Chapter 4 Set Apart
Set Apart
This was a stroke of genius on my part.
I drummed my fingers on the worn surface of the dark oak table as I looked around The Beaver Dam.
Or it might crash and burn down the whole town.
Encapsulating the entirety of Sage Ridge’s party scene, The Beaver Dam wasn’t what anyone would call fancy. Or even cohesive. But it had atmosphere.
A heavily tarnished dark oak bar stretched along one wall.
Matching, high-backed booths lined the perimeter of the restaurant, the lighting becoming dimmer and more intimate the further back they sat.
A smattering of tables dotted the area in front of the bar, and beyond those lay the smallest stage in the western hemisphere.
For once, it was in use.
It wasn’t often The Beaver Dam managed to snag a band. Apparently, the bassist of this one grew up in Moose Lake and had invited his former band, Drivetrain, up for his bachelor party. What better way to celebrate than jumping at the chance to play together?
They were incredible.
The lead singer, a sexy Viking, belted out song after song in a deep raspy voice that fairly demanded your panties. Thank God there was no one there I was willing to give them to. In combination with the spiked Kool-Aid, it was heating up to be a thigh-spreader of a night.
Noelle and Harley, both pregnant, had bowed out of the night’s festivities to stay home with their respective husbands, Hawkley and Daire.
This left Max and Wren, Gabe and Shae, Max and Gabe’s friend Julian, Kian, and me. We gathered around one of the small tables. Except for Kian. He pulled up a stool at the bar just behind us.
Shae practically sat in Gabe’s lap. My girl was getting her happy ending in more ways than one going by the way Gabe’s eyes ate her up.
Now, that man, with his full sleeves of tattoos and devil-may-care attitude, was a treat. And he had made it clear, the only one eating his dessert, was Shae.
Fuck, I think I’m hungry.
I half stood and poked through the basket of fries on the table and grabbed the last few stragglers as I watched Shae flush at something Gabe said. After everything she’d been through, she was due a good man.
Maybe he was a little bossy, but by the looks of her pink cheeks, it worked for her.
I wasn’t much into that myself.
I snorted.
Not unless I was the one doing the bossing.
“You talking to yourself, Bridge?” Wren teased.
I laughed and sat back down in my seat.
As soon as the band took a break, Julian, Max, and Gabe settled into their usual banter, teasing Wren and making Shae blush. Despite Gabe repeatedly attempting to draw Kian into conversation, he orbited the perimeter of our group like a solitary electron, belonging, but set apart.
I understood how that felt.
It had been two weeks since I hi-jacked their celebration at Susie Q’s, and I’d run into him and Isaiah countless times since. They still came into Mary Lou’s nearly every day, though they now took their treats to go.
If he was sending a message, I got it loud and clear.
I even agreed it was better not to get involved.
Most of the time.
Still, when Shae called saying there was going to be a band playing at The Beaver Dam, Kian was the first person that came to mind.
Half of me wanted to invite him, draw him into the fold.
A small town held many charms, but it was not always easy to infiltrate social groups that had been in place for decades. Me, Kian, and Isaiah moving in had created a veritable explosion in the population.
For me, Sage Ridge was an easy choice.
For Kian, it was more complicated.
Twenty years ago, he walked away from Wren, his pregnant one-night stand. By the time he got his head on straight and tried to track them down, they were smoke.
When he found Aaron through an ancestry test, he packed up his younger son and moved to Sage Ridge.
It was not the best or most welcoming of circumstances.
It made sense to invite him as he was deeply connected to our ‘family’ through Wren and Aaron. And Wren had encouraged me to reach out to him. She was sure, eventually, Aaron would want to know his father.
I wasn’t so convinced.
Aaron was an incredibly sweet kid. But the Aaron who showed up whenever Kian was in the vicinity was angry, hostile, and barely civil.
So, that was the one half.
The other half, the half of me that was far too interested in making Kian smile, the same half that harboured an increasingly strong curiosity about the callouses on his hands and what they might do to the inside of a girl’s thighs, objected.
Strongly.
But when I came downstairs to Mary Lou’s and found Kian on his knees repairing a loose baseboard? I couldn’t leave him out just because I had a little touch of the hots for him.
I was doubly glad I invited him when Anita told me he refused to charge her anything.
Based on our most recent encounters, I figured he wouldn’t come. Probably wouldn’t even respond to my text.
Who would look after Isaiah?
But I challenged fate and sent Kian an invite.
Fate picked up the gauntlet then danced around it like it was a stripper pole because Kian accepted.
Despite his discomfort, made obvious by his choice of seat and lack of conversation, he looked happy and somewhat relaxed.
When I couldn’t stand his solitary state any longer, I stood and nodded to my girls. “I’ll be right back.”
Do you know what you’re doing?
He’s Wren’s.
Sort of.
My eyes flew to her face. “Wren—”
Wren held up her palm. “Bridge, you go there any way you want to. I told you I have no claim on that man. Not in any way, shape, or form. And I would like to see him happy. I want him to stay for Aaron’s sake.” She smiled. “More, I want to see you happy.”
I drew back, my eyes wide. “We’re not even friends. I barely know him.”
Wren smiled. “But you would like to be.”
I swallowed roughly. Could I admit this? To them, at least? I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe?”
Wren laughed. “Well, go figure it out then.”
Instead of leaving, I sat back down. I had a higher objective in mind than my reawakened and suddenly robust libido. “You wouldn’t mind if he hung out with us? On the regular? Max wouldn’t mind?”
“Not in the least,” Wren assured me.
Taking advantage of the relative quiet as the band took their break, I slid onto the vacant stool beside Kian.
Lifting my drink, I found the straw with the tip of my tongue and drew it into my mouth before taking a sip of the deceptively sweet concoction.
Kian’s eyes dropped to my mouth, his lids growing heavy as he watched.
The zing that jolted through my pelvis warned me to go easy on the cocktails. I cleared my throat. I was here to make him feel welcome, not welcome him to cop a feel.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
He lifted his glass. “Straight up Pepsi for me.”
“You don’t drink?”
Kian shook his head and looked down at the bar for a second before answering. “Never.”
That ephemeral something I noticed last time I’d been with him hit me again. Despite his large stature, the breadth of his shoulders, and the steely muscles in his arms, he needed someone in his corner to protect him from shouldering the harsher realities of the world alone.
A soft place to land.
For reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, my desire to be that someone bordered on desperation.
My chest expanded to house the unfamiliar warmth even as I considered his words. I cocked my head to the side and leaned closer. Dropping my voice for his ears only, I asked, “Alcoholic?”
He slanted me an amused look. “You’re very forward.”
You’re too brash and abrupt. It’s off-putting. And frankly embarrassing.
“Sorry.” I drew back immediately. Struggling to meet his eyes, I apologized. “None of my business.”
His eyes softened. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
I snorted and hazarded a second glance. “Isn’t it?”
The laugh lines around his eyes deepened. “At least there’s no room for miscommunication.”
Shaking my head ruefully, I corrected him, “Oh no, apparently I’m lacking there as well.”
“Hm,” he hummed. “I lost my wife to a drunk driver. Haven’t been able to stomach the stuff since.”
My startled gaze flew up to find his eyes soft on my face. “I’m sorry.”
As soon as the words passed my lips, I winced. Was there a weaker phrase in the English language? ‘I’m sorry.’ Of course you’re sorry. We’re all fucking sorry.
Sorry doesn’t change anything.
I winced.
“Thank you.” He tipped his glass up to his mouth.
Loathe to leave him to his solitude, I wracked my brain for something else to talk about. “How are things going with Aaron?”
He sputtered and coughed, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then chuckled, his eyes alight. “You’re not very good at small talk.”
Inside, I shrank, curling my shoulders in slightly. Outside, I moaned theatrically to cover my shame. “I’m really not.”
Reaching out, he gently and all-too-briefly covered my hand with his. “It’s a good thing, Bridge. You’re a good soul.” His eyes twinkled. “There’s no doubt in my mind what you’re thinking. For me, especially right now, that’s a really good thing.”
It was the first time he’d truly looked at me without a single hint of wariness. The life and mischief he’d passed on to both of his sons shone in his eyes.
Recovering, I winked. “I’m good at listening, too.”
He smiled back, the tension he usually carried in his shoulders all but erased. “I just might take you up on that.” He swept the condensation off his glass with his thumb. “Aaron and Nadine are at my place looking after Isaiah.”
My eyebrows flew up. “That’s great!”
His pretty mouth tightened. “It is. For them. Aaron is head over heels for Isaiah and the feeling is mutual. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a whole lot of time for me.”
“I’m—” I cut myself off before saying the dreaded ‘I’m sorry’ once again. “That sucks.”
He barked out a laugh, his sad eyes meeting mine.
Mesmerized, I couldn’t look away.
“It does suck,” he agreed. “It all sucks a whole fuckuva lot. But I’m blessed to have a piece of my wife with me always in Isaiah. I finally found Aaron. And he’s sitting at my house right now, bonding with his little brother.”
“It’s a start,” I murmured.
He nodded shortly, his smile small but hopeful. “That it is.”
The sounds of the plucked strings of a guitar floated across the bar.
I glanced back at my seat between Shae and Wren.
“Return to your girls,” Kian ordered gently. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a long while. I’m good here.”
I took him in, feeling that warmth in my chest expand further. Maybe both of us could use a friend. I smiled into his eyes as I settled back in my seat. “I’m good right here, too.”
The shaggy blond guitarist hopped up on stage and crossed to the drummer, slapping him on the back. The drummer tossed his head back and ran his hand through his messy black hair before twirling his sticks through his fingers.
The Viking grinned and shook his head at something they said, while the bassist ducked his head with a wide grin, his shoulders shaking.
They obviously knew each other well.
My smile was bittersweet.
They had something I desperately wanted.
A home in each other.