Chapter 12
LAWSON
“Lawson, you’re gonna be late.”
I continue to kiss Nova’s neck, not bothering to tell her I’m already late. I was supposed to meet my brothers five minutes ago, but I’m still here with her on her tiny couch in Mount Casper, a good fifteen-minute drive from the bar. And I can’t bring myself to care.
“Have I ever told you how soft your skin is right here?” I murmur, pressing my lips to the underside of Nova’s jaw before moving over to the spot below her ear. “Or here?”
She laughs, the sound a little breathless, and tries to push me away. “Don’t you need to leave?”
I groan against her skin. Leaving this apartment right now is the last thing I want to do. “I’m gonna cancel.”
She pushes at me again, managing to dislodge my face from her neck so she can look at me. “You can’t cancel. You told me your brothers are annoyed that you haven’t been around.”
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. She’s right—I’ve been cancelling on my brothers all summer, with increasing frequency, and they’re definitely starting to notice.
Every day I tell myself I’m just gonna come clean. Now that I know Nova isn’t actually working for King, that in fact she wants to leave town just to avoid him, there’s not really anything keeping me from admitting to my brothers who I’ve been seeing.
But I can’t seem to bring myself to do it.
Every time I picture telling Mac that I’ve taken every chance I can get to fuck Victor King’s niece, something stops me.
Maybe it’s the memory of how his face would look every time King used to show up at the Low Bar.
Or the way he still looks, even now, whenever the asshole’s name is mentioned.
And what’s the point of dredging all that up when she’s leaving soon anyhow?
Thinking about her leaving has something akin to panic clawing up my throat, so I once again bury myself in Nova’s skin, pressing hot kisses along her neck.
The urge to lose myself in her never quite goes away, even after weeks of this arrangement.
“You know, I’m not busy tonight,” Nova says, and I immediately note the difference in her tone. She sounds unsure, a little nervous. Not like herself. “Maybe I could stop by? See the bar?”
My stomach immediately goes into free fall. Part of me wants that—so fucking bad. To show Nova the place that means so much to me. To reintroduce her to my brothers, as my girl this time. For her to get to know them, and them to get to know her. To see if she would hit it off with Julianna.
But another part of me recoils from the idea. Nick knows who she is, a voice in my head reminds me. Nick will tell the guys that I’m spending all my free time with Victor’s niece.
“Or not,” she says when I don’t respond right away. Immediately, I feel like a dick. Her voice is light but I can hear the note of hurt underneath. She thinks I don’t want her around my brothers.
“I’m just thinking it will be boring for you,” I say quickly.
“We’re just playing poker at Mac’s.” My brother lives in the apartment over the bar.
It’s a good place to hang out when we’re all off work because it keeps us close in case our staff needs anything.
“You should come sometime when we can have a drink, so I can show you around the place.”
She nods, not meeting my eyes, and I feel like shit.
“Sure,” she says, still in that easy tone that feels false to me.
“Some other time.” She clears her throat.
“Or not. I mean, I know we’re not…you know.
Together like that.” She laughs but it sounds brittle.
“You don’t have to invite me to your work. ”
I want to howl in protest. Not together? Fuck that. This woman has slept in my bed every night for the past two weeks, and the majority of the nights before that. It’s been weeks since I fucked her at the tattoo shop, and we’ve basically been inseparable ever since then.
It’s not just sex, either. We share meals.
Sleep together. I hang around her work and tease her in between customers, ignoring the warning glares from her boss—who clearly does not like me.
She started teaching me how to draw, making little doodle tutorials for me to practice while she’s inking real art into people’s skin.
We even talk on the fucking phone when we’re not together. Me, the guy who barely says two words to anyone, chatting like a damn teenager on the phone with my girl.
But it’s temporary, I remind myself, even as the words burn my brain like battery acid. She’s leaving. And you don’t want anything serious anyhow.
I have to bite back a bitter laugh. I can keep telling myself that’s all I want, but deep down I know the truth. Nothing about me and Nova feels casual.
So why the hell didn’t I just ask her to come with me tonight?
“Nova—”
“Seriously, it’s fine,” she says, but she’s wiggling out of my arms and putting space between us. “You should get going though, yeah? They’re going to be annoyed you’re late.”
“I don’t want to leave,” I grunt out, grabbing her so she can’t escape the couch. I press a kiss to her lips, which she barely returns. I growl against her mouth, my tongue demanding entrance. She finally lets me in, her body going soft in my arms, and I hum in triumph.
Of course my fucking phone has to buzz at that moment. She breaks the kiss, breathless, and grabs the damn thing off the coffee table to hand to me.
Nick: Your ass better be here in five minutes.
It buzzes again.
Nick: You’re not missing poker night, asshole. Get over here.
Nick: I swear I’ll tell you about the blow job I got from Jules this morning.
I groan loudly and show Nova the screen. She cackles. “Better get moving, huh?”
“I guess so.”
I get to my feet and pull her up with me. “Can I call you when I’m done?”
Her eyes are sparkling, all traces of the hurt I thought I saw—thought I caused—earlier gone. “Are you asking if I’ll be available for a booty call?”
I grin. “I mean, I am very fond of your booty.”
She laughs, pushing my chest. “Get out of here before your sister’s fiancé tells you something that requires a lobotomy.”
I groan and grab my phone and wallet. “Fucking Nick,” I grumble.
She follows me to the door, which is good, since I definitely need another kiss before I go.
“I’ll call you,” I promise when I finally walk through her front door.
“I might just pick up,” she calls after me.
I grin all the way to my car.
There’s nothing like the Low Bar on a Friday night.
I love everything about this place—the crowds, the smell of beer and bar food, the music, people talking and laughing, relieved to be done with the work week, the sounds of the pool table in the back.
I feel more at home here than I have anywhere else I’ve ever lived.
Our parents’ place was never home, that’s for damn sure.
The house we used to rent came closer, with most of my brothers and Jules there, but we knew that place was temporary.
The bar though? This place is it for us.
As long as there’s a Barlowe brother living in this town, I know the Low Bar will be around.
My brothers and I put our blood, sweat and tears into this place.
We sacrificed and we hustled so that we would have a place to call our own.
A place that could provide for not only us, but Jules too.
Now that’s she’s with Nick, I don’t worry so much about providing for her. As pissed as I was when I found out they were dating, I can’t deny that man would give her anything she could ever possibly desire.
Even so, the bar will be here for Jules if she ever needs it, just like it’s here for her brothers.
That’s the promise that we made to each other. The reason why it was all worth it—even the dangerous shit we never talk about. Like the not so legal history of this place’s beginnings.
The history that has Victor King’s name all over it.
Before I can sink into the guilt that name inspires, Jonah shouts at me from behind the bar. “Holy shit! Is that actually Lawson Barlowe?”
A cheer goes up from some of our regulars and I flip my brother off as I make my way to the bar.
“I don’t know man,” Sawyer says thoughtfully. “I thought Lawson was taller than that.”
“Nah,” his twin brother says. “Lawson is definitely a little shrimp.”
Sawyer nods. “Guess I just forgot how short he is. Seeing as how I haven’t seen him in weeks,”
I reach the bar and smack the back of Sawyer’s head. “I worked a double with you two days ago, asshole.”
“Was that you?”
I roll my eyes. “You guys are hilarious.” I look around. “Where’s Mac and Nick?”
“Upstairs already.” Jonah starts pulling beer bottles out from under the counter. “I’m just grabbing our drinks. Sawyer is gonna stick down here until Cam gets back from his break.”
I nod, guilt threatening again. Cam is our best bartender, been with us since almost the beginning. I’ve been offering him a shit ton of my shifts lately, which he happily takes—his wife is pregnant with their second kid and he rarely turns down hours.
It’s one more reminder that I haven’t been here as much as I should have been lately.
Jonah pushes some of the bottles toward me. “We stealing from our own stock now?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “I put a note in the till, dumbass. We’ll split the cost evenly.”
“So long as you don’t give me any of that swill that Sawyer makes,” I say in a loud stage whisper.
“Hey!” My brother protests and Jonah and I laugh as we head to the back hallway. “How’s Ellie?” I ask Jonah as we take the stairs up to Mac’s.
“Amazing.” He has the kind of grin on his face that tells me he’s thinking about his wife naked, so I don’t ask follow-up questions.
We find the door open at the top of the steps and enter Mac’s place.
His apartment is loft style, all one open space with exposed brick walls and duct work on the ceiling.
From the door we have a direct view to Mac and Nick at the kitchen table.
“Holy shit, is that Lawson?” Mac calls.