Chapter Seven
Britta
Walking into The Badger’s Den felt like stepping into a memory that didn’t quite belong to me anymore.
The door creaked open the same way it always had. The bell above it still gave that half-hearted jingle.
But everything else? Everything else was wrong. The smell hit first.
Not beer. Not fryer grease. Not that familiar mix of cheap liquor and bad decisions.
Smoke.
Burnt wood.
Charred plastic. That lingering, ugly scent that clung to the walls even after the flames were gone.
I stopped just inside the doorway, and my stomach twisted.
The last time I’d been here… I swallowed hard.
My blood was on this floor.
Hands pressed against my shoulder, and people were yelling. The world tilted sideways while I tried to stay conscious long enough not to die on sticky bar flooring.
And now?
Now the place was… halfway between destroyed and rebuilt.
Parts of the walls were still blackened, the paint bubbled and cracked from heat.
Sections of drywall had been torn out completely, exposing beams and wiring like the building had been peeled open.
The bar top had scorch marks along one end, but someone—Tempi, obviously—had scrubbed the hell out of it.
The floor…
The floor was clean.
Shining.
Like nothing had ever happened there. Like I hadn’t been bleeding out right where I stood.
“Oh shit,” I breathed. It came out under my breath, but not quiet enough.
“Yeah,” Swift said low beside me.
I hadn’t even noticed how close he’d stayed. Not crowding or hovering.
Just… there.
Solid.
Tempi popped up from behind the bar like she’d been waiting for us. “Britta!”
She didn’t even pretend to play it cool. She rushed around the end of the bar, practically sprinting across the room and throwing her arms around me before I could brace for it.
I let out a soft oof. “Easy,” I laughed, careful of my shoulder. “You just saw me yesterday.”
“I don’t care,” she shot back, squeezing me anyway. “You’re here.” She pulled back just enough to look at me, her hands still gripping my arms like she was making sure I was actually standing in front of her. “In my bar.”
I smiled. “In your bar.”
She shook her head, eyes a little glassy for half a second before she blinked it away. “Okay, nope,” she said quickly. “We’re not doing emotional. I’ve got enough of that crap going on.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Twister leaned against the jukebox, arms crossed, watching everything like he always did—quiet, calculating, and taking it all in.
Nugget, Method, and Wheels were scattered around the place, hauling out debris, stacking boxes, wiping down surfaces like they were trying to scrub the memory of what happened right out of the building.
“Look who decided to show up,” Nugget called, grinning.
“Thought you were going to milk that whole getting-shot thing for at least another week,” Method added.
I snorted.
“Trust me, it’s best for all of us that I am not trapped in my apartment anymore.”
Wheels gave me a nod. “Good to see you upright.”
“Good to be upright,” I shot back. But even as I joked, my eyes drifted back to the floor.
That spot.
Right here, and now it was spotless.
Clean. Like nothing had happened.
Like life just… kept going.
It hit me in a weird way.
Not sad exactly. Just… surreal.
Like the world didn’t pause just because something bad happened. It just moved on and expected you to catch up.
Swift shifted beside me, just enough that his arm brushed mine for a second.
A reminder that he was here.
I let out a slow breath. “Looks like you guys have been busy,” I said, dragging my attention away from the floor.
Tempi huffed. “You have no idea. Insurance is a nightmare, contractors are worse, and apparently everyone suddenly has an opinion about how I should rebuild my own damn bar.”
“That tracks,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “But we’re getting there.” She glanced around like she was seeing it for the first time too. “It’ll be back.”
“It already is,” I said.
She smiled at that.
We moved deeper into the bar, and I found myself naturally drifting closer to Swift. Not because I needed to but because I wanted to.
Which was… new.
Tempi was my person and had been for years. She was loud and chaotic and loyal to a fault.
But Swift?
Swift was something different.
Quieter. Steadier.
The kind of presence that didn’t demand attention but made everything feel… safer and easier.
Like the world couldn’t get to me as long as he was within arm’s reach.
And that thought? That was dangerous. Because this wasn’t supposed to be anything more than him watching over me.
Temporary.
Except it didn’t feel temporary.
It felt like something that was settling in, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that yet.
“So,” Tempi said, clapping her hands once. “You gonna just stand there looking pretty, or are you gonna help?”
I snorted. “I can help.”
Swift’s head turned toward me immediately. “You sure about that?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I am sure about that.”
He didn’t look convinced.
I made my way behind the bar, grabbing a crate of bottles with my good arm and carefully shifting them into place on one of the shelves Tempi had cleared.
It felt good.
Normal. Like I was getting a piece of my life back.
That only lasted for about thirty minutes, and then my arm started to ache. My shoulder throbbed, and my energy tank dropped faster than I wanted it to.
I tried to ignore it, but Swift noticed.
Of course he did.
“You’re slowing down,” he said quietly, stepping up beside me.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
I sighed. “I’m fine.”
He just looked at me. Didn’t argue or push.
Just… waited.
Damn him.
I set the last bottle down and leaned back against the bar, blowing out a breath.
“Okay,” I admitted. “Maybe I’m a little tired.”
“A little,” he echoed dryly.
Tempi looked between us. “You guys heading out?”
I made a face. “I don’t want to.”
“I know,” she said gently. “But you’re not back to one hundred percent yet.”
I hated how reasonable everyone was being. It was really ruining my mood. “Fine,” I muttered.
Swift’s hand brushed lightly against my lower back. “Come on, sugar.”
I shot Tempi one last look. “I’ll be back.”
“You better be,” she said. “I’m not dealing with these idiots alone.”
Nugget gave her a thumbs-up. “We’re delightful.”
“Debatable,” she shot back.
Swift and I headed out the door and back onto State Street.
Gone were the drunk college kids.
Now it was joggers, students with backpacks, people heading to lunch before going back to work.
More movement.
More noise.
More eyes.
I could feel Swift beside me. His head turned constantly, scanning, watching, and cataloging.
It didn’t make me nervous, though. It made me aware. I just… didn’t have the energy to match it.
I was tired.
We moved through the crowd, weaving between people.
Then, a guy bumped into us. Hard enough that I rocked back a step.
Swift reacted instantly. “Watch where you’re going,” he snapped.
The guy blinked, startled. “Sorry, man—”
Swift didn’t move or soften. Just stared him down long enough to make the guy uncomfortable.
I touched Swift’s arm. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t look away right away. Then finally, he exhaled and stepped back.
The guy hurried off like he’d just avoided getting his ass kicked.
I glanced up at Swift.
“You’re going to scare people.”
“Good,” he said.
I shook my head, but I didn’t argue.
We finished the walk back to my building in silence, the energy between us a little tighter than before.
We got on the elevator, rode it up, and the doors opened to Tyson standing in the hallway right outside my apartment.
Swift went rigid beside me. “What are you doing here?” he asked immediately.
Tyson turned. “I was checking on her,” he said. He jerked his chin toward me. “You didn’t answer.”
I stepped forward. “I was at the bar.”
Tyson’s gaze flicked to me, then back to Swift.
He wasn’t buying something.
I could tell.
“I was worried,” he said. Tyson was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Promise.”
He looked me over like he was verifying that. Then nodded once. “What were you doing out?”
“Went to The Badger Den,” I said.
His jaw tightened slightly, but I ignored it.
“I’d tell you to come in,” I added, already moving toward my door, “but I just want to take a little nappy nap.”
Tyson snorted. “That sounds about right.”
“Come over tomorrow before work,” I said. “I’ll be awake longer than five minutes.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”
His eyes slid to Swift. And there it was again, that tension.
That silent I don’t trust you conversation happening without words.
Swift didn’t back down and didn’t look away. He just met it head-on.
Tyson finally broke first, turning and heading down the hall toward his apartment.
I unlocked my door and pushed it open. “Seriously,” I said over my shoulder as we stepped inside, “you two need to figure out whatever beef you have going on because it is exhausting for me.”
Swift grunted.
Which was apparently his version of noted.
I kicked off my shoes and made a beeline for my bedroom without even looking back.
I hit the bed and collapsed onto it, careful of my shoulder out of habit more than anything else.
And before I could even think about anything else, I was out.