“Jayson!” I protest, but he just grins wider.
Lark stares at me like I’ve just told her I won the lottery. “You made out with Calvin. In our bar. During business hours. And I’m just finding out now? Hours later?”
“It’s been a little crazy since then,” I say weakly, gesturing at the half-full bar. “We’ve been busy.”
“Busy my ass. You’ve been holding out on me.” She releases my arm only to grab my shoulders. “This conversation isn’t over. I want every single detail later. But first the most important question. How was it? And don’t you dare give me some vague answer.”
“Life-altering,” I admit quietly.
“I knew it!” She does a little contained dance behind the bar. “Finally! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?”
“Can we please just work?” I beg, but I’m fighting a smile now too.
“Work? You want me to work after dropping this bomb on me?” But she’s grinning as she grabs a bar towel. “Fine. But we’re talking later. Every. Single. Detail.” She squeezes my arm again, her expression softening. “For real though? Good for you.”
I can’t stop the smile that keeps trying to break free. Everything just got impossibly complicated. But as I watch the familiar rhythm of the bar, Marcus working on his sketches,regulars nursing their drinks, Lark shooting me knowing looks every time she passes, I realize that for the first time in years, I feel completely, recklessly alive. My skin still hums hours later. And tonight, after closing, I’m going to see him again.
Maybe complications are worth it. Maybe safe was never really what I wanted anyway.
CHAPTER 16
CALVIN
The Black Lantern pulls at me like gravity.
It’s been five hours since I kissed Maren. Seven hours since we agreed to talk later. Seven hours of replaying not just the kiss but that small smile when she admitted she wasn’t sorry either. The promise in “later” keeps echoing in my head.
I shouldn’t go to the bar. She’s working, and we’re supposed to talk after her shift. But I can’t stay in that cabin another minute, can’t keep pacing the same floor, can’t stop replaying this afternoon. The walk to the bar feels necessary, like movement might quiet my mind. I tell myself I’m just going for a beer, that I won’t even talk to her if she’s busy.
I’m lying to myself, but at least I’m aware of it.
The evening is cooling as I walk, that particular Pacific Northwest late summer shift where the heat breaks around seven and the air suddenly remembers the ocean. Part of me wants to have updates about the house situation, something concrete to offer Maren beyond just showing up. But what would I say? That Dominic is planning to demolish everything?That I confronted him and got nowhere? That I’m trying to figure out how to stop it but have no actual power? None of that helps her. It just adds to the weight she’s already carrying.
The crowd is building when I walk in, the after-work rush filling the room with familiar noise. I take a seat at the far end of the bar, away from the main traffic but with a clear view of the room. And the door to the back office. And the kitchen pass. Basically anywhere Maren might appear from.
Lark spots me immediately and saunters over. Her grin is absolutely wicked. “Well, well, well. Look who’s here.”
“Just here for a beer, Lark,” I say, fighting a smile of my own.
“Uh-huh.” She grins wider. “Maren’s in the back. But I’m sure she’ll be out soon.” The way she says it, drawing out the word ‘soon,’ suggests she knows exactly what happened and is enjoying every second of this.
“Mmm,” I say noncommittally, settling in more comfortably on the stool.
“One beer for the man who’s definitely not waiting for anyone in particular.” She’s already reaching for a glass, clearly enjoying herself.
I can’t help but laugh at that. “You’re subtle, Lark.”
“Subtlety’s overrated.” She sets the pint in front of me with a wink. “Besides, you’re not exactly hiding it well.”
She heads back to her other customers, still grinning. I take a long swallow of the Rainier. It goes down crisp and cold, just bitter enough to steady me, just familiar enough to remind me I’ve sat at this bar more nights than I can count.
I’m contemplating ordering food just to have an excuse to stay longer when Adrian walks in, a familiar-looking woman trailing behind him. Of course he’s back. Because this day needed another complication. The universe clearly has a sense of humor, and it’s aimed directly at me.
Adrian spots me and his face lights up. He’s like a shark sensing blood in the water, and I’m apparently bleeding.
“Calvin,” he calls out, steering the woman toward me. “Twice in one day. Small town living, right?”
“Adrian.” I keep my voice neutral, though seeing him here again, in Maren’s bar, after everything that happened this afternoon, feels like deliberate provocation. Or maybe I’m just looking for reasons to dislike him more than I already do.
