Maybe he really did believe it was the best thing for the Hollow. Maybe he thought he was saving it. But from where Istood, it looked like betrayal dressed up as good intentions. And Greer? She deserved better.
He’s also just a smarmy little asshole. I don’t like his curly hair or his smug face, and I’m not particularly excited that he’s here, barging in on the celebration.
The two of us have come to blows over small things throughout the years. A cracked word, a crooked look. Fists behind the Harbor Light after one too many whiskeys. He’s the kind of man who smiles while you hit him and then hits back harder.
That’s why I freeze when I see him reach behind Elsie and rest his arm along the back of her chair. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t lean into it, either.
Still, my pint glass creaks in my hand.
The bar fades. All I can see is Beau, too close, too familiar. Then Elsie turns and finds my eyes across the table. She holds the gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
Hers saysit’s all good, trust me. Mine saysI’m trying.
Jack nudges me with his elbow, breaking the thread. “So. You and Elsie?”
I shift in my seat. “What about it?”
He smirks. “Don’t get defensive. I’m asking how it’s going.”
“We agreed to wait to pursue a relationship,” I tell him. “Until the designation went through. Until she makes her decision about the inn. I suppose that means we’re halfway there.”
“And if she decides to leave?”
The question lands harder than I let on. “Then I’ll deal with it.”
Jack raises one eyebrow. “That easy?”
“There are phones.”
He snorts into his drink. “You, of all people, are going to have a long-distance relationship built on phone calls?”
“I’m not a dog, Jack.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I say, more firmly this time.
Jack lifts his beer. When he turns, he catches sight of the dartboard. Beau is standing beside Elsie, hand on her elbow, whispering something in her ear.
She laughs and leans in.
Jack whistles under his breath. “Maybe you should go and get your girl.”
I rise before I can talk myself out of it. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Elsie looks up when I reach her. There’s a flicker of relief in her eyes before she tucks it away, shoulders lifting in that practiced, polite way I’ve come to recognize. I know this kind of crowd—too loud, too many eyes. She’s doing her best, but I can see the weight of it pressing in.
“Want another drink?” I ask, aiming for easy. “I can get it for you.”
She hesitates for half a second, then smiles up at me. “I’ll come with you.”
She turns to Isla, murmuring something about behaving, and then she’s beside me again. Close enough that I catch the scent of cinnamon and cold air on her skin.
At the bar, she raises her glass. “Cheers.”
I tap it. “Didn’t really think this was your scene.”
She gives a tired laugh. “It isn’t. But I’m making an effort. Still, I’m running out of steam.”
