Page 20 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

Zachary

The second to last customer leaves at quarter past twelve.

Technically we're open until two a.m. on weekdays. The regulars know this. Karl, the most regular of regulars, knows this, he's been sitting at the end of the bar every Monday night since the second week we opened Highwater two years ago. Not once has he had to be asked to leave. And he won't be asked tonight. No matter how much I want to.

"Something happen tonight?" he says, as I start wiping down the bar.

"What makes you ask that?"

He drums his fingers on the bench. "I dunno, something to do with how I can set a clock to the sighs you keep letting out every five minutes."

I chuckle. I hadn't noticed I was doing that, but I guess it hadn't escaped Karl.

"Nah." I throw the tea towel over my shoulder and grab the bottle off the shelf to top him up. "Just tired."

He doesn't look convinced, watching me tidy up as he lifts the glass to his lips. In another life Karl was undoubtedly a bartender. He sees more from his seat at the end of the bar, staring into his glass, than I do some nights from behind it. Such as tonight. He quickly finishes his drink, stands, reaches for his wallet.

I wave my hand. "That round was on me. You having an early night?"

He gives me a nod of appreciation and tucks his wallet away. "I think everyone could do with an early night."

I wait to see if he'll elaborate, but he just grabs his coat off the back of his stool.

"Need a cab?" I ask, mostly out of habit.

"Nah, it's a nice night. Gonna walk tonight."

I've taken that walk with him enough times to know it's only around the corner and safe enough.

"Okay, well, thanks for coming in tonight," I say, walking him to the door.

He twists the scarf around his neck, scrutinising me for a moment. "Whatever it is? You'll sort it out, kid. Of that, I'm sure." A pat on the shoulder as he walks out the door I'm holding open.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I call after him.

He lets out a low laugh and throws me a wave without turning around.

By twelve-thirty the kitchen's clean, floor shiny from mopping. Normally I'd worry about it being empty this early, but it's the dead of winter, and things'll pick up later in the week.

I stare at the pile of paperwork waiting for me at the end of the bench, the pile I should've gotten to, considering it was a quiet night. It stares back, challenging me to tackle it. I know if I don't, Crew, my day shift manager, will give me pointed looks tomorrow. But for once, I decide one of the perks of being the owner is that the stock reports can wait, and Crew can look all he likes.

I turn off the lights. Lock up.

And make my way home. Early. For the first time in years.

The house is dark when I get home. Other than the sensor light above the front porch, which Marcus installed bright enough to land a Boeing 747, and the LEDs I insisted my liquor cabinets absolutely needed, every other light is out.

Which, while not unheard of, is a little strange.

The guys aren't the perennial night owls I am, but it's pretty common for one or all of them to be awake when I get home anywhere between two and five a.m. I drop my keys in the bowl and hang my jacket on the hook, noting Alexia's burgundy woollen coat with silver buttons on the last hook. I peek at Rhys's room, down the hall from mine. There's dim light under the door, he's probably reading in bed. Marcus's room is on the other side of the house, and if he were awake, we'd all know it. Either from the music blaring from his speakers or the sounds of whoever he has in there with him.

But tonight, there's nothing. I know he's been working extra hard lately and probably passed out the minute he got home. I walk past Leon's room. Now Alexia's. At least for the week. I try to pretend my eyes aren't straying to the crack under her door, that my ears aren't straining for any sound of her. When there's nothing, I pass off the disappointed feeling grating in my chest as what I'd told Karl. I'm just really tired.

Truth is, I'm not really surprised she's hidden away in her room.

After checking that everything was okay with the plumbing issue we had at our bar Undertow this morning, I'd come home and taken a nap. I'd thought I might see her before leaving for work this evening, but she wasn't home even when I left at 6:30 p.m., later than usual. When Leon asked in the group chat how she was settling in, Marcus texted that she'd come home around 9:00 p.m., already grabbed a bite with colleagues, and gone straight to her room. My guess is she is doing her best to take up as little room as possible. And, as a side quest, avoid crossing paths with me as much as she can.

And here I am, leaving later for work, coming home early, in the hopes that I might⁠—