His words settle deep, steady and grounding.
And for the first time, the idea of choosing something for myself doesn’t feel reckless.
It feels possible.
***
I keep twisting Michael’s words in my mind as I serve at the bar. It’s getting later and later and my mind keeps picking apart everything we talked about. It seems like everyone here has managed the art of saying a lot in as few words as possible. Like they’re all preparing for conversations to be interrupted and would rather leave a heavy impact than be inescapably clear.
Melissa and I pass time by talking until our shift is nearly up. I sigh, “I miss outings into the city or hanging around people that just want to relax.”
“Plenty of us want to relax, but don’t know what to do with ourselves,” Wes’s voice pricks my ear, setting my body on fire.
Melissa smirks and takes more dirty glasses to the back while I turn my attention to Wes. He’s one of the few here, definitely the only one that’s sober. I walk towards him, then pause when I see how exhausted he is and how his gaze tracks every step I take.
“You look like you’re carrying too much tonight,” I murmur.
“I thought you said I could carry the world,” he replies.
“Yeah, but everyone needs to set the weight down every once in a while, or to share the burden,” I murmur. “It’s not fair to expect one person to hold everything together all the time—and do it perfectly.”
He studies my face. “Is this how you see it, Hailey—sharing the weight by working here? Being part of this world, like Melissa, Michael, or me?”
“Always with the heavy questions too,” I tease. “I’m here to find out if it’s what I want, but the longer I’m here, the more reasons I find to stay.” My gaze lingers on his face even though I still want to give him space to talk. “And the more I’m sure that I’m interested in Ridgehouse for the people not the job.”
He nods once, his gaze softening even though I notice he’s gripping the edge of the table while trying to look relaxed.
“How are you, Wes, really.”
“Cap-”
“I’m asking a friend how they’re doing, not a captain. You don’t have to hide behind policy and professionalism. I’m not going to report you for being a person,” I say gently while hesitating to get him the regular coffee he requested.
He’s obviously tired. He’s rolled his sleeves up, his voice is lower than usual and I can tell that something’s off. I reach across the bar and offer my hand without touching him. He looks at my fingers and something like want wars against his stoic features. “Is that the new price for a coffee?”
“It could be.”
“I’m okay, Hailey,” he says, not looking away from me, studying my eyes like he’ll find an answer there. When I blush, I see him soften. “I appreciate your concern. Probably more than I should.”
We watch each other for a long moment, then slowly touch his hand once he sets it next to mine. “And are you really okay?”
“Well, I will be.”
“That’s not the same.”
His voice is lower, his gaze lingering on mine. “It’s better because I know what’s on the horizon.” He doesn’t move his hand away from mine right away, but when he does, I remember his request for coffee. He seems to realize how odd it is before I can point it out. “I have some paperwork to take care of tonight.”
“You can do it here, there are plenty of tables to choose from,” I encourage.
He nods and finds one. I bring his coffee, then see another customer’s hand go up for a refill. As I walk by Wes, my fingers dance across his shoulder blades, but at some point it smooths into a caress. I want to memorize the way his back feels against my palm with only thin cotton between our skin. His muscles tense, but he doesn’t say anything and, most importantly, he doesn’t pull away.
Twice, I feel his eyes on me, and twice I find him still looking instead of letting his gaze flick away. His presence, even further away, feels more consistent. He stays longer, barely talks to others, which makes every conversation with him feel more precious.
The next night, he’s there earlier, immediately sits at a table and watches me until I bring over a beer and a tasting glass for another. He arches an eyebrow at the break in pattern. I smile. “I know you’re all about routine, but sometimes routines need to have some spice, just to see if there are options that are better.”
He doesn’t look at the glass, just me. “Sounds like you’re familiar with liking options more than the status quo.”
“An easy way to miss out on life is sticking to the same. Complacency kills ambition after all,” I say, nudging the glass towards him. “Do you need me to try it first to prove it’s not poisoned?”
