“I’m not offended that you find red ugly. It’s not a great color.”
“It’s not, right?” he says carefully.
“Not after you’ve seen as much blood as I have.” The words come out flat. Too flat. There should be more emotion there.
He frowns but doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. Just studies me like I said something important, and he’s filing it away for later. Guess it says a lot about me. Can’t care what people think about me, though. Not lately.
“Sorry. It’s been a rough day.” That’s the normal thing to do, right? I’m not drunk, but when I’m spiraling, I don’t have much of a filter or a handle on my morals.
He smiles and something twists in my stomach. “That’s okay. I have bad days all the time.”
“Excuse me,” someone grunts. The guy sitting on the stool behind Miles gets up to leave, so he hops onto it, still facing me.
“Are you here with anyone?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“You often come to bars alone?”
“Do you?”
“How do you know I’m alone?”
“Because I was here when you walked in, and you haven’t talked to a single person since.”
“Observant,” I comment, taking a sip.
“Yeah, my sister hates it. She says I need to chill out and just let things go.”
“You’re close?”
I don’t know why I’m asking this. I don’t typically make small talk with people I meet at bars. If I’m meeting someone, it’s for a reason—and one reason only. Which hasn’t happened in a long time. I’m trying to be good. I didn’t come here for that tonight; I came to have a few drinks so I could go home with a clear mind and sleep without nightmares.
“Very close,” he says. “When our parents died, they left us a bunch of money, and we bought a two-family house together. She works second shift at the hospital, so I babysit a lot. My nephew is great though, so I don’t mind. Coolest seven-year-old you’ll ever meet, that’s for sure. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
My stomach turns heavy, and I take another sip. “I have two brothers.”
“Cool. Are you close?”
“We’re brothers,” I say.
“That wasn’t what I asked,” he says gently.
I think about that, considering my options for answering, before actually opening my mouth.
“My brother, Nash, is a cop, so I don’t see him much, even though he lives twenty minutes away. My other brother, Hollis, he lives in California. I visit sometimes.”
“Wow, that’s far.” He chuckles. “Are you from here?”
“California,” I say, taking the last bit of my drink. That was my fifth and I’m still not feeling it. What a waste.
I get to my feet, and he frowns as his eyes follow my movement. I can’t stay here any longer and dig into my personal life. The beer isn’t helping. All it’ll end up doing is making me sick, so I may as well go home. My phone vibrates on the counter. It’s AJ calling, but I press the button on the side to ignore it. I can’t talk to him right now, which is exactly why he’s calling I’m sure. Like my brother, he always senses when I’m in a mood and calls to check in.
He’s the closest thing I have to a friend, I guess, though calling him that feels weird. We’ve known each other for years, but we don’t dofriendthings. We work together. Talk now and then. Grab beers.
“Leaving?” Miles asks. There’s something in his voice. Not clingy. Just… disappointed.
“I’m exhausted. Just got off a 24-hour shift.”
