Chapter 3
Micah
Pushing through the front doors of The Pact Bar and Grill feels like coming home.
My parents opened the place right before I was born, and I basically grew up here.
They got some flak from people who said a bar was a shit place for a kid like me, claiming the reason I spent my childhood on the verge of serious trouble was the negative influences here.
Those people had their heads so far up their own asses they had to bend over to see straight.
Not only did I learn the right way to treat a woman by watching my parents live, love, and work together, but I learned a lot about the human condition by watching the patrons of The Pact.
Turns out, despite our differences, we’re all pretty much the same.
We want to have fun with good friends, and make enough money to eat, sleep, and keep a roof over our heads.
Besides, everyone knows we can thank my dad for my personality, not The Pact Bar and Grill.
I am, according to family legend, a carbon copy of Eli Hutton. Except I’ve never had a job as a stripper—something he definitely did. Though, to be fair, he never got in trouble for ‘suggestive dancing on the playground’—something I definitely did.
The familiar energy of the bar puts some much-needed pep in my step as the hubbub of people having fun washes over me.
This will be good for me.
The music coming from the old jukebox in the corner.
The laughter coming from the crowd.
And some riveting conversation with the people who love me most.
Just the prescription to get me back into my groove, which I’ve been out of since my run-in with Ivy.
Seriously, what did I ever do to her to deserve such a cold shoulder?
She’s the one who ghosted me. We’d been working so hard to stay together, despite the distance, and she sends me two texts, out of the blue…
I’m so unhappy.
This isn’t working.
And then nothing else. I texted. I called. I obsessed. She was just gone, and it killed me.
Fuck.
That was probably right around the time she met her little girl’s dad.
Her parents never thought I was good enough for her and she swore they were idiots who couldn’t see me for who I really am. Maybe that was just something she said to make me feel better…
Either way, I believed her, and I’ve loved her ever since.
I rake a hand through my hair because enough! I’ve spent too many hours and too much energy on Ivy Cole.
My cousin, Angela, catches my attention, waving vigorously from a table near the back of the bar.
Our cousin, Nathan, sits across from Angela’s husband, Garrett, the three of them in deep conversation.
They look like mob bosses, or CEOs negotiating billion dollar deals with their expensive clothes, arms folded on the table, heads close, voices low as I approach.
It’s always a little weird, sitting with these rich assholes when I’m just a blue-collar guy. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, given my family. And I am. For the most part.
“Look at this somber fucking atmosphere. Guess the party arrived just in time.” I puff my chest and take a seat while Angela punches me in the arm.
“Nate’s got more drama with you know who,” she whispers.
“I don’t know who,” I whisper back, “and shame on you for assuming I would.”
“Yes, you do know who.” Angela leans even closer, widening her eyes like I’m the fool in this conversation. She should know by now that I’ve turned fucking with her into an Olympic sport.
“Blossom,” she hisses. “The super yucky girlfriend he’s always having drama with, so I just assumed you’d be able to connect those dots on your own since you…”
I lose the battle with my laughter, and she sits back, frowning.
“I know who you’re talking about, Angel.”
She slaps my arm. “Why do you always have to mess with me like that? Not cool, Mi. Not cool.”
“I don’t know. For me, the cool part was watching you think I’m an idiot only to realize you underestimated me once again.
It’s one of my favorite things.” I pause as a waiter arrives to take our order, then turn my attention to Nathan.
“I hate to hear there are still problems between you and Blossom, Nator Tot.”
Problems that should have been ironed out long ago because that woman is a massive pain in the ass.
“I’m sorry.” Garrett grins like he’s been handed another million dollars. “Did you call him Nator Tot?”
“You bet your sweet ass I did. And he loves it.” I jerk a thumb at Nathan’s scowling face. “Just look at him.”
My cousin rubs his hands together then shoots me the bird. “It’s an old nickname everyone but this asshole has let me shake,” he says to Garrett. “And believe me, I wish he’d let me shake it.”
“You’ll get no judgment from me.” Garrett holds up his hands. “My sister still calls me Bear. As in Gare Bear. Who calls a grown man Bear?” he grumbles, more to himself than any of us.
“Maybe she keeps it up because it’s the perfect name for a grumpy guy like you.” Angela shrugs, beaming at her husband who scowls, then kisses her forehead while our waiter arrives with our drinks.
“There’s trouble in paradise, huh? Again?” I take a long swig of beer, eyeing Nathan over the rim of my glass.
Not a day goes by that Blossom doesn’t give him hell for something decidedly not his fault.
That woman is a ballbuster and a parasite.
Sure as shit, she knows he’s got more money than God and the patience of a saint and plans to drain him of both.
I try to give everyone space to be themselves, but she needed to figure out how to be anyone else a long time ago.
“Not really trouble. No…” Nathan peers down the neck of his beer before taking a swig.
“Blossom’s feeling guilty because she doesn’t make enough money to send her girls to private school.
She keeps beating herself up over wasting their potential and I…
” He shrugs, running his hands through auburn hair.
“I do have the means to send them to private school.”
And there it is.
There it fucking is. Ball-busting parasite.
“It’s not okay for her to ask that of you.” Angela scowls, instantly defensive of our overgenerous cousin.
“That’s the thing.” Nathan sits back, hefting his beer and shaking his head. “She didn’t ask. She’s just so hyper-focused on the topic. It’s all she talks about and I’m starting to feel bad.”
Which is probably the entire reason she’s bringing it up so much, I think but don’t say.
Garrett folds his arms on the table. “You guys aren’t even living together. Isn’t it kind of a leap to start paying for her kids’ education?”
Angela pats Nathan’s hand. “It’s incredibly noble of you to want to take care of her girls, but I agree with my husband.”
“A total Nator Tot move. You’re just that kind of guy.” Even if Blossom’s girls don’t deserve it. I’ve never met more spoiled kids and growing up in a family with millionaires everywhere you look, you’d think I’d have firsthand experience.
“Speaking of kids and single moms” —Nathan risks a glance my way— “Ivy was at the foundation the other day.”
Her name is a punch to the gut, but I play it cool, just like I did when I told everyone how she acted the night of the fire.
As the lowest achieving member of a family filled with business owners, CEOs, novelists, rock stars, and philanthropists, the last thing I want is to give anyone a reason to feel sorry for me.
I’m good. No. I’m great.
I love what I do for a living. The strange hours and wide array of skills I need to excel at my job mean every day is slightly different than the last. Which keeps me interested enough to stay motivated.
Besides, it gives me purpose. Me doing my job right can be the difference between life and death for some people and I don’t take that lightly.
“Why?” I ask, cool as fucking ice. “She looking for a job?”
Nathan starts to respond, but my “Ivy thoughts” have spent too much time locked in my head. I couldn’t stop talking if I tried.
“Before she moved to Seattle,” I continue, “she wanted to be a psychologist. I have no idea how far she is on that. How many years of school does she need? How many has she had? We fell out of touch, you know? I had that breakdown right after she left, and I broke my phone. And I mean I fucking shattered the thing. My grades were shit, attitude was too, so Mom and Dad wouldn’t replace it and made me go without one until I got my head on straight, which took a while.
Then, Uncle Caleb doubled down and challenged me to go without it for another couple months.
He’s always been kind of anti-tech, you know?
Anyway, I thought it was dumb, but he didn’t think I could do it and I never back down from a challenge, even one that sucks.
So, I went without one for three months.
Remember that?” I ask Angela and Nathan.
“Oh, believe me, I remember,” Angela says, laughing lightly, while Nator Tot, shakes his head like reliving the trauma of that experience is too much for him, even all these years later.
“I went nuts, but it was good for me,” I say to Garrett.
“Even if it wasn’t so good for the rest of us.” Angela fist bumps Nathan across the table.
“No texts,” I continue, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“No social media. Just real, honest conversations with people. And when I finally got my phone back, Ivy and I never really reconnected.” And by that, I mean she never responded to the texts, phone calls, or emails I sent, trying to reconnect.
Probably because she’d met the father of her kid and didn’t have the balls to tell me.
“But I can totally see her wanting to work—”
“Micah.” Nathan puts a hand on my arm. “Breathe man. You’re rambling and that’s never a good sign.”
Garrett schools his dumbfounded face into something that doesn’t look like he thinks I’ve lost my shit. “I take it this is the high school girlfriend he never fell out of love with?” he asks his wife.
“The one who’s back with a kid and won’t talk to him,” Angela whispers in response.