Chapter 18Olivia
Olivia
Lauren’s out with coworkers tonight, so I’m going to the brewery solo. Normally I wouldn’t be owning the night by myself, but I decided this exception was necessary. Besides, I will have pepper spray and walk to my car with someone I trust.
Even if I didn’t feel one hundred percent secure, Cade’s presence fills that gap for me. After finally coming face-to-face with him, a fresh confidence was dug up inside me. A spirit I thought had vanished without a trace that night in the alleyway.
But even so, I clip the bobble chain around my ankle before slipping my leg in my black thigh-high boot.
I’m safe.
The crowd is snowballing when I walk inside the brewery behind a large group of friends.
My gaze steers left, immediately gripping onto the view of Cade pouring beer from the tap handle.
Warm lighting accentuates the ink peeking from the bunched sleeve of his solid gray flannel, but the best accessory he wears is that smile.
A shameless grin is plastered on my face as I make my way to the far end of the bar. I slip onto a stool, taking my coat and bag off before crossing my legs. My black miniskirt bites into my thighs, but fortunately the discomfort washes away when Cade’s head swerves in my direction.
He flashes a kind smile as I tangle my forearms over the finished bar top. I sprout a tender grin in response, but as soon as he spots me, he tends to a couple other people the next minute.
I pivot my head to the side, dodging eye contact with his employees. There may be two other bartenders working, but I’m really not interested in their service right now.
My fingers aimlessly fiddle with my curtain bangs, the sound of Cade’s voice drawing nearer like clockwork. “Almost didn’t recognize you with the high ponytail,” he says, slipping a paper coaster in front of me.
My body straightens, eyes welcoming his immaculate face. “Almost didn’t recognize you with the backward snapback.”
“What can I get you?” he asks.
I flip my palms up. “What do you suggest?”
He curls his hands around the edge of the counter. “Since you aren’t much of a beer drinker, I’ve got a seasonal winter ale,” he responds. “There’s hints of cinnamon and spice, so I’m thinking you’d probably like that.”
His cool tone parallels the amusement flashing in his eyes, and my stomach tumbles. “Okay, then.” I drop my hands to my seat, gripping the edges of it. “Let’s do it.”
Cade taps a hand on the bar top in satisfaction, spinning around to grab a can from the fridge at the other end of the bar. When he slides back in front of me, he places a glass down before cracking the beer open and pouring the auburn liquid inside.
My eyes settle a little too long on his tattooed hand clutching the can, the stainless-steel ring practically sparkling under the light fixtures. I swallow thickly, hypnotized by the veins wrapping around both his forearms.
The clashing of metal catapults my attention to the drink he’s gliding toward me. He seemingly just chucked the can under the bar, and a gentle smile waits for me to accept his service.
“Ah, give me a second.” I hold a finger out before digging into my belt bag.
“This is on the house, actually.”
I flick my head up, drawing my brows in. “No, it’s definitely not.” When I pluck my credit card from my wallet, I extend it to him. “Here.”
“You bought me coffee the other day. It’s on the house,” he pushes.
“To be fair, I was making up for the coffee I spilled on you. So technically, I just replaced your coffee.”
His palms lay on the bar top again, eyes pinching on a tiny smirk as he says, “If you measure how stubborn you are in a situation like this, multiply that by ten, and that’s how persistent I can be.”
I roll my eyes, slipping my credit card back in the wallet insert. “Thank you.”
“Let me know what you think.” He cocks his chin just as I zip my bag back up.
I bring the glass to my lips, sucking a generous taste. Notes of warm spice linger behind, and I lap the sweet scraps. Then my chin tilts up in feign deliberation. “Hmm … seven out of ten.”
“Considering you don’t drink beer, I’ll take that.”
“It’s actually a perfect score if you think about it. I usually take off three points automatically because it’s beer,” I tease, inwardly cringing before drawing another sip.
He’s smiling, but the energy behind it is vaporized. Somewhere between tasting the ale and my shitty joke, Cade’s spirit has dwindled. He’s looking at me but doesn’t see me. His mind might as well be on another planet.
“Are you here until closing?” I ask, placing the ale on the paper coaster.
“I’ll be here for a bit,” he corrects, popping his head over his shoulder for a brief moment. “I’m usually here just to help with the madness on Saturday nights. I don’t have to stay until closing, but sometimes I do.”
I shrug, my heart pounding in my eardrums as I shovel every ounce of courage inside me. “Maybe we could go somewhere after?” I ask softly.
He shines that void smile again, bare of any character at all. “I can’t.”
His response impales my heart, a sharp piercing that threatens to remain lodged there.
“Oh.” My gaze dives down, the dejection in my voice as evident as it is humiliating for me to think this stood a chance. Whatever this is.
A biting heat scrolls over my face, surely brightening it a faint shade of red as my fingers fold my long bangs behind my ear.
“Olivia, I have a girlfriend,” he confesses. “I should have told you that when we were at the coffee shop this morning. I’m sorry that I didn’t.”
A bucket of ice water collapses on the fire that’s been burning inside me. All the flames that have danced higher and higher ever since I held those metal wings.
His admission strangles my heart, and all that’s left for me to do is absorb the pain. How could I be this stupid? This blind?
My throat clogs, the appropriate words failing to leave my mouth. “How long have you been with her?” I ingest a breath, sitting straighter to reach for my drink.
“Three years.”
Three years.
I feel mugged.
Like the core of my soul has been gouged out with no good rhyme or reason.
Visions of her beauty harshly strike my mind, knowing she has to be absolutely breathtaking.
When my eyes bounce around, my stare catches a raised white line that runs the length of Cade’s left forearm. A mark I haven’t noticed at all—probably because it blends behind his sprinkled hair, or because I’ve been preoccupied with fighting or flirting with him.
I swallow, my stomach tenting when I’m uncertain if he wears that scar for me. But I’ve traveled too far down this road to never get an answer, and there’s no way I’m turning back now.
“Are you in love with her?” I blurt out the question, my pulse raging in my neck as I anticipate his response.
“That’s a little inappropriate to ask.”
“It’s a simple question,” I cautiously counter, finally meeting his eyes.
“And you don’t need an answer.” His rugged jaw tightens, chest inhaling a breath as he peels himself off the bar. Those crystal-blue eyes drift further away as he prepares to say goodbye, when all I want to do is shout for them to stay.
Then I realize … they’re already gone.
He was never mine to claim in the first place. And maybe Lauren was right. Maybe my imagination is too giant for my own good.
“Enjoy your drink, Olivia.”
I prop my elbow up, resting my chin in my palm as Cade disappears around the bar. My eyes wander, a blank expression surely cutting into the mingling bartenders and customers. But if I’m going to be rejected, I might as well take advantage of being surrounded by alcohol.
My free hand winds around my glass, and I sip on the ale. The notes of cinnamon don’t taste nearly as delicious as they did a minute ago, but Cade was nice enough to pay for it. Might as well hold up my end of the bargain.
I’ve been demoted to a charity case.
Wretched.
I blow out a small breath, the ends of my curtain bangs whisking from the draft when a voice cuts through. “Are our drinks that terrible?”
My posture straightens, Jake’s familiar blue eyes now invading my line of sight.
I toss a smile as I shake my head. “No, this is actually very good.”
“So,” he says, planting both palms on the glossy counter. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Ugh.” I sigh, waving a hand as I sink back in the stool. “Trust me. You wouldn’t be interested. You’re better off asking anyone else in this brewery for an entertaining story.”
He retrieves a white rag from his jeans pocket, wiping the surface between us. “I can respect that. But if you need a stronger dose, we still have the sour you enjoyed last weekend on tap.”
“I totally could use a dose of something,” I grumble. “Should I bother asking for tequila?”
His pearly whites flash in an instant, chest bouncing through a chuckle. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but this is a brewery, ma’am.”
I crinkle my forehead in feign surprise. “Really? I totally thought this was a distillery instead. You really should consider including ‘brewery’ in the name of your company.”
Jake lifts off the counter to stuff the cloth back in his jeans pocket. “Okay, I know we’re joking, but you’d be shocked how many people a day ask if we serve liquor.”
“I was definitely one of those people at one point,” I admit flatly. “Now I know for sure that bartender is talking shit to someone else right now.”
He laughs, tilting his head sympathetically. “I won’t judge you too much.”
I shoot a small grin, raising my drink to him. “Much appreciated.”
“Just call me over if you want that sour, okay?”
When he shuffles away, I hold a finger out while gulping down the ale. “Wait.”
“Yeah?”
My face contorts apologetically. “I didn’t mean to say that your drink sucked last weekend. It wasn’t true at all.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I was told to play along. No hard feelings,” he says, flashing a smirk.
I bob my head, cheeks burning from my blatant gullibility. “Of course you were.”