Chapter 13
The bar is a total dive—sticky floors, chipped tables, and a karaoke machine that’s seen better days, and yet, it’s perfect.
The guy butchering a George Strait song is loud enough to drown out my heavy thoughts, and the locals are friendly in a way that reminds me of home.
Linc and I are tucked into a booth in the far corner, our rain-soaked hair now only damp, cheeks flushed from the open bottle of whiskey sweating between us.
We’re deep into a game of truth-or-shot, my stomach aching from laughing so hard, the kind of laughter that eases the hurt I always pretend isn’t there.
“I knew it.” Linc chuckles, shaking his head. “I fucking knew you were the one who sabotaged my science project in fifth grade.”
He’s leaned back in the booth, one arm draped along the seat, looking relaxed, confident, and entirely too distracting.
“Sabotaged is such a strong word,” I say, feigning innocence. “Don’t you think?”
His jaw drops, expression outraged. “You poured rainbow glitter into my volcano and almost blew up the entire fucking school. What would you call it?”
My eyes roll at his dramatics. “It wasn’t glitter. It was stardust.”
He grunts like that makes no difference.
“Besides, how was I supposed to know it would cause such a bad reaction? I was just trying to enhance it.”
It’s a total lie. I fully intended to wreck it. I just didn’t intend to wreck the entire classroom in the process.
“Oh, you enhanced it, all right,” he shoots back. “By making it shit out rainbow lava all over the fucking place.”
A laugh tumbles out before I can stop it, the sound warming my chest right along with the whiskey.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” he mutters, but the twitch of his lips gives him away. “I lost first place because of that stunt.”
I lift a shoulder. “Served you right for pelting me with slime balls.”
His eyes flash with quiet amusement. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope,” I answer, popping the p. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to collect all those dandelions?”
He arches a brow, smugness written all over it. “I replaced them, didn’t I?”
My pulse jumps, heart dancing at the memory of all those dandelions scattered across my doorstep.
“So, that was you…”
I’d suspected as much after seeing him loitering outside that day, but I hadn’t been completely sure.
He nods.
“Why?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“Because it wasn’t supposed to get out of hand like it did. It was just a little payback for my bike. But when you got hurt…” He shakes his head, jaw clenching. “I didn’t like it. Even if it was an accident, I still kicked my brother’s ass.”
Something shifts inside me, the sharp edge of that old wound softening at the sincerity in his voice.
When I think back to it, all the ambushes and pranks were usually softened in some way by him. Something I never really thought about until now.
“What was your deal with those dandelions, anyway?” he asks, slipping back into that familiar ease.
My head tilts at the question. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs but he goes on to explain. “All summer long, that fluffy white shit would float into our yard, and every time I looked up, there you were, plucking them from the ground for your pretend weddings. You could’ve picked any wildflower, but you went with weeds.
” His words drift into a chuckle, as if the memory still humors him.
I try to return his smile, but it’s weak. “To you they were weeds, to me they were every wish my heart ever whispered.” The confession slips free, soft, and unguarded. “They gave me hope when so many things felt hopeless.”
That amusement slowly fades from his face. “Is that how you felt back then? Hopeless?”
There’s no judgment in his tone, only curiosity.
Maybe it’s the whiskey, or maybe it’s because he’s the only one who’s ever cared enough to ask, but I find myself answering with the truth. “Sometimes…yeah.”
I shrug like it’s no big deal, when really, it was everything. At least back then.
“Did any of them come true?” he asks after a moment.
The irony of that question is almost amusing. “Considering I’m sitting here with you instead of my sister’s wedding—where she’s marrying my ex, who also happens to be cheating on her—what do you think?”
He cracks a grin, tipping his glass in mock salute. “Touché.”
We share a small laugh, despite there being nothing funny about it, the moment fading just as a middle-aged woman steps up to the mic. Her voice is surprisingly strong as she sings Gabby Barrett’s “He’s One of the Good Ones.”
Couples drift onto the dance floor, drawn in by the song. Old loves and new sway in time to the music, as if it were written for them alone. I catch myself moving too, rocking gently in my seat, carried by the melody.
Next thing I know, Linc is out of the booth, wearing that sexy grin, his hand extended in offering. “I’m not the last man on earth, but I did knock out Finchy boy. That’s gotta be worth at least one dance, right?”
Warmth blooms in my chest, my mouth curving at the memory of the jab I threw at him weeks ago.
“Yeah, Masters.” The words come soft as I slide my hand into his. “That earns you at least one dance.”
He guides me onto the floor, pulling me in close, as if he’s done it hundred times before. Every solid line of him presses against me as we fall into an easy rhythm. He moves with such effortless confidence I can’t help but be impressed.
“Gotta admit, Slimer, you’re good on your feet.”
Playful arrogance sharpens his features. “If you think this is good, you should see what I can do when you’re on your back.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks before I hide it with an eye roll. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
He grins, having no shame. “It was the perfect opportunity. Couldn’t let it go to waste.”
Of course not.
I shake my head, biting back a smile, but I’m not fooling either of us, least of all him. He’s the only person who can make me smile and want to hit him at the same time, I swear.
“Imagine if our friends walked in to see this right now,” he adds, voice low and amused. “You. Me. Laughing and dancing.”
Their reaction would be pure comedy.
“They’d never believe it,” I agree. “Just this morning Ellie texted to make sure you were still alive.”
A husky laugh escapes him, the sound so rich it spills over the twang of karaoke. “Come on, it’s not always so hostile between us. We’ve had our moments.”
My brow arches. “Define these ‘moments.’”
His expression shifts now, cocky as ever. “There was that time you kissed me on Heart Mountain.”
I gasp, disbelief nearly choking me. “I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me.”
“Don’t think so, Goldilocks. That was all you. You had zero self-control that night.”
My eyes narrow, blood rising to a dangerous temperature, and for a split second, I genuinely consider inflicting bodily harm. Then his mouth curves into that maddening smirk, and I realize he’s screwing with me.
“I swear you have a death wish, Masters,” I mutter.
His chuckle grates like sandpaper but tapers off with his next words. “You ever think about that night?” he asks, his voice quiet and thoughtful now. “About what might’ve happened between us if you hadn’t left?”
The memory of that night flashes through me, piercing my soul before I bury it again.
“Never,” I lie, the one word flowing smoothly past my lips. “You?”
A solid moment passes before he answers.
“Not for a second.”
We smile then, slow and a little sad, because we both know better.
I wish it weren’t a lie. I wish that kiss didn’t still haunt me, but it does. And by the way he’s looking at me, I’m pretty sure it haunts him too.
At some point we stopped dancing, lost in each other and the moment. Our breaths turn shallow, hearts racing, eyes locked as if neither of us remembers how to let go. It consumes us, like we’re the only two people here…until a loud pop cracks through the air, plunging the bar into darkness.
I stiffen, immediately clutching Linc’s shirt.
“Easy…” he murmurs, his tone cutting through the startled voices as he keeps me anchored against him.
Several seconds pass before someone calls from behind the bar, "That’s a wrap, folks. Power’s out!"
Groans sweep through the room as couples reluctantly peel away from the dance floor, using the light of their cell phones to guide them.
Linc settles our tab, tossing a wad of cash on the counter, then takes my hand, leading me toward the door.
Even in the dark, he feels unshakable.
We step out into the night, the rain still coming down in buckets.
Our eyes meet under the overhang, an unspoken agreement passing between us…we’ll have to make a run for it.
Without thinking, we sprint through the storm, laughing as we race for cover. It doesn’t feel like an inconvenience this time—it feels wild, reckless, and strangely freeing. Like we’re kids again, daring the world to try and catch us.
Whiskey thrums in my veins, leaving me unsteady, but Linc is always there, keeping me grounded.
We tumble into the room in a breathless rush, the click of the door silencing our laughter and casting us back into darkness. The only sounds left are the steady patter of rain and the ragged pull of our breaths.
Through the shadows, I can just make out the hard lines of his body through his wet T-shirt, the rise and fall of his chest syncing with my own.
Silence stretches, heavy and charged, before he finally breaks it.
“I lied,” he rasps, voice almost damaged. “I’ve thought about that kiss every fucking day since it happened. Dreamed about it. Ached for it. And I still do, every damn time I see you.”
The confession tears through me, shattering the last of my defenses.
I don’t think—I just move, throwing myself into his arms.
It’s a surrender that’s been years in the making, like leaping into a fire we’ve spent half our lives outrunning. All I can do now is hope we don’t turn to ash.