The hairs on the back of my neck rise, a shiver crawling down my spine. I glance over my shoulder to find Hunter there, crouched by the fridge, restocking bottles. His eyes are on me. Heat rises up my neck, and I quickly look away,but not before Connor catches where my attention went. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.
“You guys sort things out?” he asks.
“Nope. Not yet.”
“You gonna be okay, Madi girl?” he asks, genuine concern shining in his eyes.
“There’s progress,” I say with a small smile. “I no longer want to run away.”
“That’s our queen.”
“Queen?” My eyes widen. “Who the hell are you calling a queen?”
“Aw, come on. You know you’re our queen,” Connor laughs, slinging an arm over my shoulders and giving me a light squeeze.
“I’m gonna go say bye to Asher and head out,” Halle says, already backing away. “See you guys later.”
“Come on, let’s get this night over with,” I mutter to Connor as I wave to Halle.
The hours crawl by at a turtle’s pace—slow, relentless, drawn out. Every time I pause for even a breath or a sip of water, I feel him. Hunter’s gaze. He traces my every move from across the bar. My skin prickles under it. His eyes narrow when I laugh at something someone says, when I lean too close to grab an order. The tension in me is coiled so tight, I feel like I might combust.
“Another beer, Hank?” I ask, grabbing the empty glass from in front of him.
At this point, Hank’s practically part of the furniture. He’s been coming in every night for the past three years, sits in the same spot, with the same quiet nod, and drinks the same four beers before heading home to an empty house. His wife passed from cancer, and he’s never really come back from it. My mom was her favorite nurse, and by thefourth beer, he likes to remind me of this. I tilt the glass, letting the beer rise to the rim before sliding it over to him. His calloused hand meets mine for just a second as he hands me the cash.
“Does he know he’s not very good at hiding it?” Hank asks, his gaze flicking toward Hunter before finding mine again.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” His mouth quirks.
He lifts his beer, tipping the glass toward me, taking a long sip. “You know your momma and my Katy got to be real good friends.”
My chest tightens. I always know it’s coming, but the ache never softens. The mention of Katy still pulls on my heart, but he likes to keep her memory alive, and I’ll never stop him. It feels like the least I can do.
“She once told Katy how much she wished you two would stop fighting it,” he says, eyes cutting briefly toward Hunter. “From where I’m sitting, it looks like he’s losing that fight finally.”
A nervous laugh escapes me as I wipe down the counter. “You know, one of these days, you and my mom should catch up. She would love that, you know. She misses Katy, too.”
He pauses, the faintest frown tugging at his lips. “Maybe one day. But not today.”
He taps the glass on the counter, sliding it back to me. “That’s me for tonight. You have a good night, Madison.”
He looks around the bar—his usual quiet scan of the place—then pulls his cap back on and heads for the door.
Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I set it up—Mom and Hank meeting again. Not in the hospital halls, or under the shadow of treatments, but somewhere normal. Iknow Katy was his everything, but life can be lonely and way too short. Maybe Katy loved my mom because she saw something in her. Something that maybe Hank would one day need.
“You okay over here?”
His voice startles me from behind, and I nearly drop the glass I’m drying.
“Fine,” I manage, reaching for another glass just to have something to do, anything to keep my hands busy.
The air shifts when Hunter steps closer, warmth radiating off him. It’s familiar—I can feel it against my back, crawling under my skin like old times. I force myself to keep moving because I can’t get lost in what used to be our normal. How I’d let him slide up behind me, his fingers grazing my waist, the soft brush of his breath at my ear. The smallest of touches that would set my skin on fire. Again and again until we flipped the sign toclosed, until the music faded, and it was just us, standing there, with nothing but the built-up tension we always gave in to.
“Will you have a drink with me tonight?” he asks, his tone laced with desperation.
It’s something we used to do after every shift. One drink to unwind, to let the night settle. Sometimes Connor and Asher would hang around too, but when Hunter left, we couldn’t bring ourselves to keep it going. It didn’t feel right to have that drink without him. We kept the bar running, but something between the team fractured, and it was his disappearance. The uncertainty of whether he’d ever walk back through those doors again.
