We met at kindergarten.
Stating talking at fifteen.
By seventeen, we’d promised each other forever.
And for a while… he meant it.
“Earth to Penn!”
Fingers snapped in front of me, sharp.
Carrie’s face was the only one left.
Everyone else had cleared out.
I blinked slowly. “Ah… yes. That sounds great,” I replied, no clue what I was agreeing to.
I was speaking underwater. I was pretending to breathe.
Carrie arched a brow. “I didn’tsayanything that needed an answer.”
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted iron. Still didn’t cry. Not here. Not yet.
“Mmmm.”
She moved closer. I tried to look away out the window, toward the city. The skyline blurred, until all I could focus on was the bar.Ourbar.
One block down. Corner of the street.
I could still see us through the glass if I tried hard enough.
Me barefoot on the polished wood floors, drinking whiskey with him behind the bar after closing time. Music low. Lights dim. Just us and a battered speaker hummingTennessee WhiskeyorSay You Won’t Let Go. He’d twirl me in his arms. Laugh into my neck. Whisper things likeYou make me believe in foreverlike forever was a place, and I was his address.
“Penn, don’t do that.” Carrie’s voice was quieter now. Controlled. A low thrum of warning.
I stood. My knees cracked under the strain. Walked to the glass.
I pressed my palm to it resting my forehead on the transparent sheet. Cool. Solid. Something real.
“I can’t talk about it yet.” My voice came out hollow, like it didn’t belong to me. “Not now, Carrie. Maybe later. But not right now.”
I stared down at the street.
I could almost see us the night we opened Whiskey. Hand in hand, him dancing me barefoot on the bar top while the world slept.
“You remember that night?” he whispered as we swayed to a George Strait song at 2 a.m.
“I remember everything,” I said into his neck.
Now I’d sell my soul to forget.
I swallowed the sob building in my chest and turned around. “Can we just talk about the feature?”
Carrie hesitated. Then nodded. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”
We dove into the pitch.
It had come from a nightwithBlake, too. A couple meeting for the first time after connecting online. The way their nerves buzzed across the bar like electricity. Blake had leaned on the counter beside me, arms crossed, grinning. “This is wild,” he said. “People still willing to bet their hearts on strangers.”
