16. Johnny
JOHNNY
The creak of the door is the only noise that alerts me I’m alone in bed.
His bed. And he’s not here. I sit up, my guts churning at the thought he may be having second thoughts.
Even though he told me multiple times he didn’t, doubt is a fickle bitch that creeps in at every opportunity—even for someone as confident as me.
“Walt? That you?” I yell as I try to get my wits about me.
I blink at the clock on the nightstand, hardly believing it’s past ten in the morning.
Holy shit. I haven’t slept this long in ages.
I release the tight grip I didn’t realize I had on the sheets as I hear footsteps in an unmistakable gait echo across the hardwood floors before reaching the threshold of the bedroom.
“Morning.” His deep voice greets me with a shy smile. “Got us some coffee and a kringle if you want to join me in the kitchen. Or you can keep sleeping, and I can make you a fresh pot when you get up?”
I run my hand through my sleep-tousled hair. “No, no. I’ll get up. I can’t believe I slept that late,” I say, jumping out of bed almost as fast as my heart leaps out of my chest.
He got me breakfast.
“Guess that’s what a night of not sleeping will do to you,” he says with a smirk.
We take a seat at the table, both grabbing for pieces of pastry.
“Damn, this is good,” I groan as I devour the whole thing, its sweetness mirroring what’s swirling in my belly. “Thank you. For this.”
I swallow hard, flicking some of the crumbs in front of me. He was so vulnerable last night, willing to open up to me in so many ways. I owe him some of that too.
“I’ve lived in a lot of places, slept on a lot of random couches, floors.
” A sad smile creases my eyes. “I even spent a night in a laundromat after my parents kicked me out. Places I shouldn’t have stayed, with people who I shouldn’t have been with, who I knew were taking me in to be kind but didn’t want me there forever.
And in all that time—no one ever bought me breakfast.”
Walt sips his coffee, hiding the smile daring to peek out. “Well…we needed some food after that workout.”
I snort. “I think you like buying your way out of trouble. Vodka, a key, coffee, and pastries. What else you got up your sleeve?”
He sets his cup on the table. “What am I in trouble for?”
“You left without telling me this morning. You can’t leave a man in your bed with no goodbye…he might think you’re trying to run.”
“You were in my bed. I was always going to come back.” He smirks. “But now that you mention it, I do have something else.”
I tilt my head, my brows raised. “Oh yeah?”
He nods as I take a sip of the caffeine my body’s craving. “When I was at the pastry shop, they had some posters on the wall. And I saw one and decided…” He taps his fingers on the table, the rhythm faster and unsteady. “I decided I’m going to try.”
My jaw falls open, but no words spill out. What the hell is he talking about?
He pulls an envelope out of his coat pocket and passes it across the table. I feel the heat flush on my own damn cheeks, and I swear a tiny little bit of mist forms in my eye. Must be some dust in here. I open the packet to find two tickets to tonight’s Riders game.
“You got me hockey tickets?”
“No,” he says firmly as he places a hand on mine. “I got us tickets.”
I walk around the table, palming his cheek. “You don’t have to do this. You know that, right?”
“I know. I mean, I’d like to not make out in front of the entire arena, but we can maybe share a popcorn.”
“Walter Bennet, are you asking me to share a popcorn bucket with you?” I gasp. “What if people see us and think that we…you know…both like popcorn?”
His deep roar of laughter is warm enough to melt the thickest layers of ice during a winter storm, my body heating at the sound.
“I could listen to you laugh all day, boss. In fact, I’d do just about anything to hear that sound every day.
” I lean in to press my lips against his in a quick, gentle, morning kiss like any other couple.
Would he want that? To be like any other couple?
The hope woven into the thought is strong, but that damn fickle bitch of doubt still creeps in.
He could get angry, panic, and spiral at any moment.
I shake away the thought, choosing to focus on what’s in front of me.
Him. “You know, now that I think about it, no one’s ever gotten me gifts before.
It’s almost like you want to sleep with me or something. ”
“Something like that.”
“Milwaukee Steel Riders gooaaal! Scored by number ten, Gordon Calhoun!” the announcer yells over the loudspeaker, my cheers joining in with the roar around me. The Riders are up 3–2, and the crowd is going wild.
“You weren’t kidding!” Walt leans over to yell above the noise of the fans. “This is a fun sport.”
“Have I been wrong about anything yet?” I ask, settling back into my seat.
He shakes his head with pursed lips. “Very funny.”
“Well…have I?”
“I don’t think we’ve covered enough topics.”
I laugh and give him a quick little nudge on the arm. “Maybe we can play Trivial Pursuit later.”
“You like board games too?”
“If it’s one I can whoop your ass at, you bet I do.”
His shoulders shake as he laughs. “Didn’t peg you as the competitive type.”
“I’m not that competitive, buuut…” I sing-song as I lean in a little closer, making sure he’s the only one that can hear me. “I think you’d like it if I whooped your ass.”
The flush across his cheeks is redder than the line in the middle of the ice. I sit back and toss a handful of popcorn in my mouth, knowing I’ve gotten him rattled once more. If getting him worked up is a game, then I’ll work my damnedest to be sure I win every time.
“Hey, Walt; that you?!” a voice calls out across the crowd, interrupting the moment.
The man beside me who was joking around moments earlier turns white as a ghost, his body rigid as he scoots as far away from me as possible. My stomach twists harder than the ankle of the player they took back to the locker room earlier in the game. This can’t be good.
“Oh…hey, Bob,” he says, his voice strained as he forces a smile.
“I thought that was you! How you doing? Haven’t seen you around Miller’s Pub lately.”
Walt clears his throat as Random Guy Bob continues to grill him. “Yeah; opened my own place so haven’t been back there lately.”
“You’re kidding? I’ll have to bring all the guys by for drinks! Where’s it at?”
“Over on Water Street. Walt’s on Water.”
“I’ll come check it out,” he says, looking my way. “Who’s your friend?”
My teeth clench behind my smile. This is not an ‘introduce me to your friend’ question. His judgment is practically tattooed across his smug face. Shit.
“Oh, this is Johnny. He’s my, uh…he’s my…”
“I’m his bartender.” I reach across Walt to shake Bob’s hand as he stands on the steps next to our seats. “Been telling this joker for a while he needs to come see a Riders game.”
His eyes narrow, darting between the two of us, as a bead of sweat forms on Walt’s forehead. I want to reach over and hold his hand, rub his back, do something, anything, to help. But I hold back, not wanting to make things worse.
“Glad you finally got this grump out to see a game.”
I take a deep breath. Bob seemingly believes what we’re telling him. I mean, it is the damn truth, so we’re not lying. Nope. Nothing to see here.
“Good seeing you, Bob,” Walt says.
“Yeah, you too. I’ll bring the guys by sometime soon.”
“We’ll see you around.”
“Nice to meet you, Bob!” I shout as he walks away and throws a halfhearted wave over his shoulder.
“Fuck,” Walt says under his breath.
“Hey.” I inch away, reminding my body once more not to touch him or freak him out in the slightest. “It’s okay. I am your bartender. All we did was tell the truth. Just two co-workers, watching sports.”
He takes a deep breath as he nods to himself. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right. Just a couple of guys watching hockey. It’s fine.”
Except it’s not fine. He doesn’t say another word for the last two minutes of the game.
He doesn’t look my way. He doesn’t eat another piece of popcorn.
He only stares at the players on the ice in front of us, completely in a trance fueled by fear.
One that starts to creep into my chest before I shut it down like the goalie who just grabbed the puck headed for the net.
I gave him an out. I told him we didn’t have to come here. He said he wanted to try. A pit forms in my stomach. Maybe trying isn’t enough? Maybe you’ve got to want something so bad you’ll do anything to make it happen.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as we drive back to the bar. I know I would. I’d go all in for this man. But he’s not there yet. And now I’m not sure he’ll ever be.