“Look man,I’m going to have to cut you off,” the bartender says, his rag pausing mid-swipe on the counter. His voice is calm, and it pisses me right the hell off.
“For what fuckin’ reason?” I growl, gripping my glass like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. “I’m fine.”
He quirks a brow, unimpressed. “Look, I don’t know how you’re able to even string together more than two words right now, but if you keep this up, you’ll drink yourself to death.”
I scoff, the sound bitter in my throat. “Death would be a mercy.”
“You always were the dramatic type,” a familiar voice cuts in from behind me.
The stool next to me scrapes as someone sits down. I turn, blinking against the dim bar light, only to find Colton fuckin’ Harrison sitting there—snow still melting into his messy hair, jacket damp from the storm outside.
He’s one of the surfers on the Saltwater Shredders, but to me, he’ll always be the kid I used to play basketball with after school, before he packed up and left town on a surfing scholarship.
Whenever he’d come back to town to visit his family, we’d catch a game together for old times’ sake and he’d always drop Saltwater Springs into conversations, nudging me to consider moving there when I didn’t know where the hell I belonged. By the time I made the move, he’d already left the team, but he hadn’t been wrong. Gabriel, the team coach, had scooped me up into his orbit without hesitation.
Colton waves the bartender over, orders a beer, and then slouches comfortably against the bar.
“The fuck are you doing here?” I finally manage once my jaw finds its way off the floor. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Hawaii with the rest of the team? Don’t tell me you’re re-joining the Rip Raiders.”
Just over a year ago, Colton had run off from the Saltwater Shredders and joined the local surf team, the Rip Raiders. I don’t know why he did that, considering how shit that team is, but he’s back with the Shredders now, where he belongs.
“You couldn’t pay me enough to join those rich fucks again.” He snorts, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink. “Nah. Gabriel gave me the week off to come visit my parents. My sister’s in town too.”
I arch a brow. “Your Hollywood-loving, popstar sister?”
“The one and only. World’s most beloved singer, and she’ll never let you forget it.” His laugh is dry, but his eyes are warm. He takes another pull of beer. “Anyway, what’s got you holed up in this shit bar, talking about dying? Thought you’d be somewhere hot, soaking in the break from work.”
If I were sober, I’d keep my mouth shut. Not because I don’t trust Colton, but because I hate spilling my problems on anyone.
Instead, I knock my knuckles against the bar and mutter, “I’ve been teaching Maisy how to snowboard up at Levi’s resort.”
Colton stills mid-drink. “Maisy?” His brows shoot up. “Olympic Skier Maisy? As in your ex? The one who sent you running from this place?”
“Alright, first of all,” I clear my throat, glaring at him, “I didn’t run. I just didn’t have anything worth staying for.”
“Ouch.”
“Oh, fuck off. Everyone knew you’d go back to the Shredders someday. You were never going to stay with this town’s bozo surf team forever.”
“True,” he admits, tipping his bottle toward me like it’s a toast. “But answer me this—why are you the one teaching her? Levi couldn’t find anyone else? Seems cruel of him to pair you two up.”
“I’m the only one he trusts not to make a move on his sister.”
Colton pauses, studying me for a moment, then his lips twist into a smirk. “Let me guess. You made a move on his sister.”
I groan, dragging a hand through my curls, frustration knotting in my chest. Even drunk, guilt for breaking Levi’s trust coils tight in my gut.
“That, and she finally told me the real reason she left me,” I mutter, wishing the bartender would take the hint and slide me one last drink.
Colton’s expression sharpens. “Which is?”
“Well not only does she blame me for the accident, but apparently she fell out of love with me too.”
“You’re fucking shitting me.” His bottle slams down on the counter. He swivels toward me fully, eyes blazing. “You don’t actually believe that, right?”
I laugh, humorless and hollow. “Doesn’t matter what I believe, Colt. It’s what she believes.”
“Come on. There’s no way in hell Maisy actually meant that.”
