A muscle in Eli’s jaw ticked. “We should probably stay in.”
“One night,” she urged. “A couple hours. We sit in a corner, have a drink. Well, you have a drink and I'll have a ginger ale, and we leave before it gets late.”
“Olivia …”
“Please.” She held his gaze. Part of her knew she was pushing, and part of her didn't care. She'd been walking on eggshells around him, trying to be patient. She needed one night where she wasn't thinking about murderers and witches and whatever it was Eli wouldn't tell her. “Do this for me? I'm going stir-crazy.”
He paused for a long moment before letting out a snort. “Fine. A couple hours.”
Axle pumped his fist. “Yes! I'll tell the boys. We're leaving at eight.” He jogged off before Eli could change his mind.
Olivia squeezed Eli's arm. “Thank you.”
He grunted, which she chose to interpret as “you're welcome.”
Chapter 13
The Barrel Bottom sat just outside town, a nondescript cinder-block building with a neon sign missing two letters and a gravel parking lot full of trucks. Inside, the floor was sticky, the jukebox was older than everyone in the room, and the air had a sour tinge that smelled like a mix of beer and fryer grease. It reminded Eli a lot of the places in Southie where he, Sloane, and Matty used to drink at when they were underage.
The clan had taken over the rear section. Axle and Snake had the pool table, while Hardy stood at the bar with a drink in hand, keeping one eye on the door out of habit. Hawk, his ankle already healed, was trying to convince Ink that karaoke was mandatory, but that was the one command the probe would not obey.
“Corner booth,” he said to Olivia after they got drinks, beer for him and ginger ale for her, as he steered them farther toward the back.
“Relax,” she said. “We’re in a bar, not a war zone.”
They’d barely settled in when a familiar voice cut through the jukebox’s twang.
“Oh my God, I knew it.” Tabitha Featherstone crossed over from the direction of the bar, drink in hand, her sister in her wake. “We overheard one of your guys talking about this place. Mother’s asleep and we were going stir-crazy.”
“You were going stir-crazy,” Astoria said. “I was reading.”
“Same thing.”
Tabitha scooted in next to Olivia and immediately started chatting away. Astoria, on the other hand, pulled up a chair at the end of the booth instead of sliding in.
“Whatcha drinking?” she asked Eli.
He raised up the bottle in his hand. “Beer.”
Her nose twitched. “You don’t talk much either.”
“Not much to say.”
She held his gaze a beat too long. “Funny. Most people who say that have the most to say.”
He took a pull from his bottle and didn’t respond. Instead, he focused his attention on the antics around him and as the evening settled in, he had to admit that going out tonight wasn’t such a bad idea. Hardy was a decent pool player, Snake was worse than he thought he was, which made it entertaining. Ink, as it turned out, actually had a decent voice for karaoke, though his song choices were questionable. Tabitha had pulled Olivia to the bar to try what she called “the best virgin margarita in three counties.” Seeing and hearing Olivia laugh as she and Tabitha clicked glasses, at the very least, made this venture out worth it.
Eli nursed his second beer and kept one eye on the door. Astoria hadn’t moved from her spot except to grab a whiskey neat at the bar.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked, turning the glass in her palm.
“Depends.”
“You’re different.” Her eyes remained fixed on her glass. “I don’t know what it is. I noticed it this morning. There’s something about you that doesn’t quite fit.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know.” Her dark brows drew together, frustration on her face evident. “I’m not trying to pry. I just don’t like not understanding things.”
