33. Let’s play
CHAPTER 33
LET’S PLAY
CHARLIE
R eese discovered Rocky’s minutes after we moved here. What can I say? She’s got excellent radar for good music and cheap drinks. It’s served us well.
The story goes—at least, if you believe a word out of the man’s mouth—that the bar used to be called Rick’s, but the original owner lost a bet, and bam, Rocky’s was born. Apparently, when Rick retired, he signed the bar over to him “as was my birthright.”
Needless to say, Rocky’s tales are as long as his hair.
But the man serves a mean beer and never gave one shit when I hustled the occasional jackass for a few weeks’ rent.
In all the years I’ve been coming here, it hasn’t changed. It still smells like weed, still has the same jukebox with “old man music”—
“Hey,” I say. I will put up with a lot of things, but disrespecting Robert Plant is not one of them. “Watch your tone. These are classics.”
“I’m learning so much about you tonight,” Emma says, her smile the ultimate weapon to my state of mind.
—and it’s still run by Rocky himself. These days, he’s a lot quieter. He speaks almost exclusively in grunts, but he throws me a friendly nod and a couple of cold ones when we approach the bar.
With our beers in hand, I guide Emma to the pool table in the back. We’re not the only ones here tonight, but it’s quiet enough to make our little corner feel intimate.
I pass Emma a cue. “Do you know how to play?”
“I know enough.”
If I had to guess by the glint in her eye, that’s a lie, but I let it slide for now. I want to see her moves before I show off.
“All right,” I set up. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She breaks, and it’s not bad. It’s also not great.
“Little rusty?” I ask.
She flushes, the color deep and dark, like a secret I want to keep.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
I take a long pull of my beer and rein in the urge to push her up against the wall and have my way with her in the shadows. With nothing sunk yet, I take the easy shot, pocketing the fourteen in the top right. I follow it up with the ten. I check myself before I run a trick shot on the nine, pulling my stroke just enough that it’s not obvious I’m holding back.
“You’re good at this.” Emma hovers over the table, stalling before taking her shot. She hits the two, but it catches on the pocket and doesn’t fall.
“I’ve had a lot of practice. Reese went to vet school one block over.” I sink the nine but purposefully miss the next shot. “During those years, there wasn’t a week we weren’t here. She and Mae hooked up in that bathroom,” I say, pointing to the door with my cue. “About time too. They circled each other for a year before finally admitting they liked each other.”
Emma lines up a shot directly in front of me. The way she leans over the table pulls her trousers tight against her ass. If it’s a trap to destroy my concentration in this game, then I might as well hand her the win now.
I take a long drink to distract myself.
She then skips the cue ball off the edge like a leapfrog.
Oh, come on. It’s not possible to be accidentally this bad.
“Give it up.” I huff, stepping up beside her. “I’ve watched you destroy a decade’s worth of procedure in ten minutes. You can stop playing.”
“I am playing,” she teases, smiling around her beer.
I tear my gaze away from her lips, willing my heart not to take off at a breakneck speed. “You know what I mean.”
The laugh she lets out goes straight through me, slipping through the cracks of my beaten-up heart.
“This place feels like a time capsule. My mom would love it.” She props her cue against her hip. “Before I was born, one of her hobbies was following bands on tour.”
Ah. The walls here are plastered in band posters, not a spare inch in sight. They spill out into the hallway, the bathrooms… “As far as I can tell,” I say, “he doesn’t take the old ones down before he puts new ones up. Scrape back far enough, and you could probably find out how old Rocky is.”
“Like tree rings,” she says.
A smile splits my face as I survey the space. I like it here with its don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. It’s open late, only faintly smells of spilled beer, and right now is giving me something to do with my hands that won’t get me in trouble.
When she fumbles another easy shot, I have to call bullshit, saving the black from a premature death. One look at the mischief in her eyes tells me she knows she’s been caught. She’s beaming with joy, which, fuck, only makes me like her more.
I reset the table. “All right, enough with the games. Let’s really play. And this time I’m not gonna go easy on you.”
Emma steps in close, sultry. “Bold of you to assume you have a shot at winning.”
My heart trips over itself. She’s right. When it comes to her, I lost a long time ago.
She leans the cue against the table, rolls up the sleeves of her pale blue shirt past her elbows, loosens a button at her collar.
She’s never been sexier.
“You like it?” she asks, brow raised as she fingers the neck of her shirt. “I learned this trick from you.”
This time she breaks on the second ball, shot as sharp as she gets when she’s breaking a problem down.
Damn. This is my kind of foreplay.
“I knew you were holding back,” I say.
“If only outmaneuvering Roberts was as simple as this.”
“We’ll think of something, I promise.”
She straightens, takes a drink. I try not to stare at the long stretch of her neck but fail miserably.
“It’s so nice to talk to someone who sees how awful he is. Logan hated when I talked about the office.”
And the asshole tally goes up.
“My ex was the same,” I admit. “She always complained. Said I cared about work more than anything else.”
“That’s not true,” Emma says, brow furrowed in offense. “You work harder than almost everyone else there, but I don’t doubt for a second you’d quit if it was the right thing to do. I don’t want to make aspersions against a stranger, but this woman didn’t know you very well if she couldn’t see you put family before anything else.”
With a knot rising in my throat, I step around the table to sink the twelve and get a little room to breathe.
“Is that why you broke up?” Emma asks.
“Lucy didn’t think I was capable of loving anyone.” That single sentence sinks the mood like a slab of concrete in a swimming pool.
“What do you think?”
“I think there are much more interesting things we can talk about.”
“I disagree.” She steps back from the table, leaning the cue against her hip. “Your sister is happy that you’ve moved on.”
Getting over Lucy wasn’t easy, but I bet it’ll be a joyride compared to Emma.
I rub my jaw. “Reese seems to think I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night for the past two years.”
“It wouldn’t be a failing if you were. Breakups hurt. She’s worried about you.”
With a scoff, I chalk my cue. “I don’t know why. I’ve got everything I need, plus some shit I don’t. Heartbreak is for people who take love too seriously.”
People fall in love too easily, throwing themselves at it in blind faith, romanticizing the fall and being shocked when the landing hurts like hell.
I don’t want love to be easy. I want it hardened, fortified, absolute. What use do I have for feelings that come and go as quickly as mile markers on the highway?
“You can’t believe that,” Emma says. “Love is one of the most beautiful things we can experience. It’s more than heartbreak. The right person will make life sweeter. It takes work, but it’s all the more rewarding for the effort.”
“Speaking from experience?” I ask.
“No,” she says, ducking her head. “Hope, actually.”
I can’t fault that. I’m glad she still has hope.
I lost mine a long time ago.
“The last time I got stood up,” I admit, finishing my beer and signaling for two more, “I was sitting at the bar talking to Rocky. This older couple arrives, and they take the seats next to me. They’re laughing, talking, so Rocky asks them what they’re celebrating. You know what they said? Their divorce.”
Emma’s jaw goes slack with surprise.
I nod. Pretty sure my reaction at the time looked exactly like that. “I’ve seen newlyweds more miserable than these two. I finally asked them about it, and they said they weren’t about to throw away twenty years of friendship just because the sex was terrible. I knew then that’s what I wanted.”
“Terrible sex?” she teases.
I smile, hoping it doesn’t look as sad as it feels. “Funny, but no. What I want is a partner.”
I’ve spent my life sure of one thing: the less I have to lose, the better.
But that doesn’t mean I want it. Every day, I witness what Reese and Mae have. I envy it.
There are no half measures for me. When I make a decision, there’s no time for second guessing, and love is no different.
I don’t want to fall. I want to stand firm beside a person worth fighting for. Someone who’ll stand and fight for me.
“Now, are you going to take this shot, or do I have to take it for you?”
Those pants must be working, because Emma is kicking my ass.
“And then we took a two-hour detour so Reese could see the world’s largest rocking chair.”
“I’m jealous. The coolest thing I’ve seen is the Alps.”
“How awful,” I tease. “It was surprisingly fun. Growing up, long trips always meant starting over. I never knew if it would work out, so the drive was one long walk to the gallows. I hated passing through places like they didn’t exist. Like we didn’t exist. So I made sure we made memories on the way, even if they were ridiculous.”
“It sounds like you’re ready to make some more.”
My lungs get tight at the thought. “I’ve been telling myself the same thing for the last few years.”
“What are you waiting for?”
I shrug.
I never planned to stay forever. But somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking about moving on and fell into the cycle of “maybe next year,” growing more cynical with each corporate announcement.
“Getting hired at Helix was a big deal. I worked my ass off to prove myself, and I used what I saved to help Reese open the shelter.”
Now, eight years have gone by, and I’m not sure what the future holds.
Lips pressed together, I scan the mostly empty bar. “Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m still there.”
“For what it’s worth,” she says, taking a step closer, “I’m glad you stayed.”
A lightness I’ve never experienced blooms in my chest. “I bet you never thought you’d say that.”
She laughs. “I wanted to strangle you when Roberts announced we’d be working together.”
“There’s still time,” I say with a wink.
She rolls her eyes as predicted. “Do you ever think about doing something else? Working on cars again or maybe becoming a suit model?”
“I’m starting to think you like my wardrobe more than me.”
She tips her head back and finishes her beer. When she sets it on the table, she eyes me. “It’s fifty-fifty.”
The cold bottle in my hand does nothing to cool me down.
The truth is, I haven’t thought about it, but already, it’s tempting. I have a lot of experience starting over, but as Emma takes her next shot, I know I’m not going anywhere soon.
“By the way,” I say, “Reese and Mae loved your mom’s suggestions. Said to pass on their thanks.”
“It’s me who should be saying thank you. I haven’t seen her that excited since I got my first paycheck. I’m going to need to carry smelling salts if I ever get engaged. She’s been worried I’d never settle down.”
It takes work to swallow down the jealousy bubbling up inside me. It’s violent enough that I miss my next shot, and the ball rolls off the short rail, away from the pocket.
Jaw tense, I force out, “They’ve got to be happy about Logan, then.”
Focus fixed on the pool table, she makes a noncommittal sound. Honestly, before I met them, I expected her parents to be assholes. More money than sense types. And maybe they are. Or maybe they used to be. But I’ve also seen firsthand what bad parents look like, and no one who adores their kid the way her parents do can be all bad.
Don’t ask. It’ll only hurt. But I’m a glutton for punishment.
“Have you answered him yet?”
Why the fuck do I even want to know? For proof, I guess. Anything that will kill the hope I’ve got for a future I can’t have.
Abandoning her shot, she faces me, eyes earnest and vulnerable. “No.”
Good. I still have a shot at this.
“Hold up.” I slot in behind her, and her breath stutters. “Take your time,” I guide softly, nudging her right foot in line with the shot. “Better.”
She tilts her head just an inch my way. “I thought you wanted to win.”
Angling closer, I brush my lips against her ear. “Who says I’m not?”
Her breath leaves her in a rush, her hips pushing back into mine.
Christ.
I step back.
You’re only friends, asshole.
Emma glares at the table. She’s already circled it twice, searching for a shot and scowling adorably. It probably doesn’t help that I’ve blocked her shot.
“Want to move some of your balls out of my way?”
“Oh, sorry, am I making it too hard for you to win?”
“That yellow is taunting me.” Then she rolls the cue ball in a fantastic kick shot that sinks it. Damn, she’s good.
It’s been too long since I’ve had this much fun in a game. Reese isn’t a bad player, but she prefers to limit her competitiveness to Mario Kart .
“How’d you learn to play? Don’t tell me they taught billiards in private school.”
Emma peers up at me from where she’s leaned over the long rail, inspiring a thousand filthy thoughts. I’m ten seconds away from getting us kicked out of here.
“Oh, of course. Right after pickleball. No, Dad had a table, and I had a lot of time on my hands.”
Without taking her eyes off me, she shoots, sinking the black like a pro, winning the game.
I might be in love.
Emma asks to come back home with me, as if the answer is ever going to be no. I find her a pair of sweats and a T-shirt to change into and settle in for a movie. I’m not going to think about what this all means or how soon it’ll be over.
I get it. When it feels like everything is slipping through your fingers, you need something to hold on to.
Right now, I’m a convenient buoy in a chaotic ocean, and if she needs my help to stay afloat, I’ll be that for her.
Ten minutes in, and she’s asleep on my shoulder, soft hair falling out of place. If I could believe she’d stay here forever, I’d give her anything she asked for, including me.
Because I might not be capable of loving someone, but if I was, I’d want it to be her.