by Harloe Rae
I jerk my head in a sharp nod. That’s fitting, and all the more reason to stay on the safe side of town. No way will I risk running into that busty blonde. This afternoon, I’m only looking to enjoy a drink that I don’t have to pour myself. That whole concept of getting shitfaced with a friend circles back to me at this moment. I could definitely see that happening at Howlers.
Am I craving some sort of camaraderie on top of everything else racing through my brain? Maybe. Being a loner is a box I folded myself into. I can blame my father or Grant or any number of people who played a role, but the choice has always been mine. Alone. Much like this sudden shift in my demeanor. Apparently, all I had been missing was the perfect motivational cocktail to kick my ass into public. Fingers fucking crossed this outing doesn’t fail as epically as the last one.
Without further delay, I wrench open the heavy wooden door. The aroma of stale beer and burned pizza welcomes me as I cross over the threshold. There are only a few people littered around the dimly lit space. A lungful of hot air I didn’t realize was trapped rushes out of me. Erik Rhodes waves at me from behind the bar. I haven’t seen him since spring, but that’s because he hasn’t been by my shop. His bike requires little maintenance, and there’s no other reason for him to visit Iron Throttle.
“Well, well, well. Crawford fucking Doxe. I’d be likely to believe this is a hallucination if I wasn’t stone-cold sober.”
“You fantasize about me often, Rhodes? Maybe I was wrong about this place.”
He rubs his nose with a middle finger. “Fuck you for calling me out. Take a load off and let me add to my spank bank.”
An empty stool near the wall is calling my name. Everyone else seems to be congregating on the other end. Perfect. I settle onto the ripped leather cushion and the seat groans under my weight. “Thanks for the five-star greeting.”
He pastes on a fake-ass grin that I’m sure grants him extra tips. “We aim to impress around here. I’m sure you’ve heard.”
I take a glance at the array of outdated decor, peeling paint, and stained tile. A renovation is decades overdue, but probably won’t happen for another ten years. “Why do you think I chose Howlers above all else?”
“Because the options are slim. Doesn’t hurt that this place is a dive and no one will bother you.”
I point at him. “Exactly.”
“It’s my loyal bartender duty to know these things. Speaking of, pick your poison.” Erik gestures to the rows of liquor behind him.
“Whiskey. Make it a double.”
He grabs a bottle of Windsor and fills a short tumbler to the rim. “Ice?”
I wave him off. “Nah, this is great.”
Erik leans against the counter while I take a hearty gulp. “You look like shit, bro.”
Smoky heat flares along my tongue. The booze burns a trail of fire down my throat. “Fuck you very much.”
He strokes his chin. “Lady trouble?”
“Why does everyone keep assuming that?” I swallow another mouthful of whiskey. A telltale blaze is already coating my stomach.
“Because it’s fairly obvious.” He motions to my face.
I swirl the remaining liquor in my glass, using the waves to change directions. “Decker and Delaney stopped by a few weeks ago. They gave me some shit to think about.”
Erik snorts. “Yeah, they’re good at that. I hear them waxing poetic to customers at every turn. Not to mention inducing nausea with their sickly-sweet performances.”
“Something like that.”
He shrugs. “They mean well, at least. Whether or not those efforts make others puke is another story.”
“Love, right?”
“Apparently,” he drawls.
“Good for them.” I blink the spots of green from my vision.
A smirk curls his lips. “Jealous?”
An image of Keegan materializes in the forefront of my fogging thoughts. Go fucking figure. The picture of emerald depths and golden curls twists my gut into an unrecognizable mass of knots. I glance down, focusing on a large gouge in the wood. “Nope. That’s not for me.”
His snort screams of bullshit. “Ah, that’s what they all say.”
“But I mean it.” Why does my voice sound scratchy?
“For now,” he retorts.
“I’m beginning to remember why this isn’t my scene,” I mutter.
Erik chuckles. “Don’t be so sensitive. We grew up together. That means I get to give you shit.”
“Wasn’t aware that’s part of your job description.”
“Show up more often and you’ll get used to it.”
Those words prod at me, a tingle spreading through my limbs. I narrow my eyes at him. “Why didn’t we ever become friends?”
“Damn, dude.” He scrubs the back of his neck. “Is that a serious question?”
“I wouldn’t bother asking if it wasn’t.”
Erik averts his eyes. “Well, you’re not the easiest guy to get along with. I know shit really went south when your parents split and Grant left. You also never seemed interested in hanging out.”
I drain the rest of my drink. “I’m an insufferable asshole. You can tell me the truth.”
His laugh is a sharp bark. “I wouldn’t go to that extreme, but you definitely stick to yourself. What’s up with putting me on the spot?”
“Just curious. I’ve had an epiphany of sorts.” Heat spreads through my veins, a kiss from the inebriating liquid.
He spins his finger in a circle. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Are you getting hitched? Did you knock someone up? Do you need bail money?”
“Fuck all of that. I’ve just been thinking about the future. Contemplating my goals. Being insightful and shit. The whiskey is helping.”
“Shit, that’s deep. Didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”
“Because I’m not, or didn’t used to be.” I tap the bar next to my empty glass. “Another.”
“Think this occasion calls for the bottle.”
“You’ll never hear me disagree.”
He grabs the Windsor and gets pouring. “You should talk to Grady.” Erik nods toward a table in the front corner. “He went through some mind-melting shit when Sutton came home from college. That’s your best bet.”
Grady Bowen is sitting with his wife, only inches separating them. She’s preparing to straddle him and he thrusts at the air with a laugh. They’re wearing matching smiles, the kind screaming of secrets and dirty promises. Erik is right. That’s not the guy I grew up with. But I already knew that. “He looks plenty happy.”
“With her, yeah. That’s what I mean. Think back to high school. I’m surprised you two didn’t have a club or some shit.”
The whiskey is doing its job, loosening my tongue and opening the doors to the usually hidden alcoves inside of me. “Nah, he’s always been better with people than me.”
“Not necessarily. If he is, it’s because of that girl sitting on his lap. You choose to shut others out.”
He’s not wrong. I’m an antisocial mess mixed with bitterness. That fact is becoming more fuzzy the longer I sit on this stool. “I’m not really sure when that started. Being around people has never been my favorite. Biker rallies were one thing, but social situations in general make me itchy. My asshole of a father certainly doesn’t help. Why do you think I’m such a loner, Rhodes?”
“Great question, but you’re asking the wrong guy.”
I spread my arms out. My limbs feel heavier than normal. “I don’t see a better one.”
“Only because you’re not bothering to look.”
“This”—I motion between us—“isn’t really my thing. I don’t handle idle chit-chat well.”
“You don’t say?” He chuckles. “Just trying to point you in a more useful direction. If it’s dick jokes and crude stories you’re after, I’m your man.”
I return my gaze to Grady. If possible, his grin has stretched wider as he gropes Sutton and whispers in her ear. What would I say to h
im? I usually have nothing to say to him beyond talk at the shop. In reality, we’re all relative strangers. “He doesn’t serve booze.”
Erik shakes his head. “No, but he can build you a house.”
“Already got one of those.”
“What the fuck do you need advice for? Sounds like you’re all set.”
I swipe a hand over my mouth. “You got a girl?”
“Yeah, sure. Don’t we all?”
“A serious one, I mean.”
He gets a suspicious gleam in his eyes. “Seems that way. How about you?”
I let the barest hint of a grin touch my mouth. “You didn’t hear?”
“Rumors are shit.”
“That’s the truth.” I grunt and motion for more whiskey.
“If you’ve got something to tell me, I’m all ears.”
I have no doubt that Erik has met Keegan. He’s always been the one to have a triple scoop of info on everyone’s business. Like one of those old ladies swarming the market, but younger and with a shitload of tattoos. I’m sure word has spread about my possessive display with Keegan in and outside of Bronco. What else can I confess? Nothing good. “It was a wild night.”
His brows bounce. “I can only imagine. That happens quite often around these parts. Might as well cause a bit of trouble. Nothing else to do, right?”
“Damn small towns,” I grumble. That’s one reason why keeping to myself has always been appealing. Lonely at times, but safe in a fortress of my own making.
He crosses his inked arms. “As if you’d live anywhere else.”
“I’ll drink to that.” And I do.
“What’s next?” He knocks on the bar.
“Turning over a new leaf, or whatever the fuck this is.”
“For a woman?”
Lush curves and cutting remarks try to break through the blockage of alcohol. “Maybe she started it, but this is for me.”
“As it should be.”
“I’m learning that,” I mutter.
Erik juts his chin at me. “You got anywhere else to be?”
I let another grunt loose. “You’re looking at it.”
“Well, this calls for a toast.” He pours himself a drink.
“What are we celebrating?”
He hikes up his brow. “You.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s another new one.”
“Get used to it, yeah? A fresh awareness goes a long way.” Erik lifts his glass.
Eh, why the hell not? I raise mine with a salute, clinking against his. “Here, here.”
He slaps his hands together. “With that settled, tell me all about Keegan Daniels.”
Healing Hug #15: For long-awaited wishes being granted.
“Where are we going, Mama?”
Over the span of thirty minutes, I’ve lost track of how often that question has popped out of Millie’s mouth. A giggle trickles off my lips while I try to count, fruitless as it might be. My daughter is nothing if not persistent, especially when it comes to surprises. I wonder where she gets it. A thrill skates down my arms at what we have waiting for us in a few short miles. I grip the steering wheel tighter in an attempt to focus my tension elsewhere. Just a bit longer and the news can fly free.
“Please tell me.” Millie’s pout becomes more pronounced with each second I delay.
I shake my head, blonde hair fanning out against the seat. “It’s a secret, sweetie.”
“But we’ve been driving forever.” Her last word ends on a whine and I stifle another giggle. The young mind warps distance in such a dramatic way.
“We’ll be there soon, baby girl.” I change the radio to a station she likes, but the commercial that’s playing isn’t helpful to my cause.
Millie kicks her legs against the floor. “Mama, I have to pee.”
I quirk a brow at the rearview mirror. “Do you really?”
She huffs. “Yes.”
“How bad?”
An exaggerated potty dance begins. Her movements are limited by the padded booster straps, but she’s getting the point across. “Really bad. My bladder is full.”
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “Can you hold it for five more minutes?”
Millie’s ploy of sneaky intentions reveals itself with a satisfactory grin. “Uh-huh. That’s not very long.”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Little turkey.”
“You got played, Mama.” She dusts her small hands off.
I laugh at her antics. “Did Josey teach you to be sneaky?”
“Maybe.” Her smile gets bigger. “I mostly learned from you.”
“No way,” I sputter. “I’m always telling you to behave like a lady.”
Millie crosses her skinny arms. “Because I act out so often in front of others.”
My little diva princess is making another appearance. But she’s right. I never have anything to worry about when it comes to her behavior. “Okay, fine. You bottle up all that sass for me.”
“And spilling secrets,” she adds.
I scrunch my forehead, unsure where she’s going with this. “We don’t spread people’s private stuff, Mills.”
“Mama, you’re the worst at that. You also don’t like it when others won’t share something with you. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me where we’re going by now.”
A sigh deflates my stiff posture. It’s always fun having my daughter call me out. To be fair, I spent a large portion of my life without anyone to trust. Once I paired up with Josey again, all of the delicious gossip poured out of me. Not in front of Millie, of course. She’s just all too aware that I enjoy social hours. There are far worse traits.
I cluck my tongue at her. “This will be more fun as a surprise, baby girl. I promise.”
“You already said that.” Her gaze drifts out the window just in time to see the first fringes of Gulligan Haven. The bold welcome sign can’t be missed, a glorious sight for the most impatient set of eyes. Millie reads the name aloud, her gasp vibrating the steel and glass encasing us.
“Mama! Does this mean what I think?”
“Maybe…” I let the implication hang as we drive across the center drag of town.
“Are we finally getting a dog?” She’s not taking any chances, apparently.
“If we find one that wants to come home with us.”
Millie squeals and doubles her efforts with rattling the car. “This is the best day ever!”
Her excitement is infectious, and my belly swoops with every giddy sound. I turn into the shelter’s parking lot, my foot pressing a little harder on the accelerator. Millie is bouncing in place as I find a spot near the entrance.
A tainted memory tries to worm into this moment. When I was only a bit older than Millie, my parents brought me to the pound to pick out a dog. What began as a highly anticipated occasion of my childhood quickly crashed into smithereens. We left with an empty kennel and heavy spirits. I cried the entire ride home and refused to entertain the idea of another try. “Don’t get too attached to this idea yet, okay? They might not have the perfect fit for us.”
She’s already shaking her head before I finish my speech. “Our perfect pet is here. I can feel it.” Millie presses a little palm to her chest.
My heart threatens to burst from the sight. I cross one finger over another and send up a silent prayer that this pans out. Stealing my daughter’s smile isn’t on the daily agenda.
Millie leaps into my arms when I open her door. I clasp her hand in mine while we walk inside. The precaution is for safety, and in the unlikely case she needs to be reined in. She skips along beside me, tolerating my helicoptering while her mind is preoccupied with visions of puppies.
A woman at the front desk stands as we approach. “Hello there. Welcome to Rover & Meow. How can I help you?”
“Hello,” I greet. “We have an appointment with Kellie.”
“Ah, yes. She’s waiting for you in one of the indoor group spaces—Room Two. Just head down the hall and you’ll see it on the left.”
“Perfect, thank you.” I guide Millie in that direction with a hand on her back. My daughter is practically vibrating with too many emotions, all rooting for control and snagging her voice.
“You okay, baby girl?”
“Uh-huh, yep.”
I offer a soft squeeze to her shoulder. She’s twisting her fingers so tight that the skin is white. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’m just super ready and nervous and freaking out because this is crazy amazing.”
I laugh and brush a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you, kiddo.”
“I love you, Mama. Thanks for bringing me here.” Her shoes squeak on the glossy floor.
“It’s about time, right?”
“I’m glad it’s happening at all.” Her smile lights up the plain white walls with splashes of vibrant color.
My sweet little angel has been begging for this, and I’ve been dragging my feet. My insecurities and concerns hang me up, but those are mine to deal with. Reflecting them onto Millie is plain wrong. Assuming history will repeat is a crippling way to live. It’s my duty to provide a normal life for her.
Millie bumps into me with a giggling snort. She can brighten the darkest hour. This isn’t a freaking doom festival. I twist my neck side to side, forcing my tense muscles to release. The responsibility of this decision will rest on us, but I’ll carry any burden.
We reach the room and I exhale a deep breath. Millie is the one who reaches for me now, giving my hand a much-needed hug with hers. I knock, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. The door opens an inch before the woman swings it wider.
“Keegan?” Her hazel eyes are warm, creasing at the corners with a growing grin.
“That’s me,” I say with a little wave.
The woman’s gaze swings lower, focusing on the little girl clutching to me. “And this must be Millie.”
My daughter doesn’t give a verbal response. Her eyes are fixed behind the lady, to all the yips and yaps spilling out to us. She begins nodding so fast I worry her neck will hurt tomorrow. They exchange a friendly smile that eases the remaining swirling in my belly.