CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ATLAS
I hadn’t beenable to leave fast enough, needing to get out of my home before Sutton returned. I’d fled to the workout room in the high school, but there’d been no escape for me. My mind kept spinning back to what I’d known from day one.
Sutton wasn’t the kind of woman who stuck around.
She’d built a career on being temporary. I’d just been the fool who’d deluded himself into thinking she might stay. All while ignoring the voice in the back of my mind reminding me that the people I cared about always left.
Running ten miles didn’t do shit to clear my head. Hopefully some alcohol would.
It was after eleven when I stepped into One Night Stan’s, not bothering to return the greetings tossed my way from the patrons inside. Instead, I walked behind the bar, ignoring Lincoln’s questioning glance, and grabbed a bottle of Blanton’s Gold Edition and a tumbler.
Sitting down on a stool as far from everyone else as possible, I slammed the glass down on the bar top and poured a double shot. I swallowed it down without hesitation, then poured another.
I was a big guy, and it took a hell of a lot for me to even feel a buzz. To get me drunk enough so I could forget this day would take a fuck-ton. I just wished there were something that could make me forget the past two months.
Before I could lift the third pour to my lips, Lincoln set a hand on my forearm. “You in a race to see who can get shit-faced first? Considering you’re the only one in it, I think you can slow down. You’re winning.”
“Fuck off,” I said without heat and brought the glass to my lips. This time, I sipped the liquid, feeling the burn of the first two glasses already working their way through my system.
Linc pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen before he pocketed it and braced his hands on the bar top. “Part of the gig of being a bartender is people usually tell me why they’re drowning their sorrows in a bottle.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. I was nowhere near numb enough for that.
Instead of pressing me, Lincoln just let me be, keeping an eye on me while serving other customers. I had no idea how much time had passed when Declan set his helmet on the bar top next to me, only that I was finally starting to feel a little of that numbness I’d been so desperate for.
“What the hell is this about?” he asked.
He got nothing but silence from me, just like Lincoln had. But it didn’t matter, because Linc strolled over, all too happy to fill Declan in.
“Don’t know. The asshole won’t talk to me. Idoknow he’s drunk more than his share of that three-hundred-dollar bottle of Blanton’s, though.”
“Right,” Declan said. A pause followed, and I could feel the weight of his attention on the side of my face. Then he spun to face the bar and boomed, “We’re closing early. Time to get the fuck out.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Lincoln asked.
Declan turned back to him. “You think anyone else in Starlight Cove needs to see him like this? Mabel’s probably already on her way over for an interview.”
“I don’t disagree,” Lincoln said. “I’m just saying you could have used a little tact.”
“That’s your job, not mine.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Lincoln grumbled before stepping out from behind the bar. “Sorry, everyone, burst pipe in the bathroom. Regulations say we’ve got to close up until we get it fixed. Should be up and running tomorrow, so we’ll make it up to you with two-for-one drinks.”
It didn’t take long before the hum of voices faded, leaving nothing but the music pouring from the speakers until even that was cut off.
“The discount for those two-for-one drinks is coming out of your cut, not mine,” Declan said to Linc.
Lincoln braced his arms on the bar top and snorted. “Are you kidding? It’s coming out of this idiot’s cut.”
If he was hoping that would provoke a response from me, he was sorely mistaken.
“Jesus Christ,” Dec muttered. “Enough with the silence. I didn’t get called over here on a DEFCON 1 alert for you to sit there like a toddler refusing to talk.”
“Nothing to say.”
“Well, something made you think coming over here was a good idea,” he said.
