Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
ATTICUS
The door of The Rusty Anchor swings open with a groan of ancient hinges.
In the bright light of the early afternoon and without the crowd, the noise and the drama of that first night, the place feels smaller. Like I’m walking into someone’s living room uninvited.
Dom is behind the bar, sleeves rolled to his elbows, arranging bottles on the back shelf. His tattoos catch the weak light streaming through the windows, dark ink shifting over lean muscle as he moves.
The only other patron is an older man at the far-end of the bar, who doesn’t so much as look up from his beer as I take a seat a few stools down from him.
“Kitchen’s not open yet,” Dom says without turning around. “Come back in an hour if you want food.”
“I think I’m good on that.”
The sound of my voice gets his attention. He glances over his shoulder, dark eyes assessing me with an unreadable expression. He slowly sets down the bottle he’s holding and turns fully to face me.
“Sloan.” A slight lift of his chin. “Wasn’t expecting to see you without your entourage.”
I lean forward to rest my elbows on the bar. “Figured I’d get out of the house. See the town.”
Dom studies me for a beat longer than necessary. Then he reaches for a glass.
“Little early for drinking.”
“Coffee would be fine.”
His eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t comment.
Just turns toward the ancient coffee maker tucked into a corner behind the bar and starts the ritual of producing something drinkable.
The machine gurgles and hisses like a dying animal, but a few minutes later he sets a chipped ceramic mug in front of me.
The coffee is dark as tar and smells strong enough to strip paint.
I take a sip. It’s surprisingly decent.
Dom leans against the back counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with an expression that’s half curiosity and half suspicion.
“So.” He drums his fingers against his bicep. “If you didn’t come to drink and you didn’t come to eat, what exactly brings you to my fine establishment at—“ he checks the clock on the wall “—one-thirty in the afternoon?”
I set down the mug, running my thumb along the chip in the rim.
The truth is, I’ve been doing mental math for the past day. And I really don’t like the only logical answer to this equation.
In four days, we leave. Phoenix has a contractual obligation to fulfill and Mason would follow her off the edge of a flat earth if that’s where she needed him to go.
But what are we leaving behind?
I take a careful sip of coffee. “What do you think will happen to Judah when Mason leaves?”
Dom goes very still. Then he reaches for a rag and starts wiping down a section of bartop that’s already clean. “What makes you so convinced that Mason’s leaving?”
I recognize that level of denial, I’ve existed in a similar state for a while now. “Because Phoenix can’t stay here.”
The rag pauses mid-swipe. Dom’s jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath the stubbled skin. “It’s really like that, huh?”
“You were there.” I don’t look away from him. “You saw how it was between them.”
The rag drops to the counter. Dom braces both hands against the wood, head bowing forward, shoulders rising and falling with a single unsteady breath. When he speaks again, his voice is rough at the edges. “Not a whole lot more I can do than pick up the pieces. Again?”
“What do you mean?”
Dom laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Just a bitter edge that makes my chest tighten.
“You know what’s funny? All I ever wanted growing up was to get the hell out of this town.
” He pushes off the bar, pacing the narrow space behind it with restless energy.
“I had so many ridiculous plans. Dreams. Whatever you want to call them. Figured I’d see the world, make something of myself somewhere bigger than a fishing village where everyone didn’t already know me. ”
He stops, one hand gripping the edge of a shelf hard enough to whiten his knuckles.
“But then Mason left. And Judah fell apart.” The words come out quieter now, stripped of their defensive edge.
“And I didn’t feel like I could go, too.
I couldn’t leave Judah on his own because God knows what he would have done to himself if I hadn’t been there to stop him.
And even though I get seasick, I spent three years on that damn boat because the family needed crew and Judah couldn’t be there. ”
“You stayed for them.”
“I stayed because they’re my family.” Dom’s voice cracks on the word. He clears his throat, but the damage is done. “Enough time passed that leaving felt more like a daydream than anything actually possible. Now here I am. Thirty years old, tending bar in the same town I’ve lived in my whole life.”
“But you still have your best friend,” I point out. “That’s something.”
“That…is the only light at the end of a very dark tunnel.”
I turn my coffee mug in slow circles, watching the dark liquid ripple. “You two sound like a pack.”
Dom scoffs. “Two alphas don’t make a pack.”
“Three alphas and two omegas could.”
Dom chokes on nothing—actual, physical choking, his hand flying to his chest as he coughs and sputters like I’ve just suggested something genuinely insane.
“You can’t be serious,” he manages when he can breathe again.
“Why not?”
“Because—” He waves his hand in a gesture that encompasses everything and nothing. “Because that’s not how this works. I’m a bartender with a criminal record and we’ve known each other for less than a week.”
“I’ve heard crazier stories. Packs form when you least expect it all the time.”
Dom goes completely still. “Did Phoenix tell you about the poster?”
I raise an eyebrow at the absolute panic in his voice. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Fuck.” He drags both hands down his face, silver rings glinting in the dim light. “Forget I said anything.”
“Sure.”
He sighs. “This is fucking surreal. Phoenix is a goddamn movie star.”
I meet his gaze without blinking. “She’s also a woman who deserves to be loved. Try treating her like it and you might be surprised how far that takes you.”
The words seem to knock something loose in him.
His hands fall to his sides as his posture relaxes.
“Four days ago, my biggest problem was whether Earl Miller was going to start another fight with the Sinners. Now I’m getting relationship advice from a rock star in my bar at one-thirty in the afternoon. ”
“Life comes at you fast.”
“Yeah.” He huffs something that’s almost a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
We sit with that for a moment. Finally, I drain the last of my mug and set it down with a decisive click.
“For what it’s worth,” I say, sliding off the stool, “I don’t think any of us know what we’re doing. We’re all just making it up as we go.”
He takes a deep breath and then blows it out. “I appreciate the advice.”
“Anytime.”
I’m halfway to the door when Dom’s voice stops me.
“Hold on a second.”
I turn back and give him an expectant look.
He’s leaning against the bar again, but his posture has shifted. There’s a glint in those dark eyes that I recognize—the look of a man who’s about to make a deal.
“I wasn’t going to bring this up. But if you’re so interested in handing out favors, I could use one more.”
I chuckle at that. “What’s that?”
“The night you performed, the bar did more in sales than we did in the last month.” Dom’s mouth curves into something that’s not quite a smile. “My boss has been riding my ass ever since, wanting to know if I can convince you to do it again before you leave town.”
I blink at him. “Your boss wants me to perform?”
“Offered me a cut of the profits if I can make it happen.”
“Did he offer the cut, or did you negotiate it?”
Dom scoffs. “I negotiated. The man’s never offered anyone anything he didn’t have to.”
I can appreciate the need for a mercenary perspective. “Happy to help.”
Dom’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“No strings? No demands about dressing rooms or imported water or whatever else celebrities usually demand?”
I laugh. “The guitar was a little out of tune last time. If you could get that fixed, I’d consider it a personal favor. And I’ll take a few free drinks in between sets.”
“Done.” Dom straightens, looking as excited as his normally dour countenance will allow. “Tomorrow night work? We can spread the word, pack the place.”
“Sounds good.”
I feel Dom’s gaze on my back as I walk away. I’m sure he’s trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Why would a musician who has sold out worldwide tours offer to play a dive bar in the middle of nowhere in exchange for a few beers?
He’ll figure out soon that I’m playing for something much more valuable than money.