I know what made her flee to London, I can’t see a way back.
Jackie was right. I also tell myself it was a mistake. That I won’t touch her again.
My body doesn’t believe a word of it.