I sit back in my chair, watching as Nick sets two glasses down, sloshing beer over the side of one. His lips quirk as he presses that drink toward me, spreading the growing puddle across the table.
“Thanks,” I say dryly, grabbing the wet glass and tipping it to my mouth, my throat working as I drink half of it in one go. “How was your shift this morning?”
Nick lifts a shoulder. “Not as busy as I expected, honestly. Maybe everyone decided to keep it quiet after a big weekend.”
I laugh. “It’s coming. Just you wait.”
He groans. “No shit. I fucking hate Christmas.” He sips his drink, his eyes settling on me across the table. He slowly lowers the glass down, never blinking, and I scowl.
“Maybe you should take a picture,” I grumble. “What the fuck?”
“Apart from Thanksgiving, I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately,” Nick says. “Where the fuck have you been?”
I shake my head. “Nowhere. Life is just hectic, youknow? Gracie and I have plans to go and see the house over on Oak, and with Christmas coming up…” I trail off with a shrug, looking around the bar. Anything to avoid the shrewd look in his eyes.
The problem with someone knowing you for as long as Nick and I have been in each other’s lives is that it’s hard to hide anything from the asshole.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says abruptly, and I drag my attention back to him.
“What’s up?” A buzz of worry surges through me at the look in Nick’s eyes.
“What was going on with you and Paisley on Thanksgiving?”
I jerk back in surprise. That was about the last thing I expected him to ask, especially when he’s aware of the history between his sister and me. Nick knows that she hasn’t spoken to me once since she left for college four years ago, cutting me out of her life as effectively as sawing off an infected limb.
“What?” I ask. “Nothing happened. Fuck, man. Your face scared the shit out of me. I thought you were about to tell me you were dying or some shit.”
Nick runs a hand through his hair, leaving the strands standing up on end. “Sorry,” he grimaces. “I just…I needed to get this straight with you.”
“Get what straight with me?” I ask, bewildered.
He doesn’t answer straight away, his brown eyes narrowing as he watches me. He leans forward, planting one hand on the table, asking firmly, “Did you and Paisley stay in contact while she was at school?”
“No, and you know that. Thanksgiving was the first time I’ve seen her in four years.” I was shocked at seeing Paisley—her smile crooked and familiar, the overhead lights shining on the faint dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose. It was the shock that held me frozenbefore flinging me back into a past where I had spent an entire movie counting each one of those freckles.
But shock is fleeting, and reality creeps back in, reminding me there’s no stepping back into the past and pretending my life isn’t happening. That I didn’t see?—
I slam a steel gate down on the thought just as Nick asks, “You guys never talked on the phone? On social media?”
“If I had, I would’ve told you,” I say impatiently. “And social media? Are you kidding?” He rolls his eyes, conceding that point.
Social media is not something I’ve ever gotten into, hating the idea of putting my whole life out onto the internet. I’ve got a profile on one app, but it was reluctantly made to get my mother off my back. I haven’t logged into it since I made it, and I can’t even remember the password.
“What the hell is going on, Nick? Why are you asking me this?”
He blows out a slow breath, his fingers tight around his beer. “Paisley has been asking about you,” he confesses quietly. “And she was asking about Gracie.”
My stomach drops—the same way it does when you drive too fast over an unexpected hill. “Was she?”
I can’t quite work out how I feel about that. It’s been three days since Thanksgiving and, for the most part, I’ve been able to shove that night—and her—out of my head, locking it down in a box labeled asDo Not Touchand shelving right next to the other one.
“Yeah.” He grunts. “I don’t know what’s going on with Paisley, but she’s sticking around for a while.”
“She was gone for a long time.”
“Yeah.” Nick’s expression is unreadable. “How was Gracie when you took her home? She was pretty quiet by the end of the night.”
My brow pinches, worry coursing through me at the mention of my girlfriend. “She had a headache. Between lunch with my parents and dinner with yours, it was a long day. She’s not used to big family holidays.”
