The Bars Between Us

by A. S. Teague

  My mind races, but with every new thought a hundred questions pop up. I have no idea what these letters mean, what Riley’s saying, what the hell is going on.

  I’d come to my Nana’s house to clean out the personal effects, not to learn that my entire life has been a lie.

  “What are these?” I squeak, the letters still firmly in my grasp.

  Riley’s gaze finally lifts to meet mine, his eyes full of pity. “Your nana never wanted you to know.”

  “Fuck what Nana wanted!” I shout as I leap to my feet, adrenaline surging through my veins. My anger grows with each moment that he stands there mutely. “Who are these letters from?” I shout again, waving the stack in his face.

  Riley reaches for the letters but I jerk them away, out of his reach. Holding his hands up in surrender, he says the words that make my world stop spinning.

  “Your father’s not dead.”

  A wave of nausea hits me so hard I physically stumble backward. Bending over, I drop my hands to my knees and pant, trying to keep the bile that’s surged up my throat at bay.

  I’ve spent the last seventeen years of my life mourning the loss of a man that wasn’t dead.

  I’m unable to stand upright, the pain in my stomach physically holding me down. “How do you know that?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  “Grace, why don’t we go sit down?” His voice is quiet, his tone patronizing. I’m not a violent person, but the urge to hit something consumes me—that something being Riley James.

  “I. Don’t. Want. To. Sit.” I grit out. I pull myself together and stand up to face him, squaring my shoulders, and demand, “Tell me everything. Right fucking now.”

  “I only know what Marie told me.” He’s stalling, his eyes darting all over the place.

  “Dammit, Riley,” I cry. “Please.”

  The adrenaline begins to wane, leaving me weak and shaky. I’m desperate to understand what the hell is going on and, right now, the only person that can answer that for me is doing everything possible to avoid telling me.

  “Let’s just go sit down and I’ll tell you what I know,” he pleads, and this time I nod, grabbing the file folder and shuffle out of the closet behind him.

  I perch on the edge of the chaise lounge in the corner of Nana’s room and Riley sits down beside me, his large frame crowding me.

  “I can’t breathe with you sitting on top of me!” I snap before scooting away.

  He shoots me a wounded look, but I can’t care about his hurt feelings. I’m too wrapped up in the chaos that’s running through my mind.

  As if they are a child that I’m afraid will run off, I clutch the letters tightly and demand, “Talk. Now.”

  Riley blows out a breath. “Before I tell you anything, just know that your nana was only doing what was best for you.”

  I scoff. “Right. ‘Cause telling me that my father was dead, when he wasn’t, was totally the best thing for a five-year-old child!”

  “Grace,” he groans, “I know you don’t understand now, but you will.”

  “Stop defending her. She’s fucking dead. Tell me about my father. Where is he?”

  “Prison.”

  My heart stops beating.

  Prison?

  “Wha––“I gasp. “I don’t understand. I watched him die in that gas station.”

  Riley shakes his head. “He didn’t die.”

  “I don’t, I don’t understand. What do you mean he didn’t die?”

  Riley stares at me. “I mean, your mother told you he died, but he didn’t. He went to prison.”

  I’m beyond speechless, my mind working overtime, but no coherent thoughts formulating. My breathing, which had just begun to slow down, kicks back up and I feel dizzy.

  Between gasps, I sputter, “For what?”

  Riley’s eyes cut away from me and I grab his arm, digging my nails into his flesh.

  He flinches, but doesn’t cry out in pain even though I’m sure that I must be hurting him.

  “For what?” I say again, this time my voice steadier.

  When he reaches for my thigh and pats it with his free hand, I withdraw my nails from his arm and swat at him. “Don’t try to comfort me. I don’t need it. I need facts.”

  I need to know everything, and his hesitation is pissing me off. He thinks that he’s doing what’s best for me and just following Nana’s wishes, but I am not a child, and I don’t need him to sugar coat shit for me.

  What I need is for him to grow a pair of fucking balls and quit worrying about what that old bitch wanted from him.

  What I need is to know why I’ve spent my entire life missing a man that wasn’t in the urn on my mama’s dresser.

  What I goddamn need is to know where my father is and why.

  Through clenched teeth I say, “One last time, Riley. Tell me every fucking thing, and do it now.”

  I’ve never been so harsh.

  I’ve also never been so blindsided.

  Grief is a bitter fucking pill to swallow.

  But this?

  This isn’t grief.

  It’s fury.

  The phone went to voicemail.

  Again.

  For the third time.

  But it wasn’t dead.

  My calls just weren’t being answered.

  When her voicemail beeps, I decide to leave a message instead of hanging up like I had done the last two times.

  “Hey, uh, Grace. It’s Bronn. Just checking in on you. Starting to get worried? Call me back.”

  I disconnect the call and drop the phone to my desk. Pushing against the worn wood, I stand and shove a hand into my hair.

  I’d been irritated when Grace had told me that Riley was going to meet her today. It should have been me with her, there to support her while she went through that crazy old bitch’s stuff.

  Not that stuck up lawyer that had a fucking hard on for my girl.

  But things at the bar had been busy. The summer was always busy, but this year, the weather was milder and it had brought the tourists out in droves. The moment the doors opened, we were packed. My bartenders and servers were amazing, but they couldn’t keep up.

  Grace had even offered to help on her days off from the hospital, and although I’d been refusing her, I was beginning to think that I may have to take her on after all.

  My profits for the month were way up, and I decided to approach the bank again about getting the loan to buy Dani out.

  Dani was almost as ready for me to have full control as I was. She’d been swamped at the coffee shop, too, and having to be the final say on so many things here was overwhelming her.

  I’d had a meeting with the bank a couple days ago and had been waiting with bated breath ever since.

  The call had finally come.

  I’d been approved.

  I was fucking ecstatic.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Grace. To celebrate. To thank her for pushing me to try again.

  But she wasn’t answering, and I was beginning to worry.

  She’d texted when she’d arrived, so I knew she made it there safely. But I hadn’t heard a word from her in hours, which was unusual. Even when she was working she would send me cute messages about happenings at the hospital, her coworker Tina’s baby daddy drama, or just little messages letting me know she was thinking about me.

  With a frustrated breath, I grab my phone and type out a quick message:

  Me: Big news. Call me.

  I toss my phone back down before deciding that I need to quit being an obsessive asshole. I decide to check on the bartender on duty, make sure she doesn’t need any help, and stalk to the door.

  My hand is on the knob when it flies open, forcing me to jump back. Dani rushes inside, her face flushed.

  “Bronnson!” she squeals, launching herself at me.

  I throw my arms wide and catch her as she clings to me like a baby monkey.

  “Jesus Christ, Dani! What’s going on?”

  She pulls her head back and gras
ps either side of my face, her own face split wide in a grin.

  “You got the fucking loan!” she screams, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m so fucking proud of you!”

  So much for letting Grace be the first to know.

  I’m not surprised that Dani somehow knew about the loan before I could tell her. She’s got connections in the town, and a hell of a lot more fans than I do. I’m sure that the banker’s wife marched her prudish ass right over to the coffee shop to be the first to tell her the moment her asshole husband stamped the approval notice.

  I wanted to tell Grace before anyone else knew, but seeing as how I couldn’t get her to answer my calls, it looked like Dani was going to have to stand in for her.

  My lips tip up, and I fight the Cheshire Cat grin that’s trying to escape, wanting to play it cool in front of my big sister.

  Dani’s always been my biggest supporter, even back when I didn’t want her to be anything to me. She’s always cheered me on, encouraged me, and supported me.

  Even though she was only three years older than me, she felt more like a mother to me than the woman that birthed and raised me did.

  I wanted to make her fucking proud, I wanted her to see that I wasn’t the fuck-up that I was pretending to be. And she did. She always saw through my bullshit.

  So even if I couldn’t celebrate my new-found entrepreneurship with the woman I loved, Dani was not a poor substitute.

  She slaps me on the arm, the tears that were in her eyes now streaking down her face. “Don’t act like you aren’t fucking thrilled. You don’t have to be the tough guy in front of me.”

  She laughs, her nose reddening, and I finally allow myself to smile.

  “Fuck yes, I’m thrilled!” I shout, laughing with her. I throw my arm in the air, my fist pumping as though I’d just scored the winning homerun. “I’m a fucking business owner!”

  She jumps up and down clapping her hands together, and I wonder how she doesn’t break her ankle in her heels.

  “We have to celebrate! I have a bottle of Dom at the house! Let’s get together for dinner!” Her exuberance is contagious, and before I even realize what I’m doing I wrap my arms around her waist and spin my big sister.

  “I own this shithole, Dani! I fucking own the damn bar!”

  Pulling her by the arm, I race through the kitchen, shouting at the cooks to follow me.

  Once everyone’s assembled haphazardly around the bar, I jump up on it and stomp my foot.

  “I need everyone’s attention!” I scream over the din of patrons talking and silverware clinking. When the noise dies down I clear my throat, swallowing the lump that’s formed. “I just want to thank everyone here for dining and drinking with us. It’s because of you that I can officially say, I’m a small business owner!”

  Some of the guests look confused, while others are amused. The regulars that are planted at the bar have wide smiles on their faces, knowing exactly what my announcement means.

  I throw my arms out to the sides and continue, “Next round’s on me!”

  The bar erupts in applause and whoops of excitement.

  I take an exaggerated bow, my nose nearly touching my feet, and then straighten before hopping down.

  Under ordinary circumstances Dani would have had a stroke at my announcement, seeing dollar bills floating out the door at the thought of free drinks for a packed restaurant. But when I meet her eyes, she’s still grinning broadly, too damn happy to care that I’ve probably just given away a couple grand in products.

  She snags a bottle of tequila from behind the bar before looping her arm in mine. “Got glasses in the office still?”

  I nod and she winks. “Good. Let’s go start the celebration early.”

  I shout at the guys to get back to work and then we make our way back to my office, Dani kicking the door open with her heeled foot.

  While I shut the door behind us, she flops into the chair across from my desk and sets the bottle on a stack of papers. “Pour us a round.”

  I’d made it a habit not to drink while the bar was open, always wanting to be fully aware of what was going on, but there were always exceptions, and this was one of them. I slide a drawer open and fish out two glasses, blowing the dust out of them before filling them halfway with the golden liquid that was sure to burn going down.

  She holds up the glass I’ve just handed her. “A toast.”

  I groan, Dani’s history with toasts being a bit sketchy. The last toast she’d made at her mother’s wedding had started off great, gone awry with rambling about the man never replacing her dad, and then crashed and burned when her mother had pulled the microphone from her hands as Dani sobbed that she didn’t want to give her mama up.

  Dani lifts a hand and shrugs. “I promise this won’t be a repeat of the wedding apocalypse toast.”

  I chuckle and settle back in my seat, saying a quick prayer that she keeps her speech short.

  “To you,” she starts, then presses her lips together when they begin to tremble.

  “Come on, Dani. Don’t get all emotional,” I plead.

  “No, no. I’m not.” Her voice is shaky, and I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m okay.” She clears her throat once more and starts again. “To you. To my little brother, whom I always loved more than anything else. To the man that you’ve become. A man that Daddy would be proud of. To the future, wherever that may lead you. I’m so happy for you. And Goddammit, I fucking love you.”

  She smiles broadly at me, and then tosses her shot back.

  I take her lead and swallow mine, grimacing slightly as the liquor burns the back of my throat. When the sensation has finally faded, I lift my now empty glass. “Cheers. And I fucking love you, too, sis. Always have.”

  Her eyes begin to water again as my phone alerts me to a message. I drop the glass and snatch my phone off the desk, and seeing that it’s finally Grace, I let out a relieved breath.

  Grace: Something’s come up. I’m staying in Columbia a few days. I’ll call you when I can talk.

  I read her response again, the relief that I was feeling vanishing. What the fuck does she mean that something’s come up? My mind immediately flies to Riley, and I wonder if he’s convinced her that she belongs there with him?

  I hadn’t thought about not being good enough for her in months, Grace continually reminding me that we were meant to be together, that our relationship was real. But maybe he’d finally figured out a way to talk her into staying there, at the country club, with him and his people.

  I think back to when she told me that Riley would be there, helping her. My reaction hadn’t been that bad. We hadn’t parted on bad terms, but maybe she’d had time to think on it and decided that she didn’t like my jealousy.

  My fingers fly over the keyboard on my phone as I rapid fire questions at her.

  Me: Are you okay?

  Me: What’s going on?

  Me: I should have come with you.

  Me: Just answer me, please.

  I read back over the texts, realizing that I sound like a whiny bitch. Groaning, I drop the phone on the desk.

  If I want her to talk to me, and tell me what’s going on, harassing her probably isn’t the way to get her to open up.

  “Bronn? Everything okay?” Dani’s voice interrupts my inquisition and my head snaps up.

  “It’s just Grace,” I mumble, still analyzing every word of the short text she sent.

  Dani stands and comes around the side of the desk. “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t fucking know,” I tell her honestly. I don’t know if she’s okay because she’s been avoiding my calls all day. “I haven’t talked to her since she got to her grandmother’s house hours ago. And now she sends this cryptic message. So, I have no idea what’s going on.”

  Dani picks my phone up and does a scan of the messages. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just got some legal stuff to work out. But you, on the other hand, sound a bit psycho.”

  I take my phone back,
ignoring her accurate comment and stare at the screen, willing the text bubble to pop up. After what seems like an hour, I say fuck it and dial her number.

  Her phone goes straight to voicemail without even ringing.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure she’ll call you soon.” Her words are meant to be reassuring, but her voice doesn’t sound convinced.

  “Yeah,” I murmur. “I’m sure she will.”

  I grab the forgotten bottle of tequila and take a swig, not even bothering with the glass. I have no idea what is going on with Grace, but the rock that’s formed in the pit of my stomach tells me that whatever it is, it’s not good.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I couldn’t think.

  I couldn’t move.

  I was paralyzed by the information overload, my brain threatening to shut down completely while trying to comprehend what Riley had just spent the last two hours telling me.

  My father was not dead.

  He was very much alive, rotting away in state prison for a crime that he didn’t commit.

  I didn’t give a single shit that a judge and jury had found him guilty seventeen years ago. I didn’t care a bit that there was no one else that could have done it. I didn’t want to hear the evidence against him.

  I knew my daddy. I knew that he was not capable of doing what he was accused of.

  He just wasn’t.

  My Daddy was kind. He was warm. He was gentle. He and my mama never argued, and if they did, it was quiet, behind closed doors, and it never bled out to me. He worked hard, did the best he could to provide for his family without a high school diploma in a small town. He was honest, never once taking something that he couldn’t afford. My mama loved him, she wore her wedding band for years in his absence. How could she love someone that wasn’t good?

  So, the story that Riley fed me was horse shit, probably concocted by my spiteful grandmother. It didn’t surprise me in the least that she had enlisted Riley’s help keeping this secret from me. She’d pushed us together, insisting that we would be together. He was from good stock she once said, we would be a great match. As though we were living in the past, where arranged marriages to strengthen alliances were still done. And while a romantic relationship was never in the cards for us, at least as far as I was concerned, we had formed a bond, a friendship.