Page 94 of When The Mountains Held Us

I freeze at the voice as my pulse thrums in my chest. My eyes skate to the fingers still tapping their rhythm out on the bar, taking in the faded black tattoos that cover the knuckles.

No.

No no no, please, no.

Slowly, my eyes lift to meet piercing brown eyes set under thick lashes, the man’s mouth pulled up in a sneer that has my blood running cold.

This can’t be happening.

“It’s so good to see you, Oakley. You look—” he blows out a breath, his alcohol-ruddy cheeks puffing out “—great. Much better than the last time I saw you.” He chuckles and winks, like we’re sharing some kind of inside joke meant only for us.

Bile rises in my throat, my gut roiling as I try to swallow it down.

The only thing separating me from this monster is two feet of bartop, but it’s too close. He’s too close. I back up a step, my ass hitting the back bar. I grip it to keep myself upright, my knuckles going white. I don’t say anything. I can’t. I stare at Travis in shock as the memories ricochet around in my head in flashes.

“I’ll take a shot of whiskey, sweetheart.”

My limbs move of their own accord, numbly going through the motions as I prepare his drink the way I’ve done hundreds of times before. My throat constricts with the threat of tears, my eyes blurring as I work, and I will them with every fiber of my being not to fall. To not let him see how his standing here in the flesh, the culmination of all my nightmares, is affecting me.

Where the fuck is Levi?

When I’m done, I slide the drink across the bar to him. He wraps his fingers possessively around the glass, squeezing it the same way he had them wrapped around my throat the last time I saw him. Panic has me in a vise-grip, and the sounds of the lively bar around me dull to a low hum.

He throws the shot back in one fluid motion, his eyes never leaving mine. He doesn’t flinch at the burn of the alcohol as he swallows it down, but I do, knowing that each drop of that liquid is leeching into his bloodstream and turning him into more of a monster than he already is.

It’s a poison, deadly not to him, but to those unlucky enough to be within his reach. I bore the brunt of his violence more times than I can count, and it all comes rushing back to me, freezing me in a place somewhere between fury and fear.

He motions to the empty glass, and I pour another without a word, still too stunned to speak. I don’t know what I would say even if I could speak right now. I try to calm my rapid breathing enough to think of what to do. I glance at the clock on the wall and let out a breath when I see that I only have about an hour left until closing time.

Travis knocks back the second shot with practiced ease while he drags his gaze over my face and down my body, his lip curling up like he thinks I’m a petulant child in need of punishment. Rage boils in my blood at his perusal, and I tamp it down. Meeting his fire with a fire of my own never boded well for me in the past.

“Thanks for the drink, sweetheart.” He flashes me a saccharine smile, and I suppress a shudder of disgust. “I’ll see you around.” He knocks his knuckles once on the bar before turning and disappearing into the sea of people.

I expect to feel relief that he’s no longer standing in front of me, but the smothering weight of his gaze still sits as heavy as a rock in my throat. My eyes dart around the room, trying to follow his retreating form through the crowd, but he’s gone as if he’s vanished into thin air like a ghost.

“Hey, bartender!”

The summons from the group of guys at the other end of the bar catches my attention, and I hastily wipe my sweaty palms on my jean-clad thighs as I make my way over to them and take their order. I go through the motions monotonously, my mind still reeling.

Why did he wait until now to show his face? I knew he was likely still in town, but how had I been so fucking naive to think that, just because the calls stopped, he wasn’t still lurking in the shadows? He’s never been the smartest man, the alcohol and drugs effectively killing what few brain cells he had to begin with over the years.

So why now?

Over the next hour, I spend more time scanning the crowd of people, looking for him, than I spend actually focusing on my job. I spill countless drinks and offer even more apologies. When last call comes around and most of the drunk patrons have left the bar, I half expect him to come back up to me, but he doesn’t. He’s nowhere to be found.

When the final customers have left and the DJ is packed up, I flick on the house lights and do a quick scan around the room, even going as far as to check both bathrooms, but I am completely alone in the musty, alcohol-infused air of Joe’s Bar.

I check my phone quickly, noting no texts or missed calls from Levi, which only serves to heighten my anxiety. I rush through my closing tasks, not caring whether things are in tiptop shape for Layla to open tomorrow. I shouldn’t even be here tonight. I was never supposed to be here. She fucking owes me.

Pocketing my cash tips, I grab my bag from behind the bar and make my way to the front door. Usually, I leave out the back, but my nerves are all over the place right now.

I stand at the front windows and scan the empty parking lot.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three.