Fletcher knows I have pain meds in my pocket—I never go anywhere without them now—but I hate how much I need them tonight. There’s no way I’ll get through this shift without them.
Shame colors my cheeks as I swallow two pills. Is this all he sees when he looks at me now? A body that’s breaking down every day? I wish it didn’t have to be this way.
He tugs on my shirt, as if trying to get my attention. “That new color looks amazing on you,” he says gently.
It’s one of those cooling athletic shirts. Not the kind I usually wear to work, but I need them more and more lately.
I shrug.
When the guitarist strums her first note, the entire room cheers. Laughter spills over tables as people rush to the outdoor venue.
Fletcher kisses me before going to join his brother.
The last few people rush to the door from the parking lot, then it’s complete stillness. I sit on the barstool, enjoying the break, yet feeling weirdly separate from it all too. Not depressed. Just… low. Like the volume’s been turned down or something.
I like my job, I really do, but being a bouncer was never supposed to be a permanent thing. It was supposed to be a filler. Something to get me by until I could find something else. But then I liked my co-workers and even felt like I might fit in someday, so the urgency to find something else dissolved. Now, thinking of leaving them is unsettling. But how can I stay when my body fights me every hour of every shift?
I desperately need to figure my shit out. But how can I dream of tomorrow when I can barely get through today?
I scan the crowd, more out of habit than necessity, and bite back a laugh when I see Oliver leaning over the bar talking to Ace, their heads inches apart as if trying to be heard over the noise.
Oliver has zero shame and a whole lot of game for such a small guy, but there isn’t a chance in hell Ace will sleep with him. He’s picky about his partners. He likes them rough and able to carry their own, and Oliver can barely carry a crate of liquor bottles without shaking. It’ll never work.
Good luck, dude.
Declan stops by on the way to the hall. “Hey. You holding up okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer automatically. I wish people would stop watching me so fucking closely.
“Good. I saw Fletcher tonight.”
“Yeah, he came to get an autograph for his daughter.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that. But we all know that isn’t theonlyreason he’s here.” Declan winks.
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
“You guys are really hitting it off, aren’t you?”
I can’t hide my smile. “I think so, yeah.”
He studies me for a second. Not critically. Just… thoughtfully. “That’s great, man. I’m happy for you. Why don’t you take the weekend off? Spend some time with him. Might be good to get some rest before your big appointment too.”
Something about the way he says it lands wrong. My stomach sinks and my thoughts skid sideways before I can stop them.Be good for me?What the fuck did that mean?
“Did I… do something?”
He shakes his head. “No, not at all. I just thought you could use a break.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m fine, Declan.”
“I know you are. But I’m trying to keep you that way, so take the weekend. I’ll have River cover for you.”
As he walks away, I stand there, seething. It isn’t a suggestion. It isn’t even an option. Declan all but told me to take time off. Can he not see how much I’m trying? The extra effort I’m putting in?
Or maybe he does.
Fuck.
