Page 97 of Bastard Bartender

She acts like it’s something I’ve forgotten. There is nothing that could make me forget the smell of ammonia everywhere, the tears of my mother, or the wails of my friends’ parents as the doctors announced they’d passed away. I was too afraid to meet new people because for a while, I thought it was for the best not to get attached. I couldn’t handle losing one more person, so I took on a fight-or-flight mentality. Get better and move on. If I die, then so be it.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

The disappointment is evident as she sighs and holds on to her cup like it has all the answers in the world inside it. It’s obvious I have survivor’s guilt. I don’t need a therapist to explain that to me, nor do I need to rehash it out with my mom. I was a little boy with no friends and then a preteen with no social life because I was kept in a box.

If she wants to rehash something, we can talk about that.

But I won’t go there because it’s not worth it. My parents did what they thought was right to protect me. I know that.

It’s that thought that makes me stop and offer her a small grin. “I know you’re worried about me because I had the shittiest childhood, but I think I turned out okay. All the things I couldn’t do then, I’ve more than made up for.”

She nods. “That’s why we’ve sat back and watched you run off to explore the world. Nic, you were held down for so many years, and you needed to run. We didn’t like it, but we understood it. Running off to Mexico and Europe. You traveled all over the country with a few dollars in your pocket. It was frightening for us to worry where you were, but we were happy for you because you were happy. But you can’t run forever. Sometimes, the best adventures are lived here.” She places her hand on her heart. “What you seek is thrilling, but it fades. At some point, everyone has to decide when they’re ready to seek their adventures in their own home.”

“You act like you know what’s going through my head.”

“I know everything. Even how until high school, you used to cry at night.”

I had no idea she knew about that.

I swallow hard and nod. “I was terrified of the cancer coming back. I knew if it did, I wouldn’t make it through. The stats are still against me to this day. I didn’t want anyone to know how I felt, and I still don’t because I know how hard you and Dad tried to get me the best care. You moved to this country for me.”

A tightness in my chest coils. I have to take a breath to tame it.

Mom places her hand on mine. It’s soft and cool and comforting. “It’s okay to be scared. Scared about being sick again, scared about wasting the days you have, scared of losing more friends, scared of falling in love. You want the rush? Well, life is a rush. It’s the greatest high of a lifetime.”

“Look at you, talking about getting high.”

She eyes me sheepishly through her dark eyes. “You’re old enough to know I did a few things in my younger days.”

I laugh out loud and revel in the fact that my mother can still surprise me.

“You are always running into the noise.” She places her cup of tea on the table and leans forward. Her hands are on her elbows as she looks at me sincerely. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

With a stern slap on my knee, she ushers me to do as she said. “Just close them.”

I do as I was told and let out a grumble. When I try to peek out of one, she gives a stern look back, and I close my eyes again. This time, breathing deeply and going along with it.

“The best things in life are found in the silence,” she says.

It’s no surprise that the first thing I see is Evette. She’s seated at the dining room table with a pile of papers in front of her. She’s deep in thought as she makes a bunch of marks. Her brow is furrowed, and I know just what to do to make it go away. I walk behind her and rub her shoulders. She lets out a sweet moan and then rolls her head back. I kiss her and let it linger so long that she drops her pencil and swings around toward me.

There’s a hair tie on my coffee table. Evette left it here last week. She always lets her hair down after work. She does this comb-through of her brown locks and makes a purring sound. It’s cute as hell, as is the way her tiny feet curl up under her when she’s snuggled on the couch.

I miss her.

I’m lost without her.

It’s been a few weeks, and she makes her way into my thoughts twenty times an hour. The way she smells sweet as honey or how she chews on her pen caps when she’s concentrating on something. Her laugh is impossible to forget. It’s throaty with a high-pitched squeak at the end when she thinks something is really funny. And she’s fun. I’ve smiled more times with her than I have with any other woman.

What I wouldn’t give to dance with her one more time. Feel her curves in my hands and whisper sweet nothings in her ear and feel her hand clenched on mine, which I always assumed mirrored the actions of her thighs.

My Evette.

The tightness in my chest has uncoiled, and in its place is a soaring rush to my head. Just the thought of kissing her again has me ready to leap off the couch.

Evette is my ultimate rush. Always has been, always will be.

Man, am I a fucking fool.

“I called her to see how she was feeling,” Mom offers, causing me to open my eyes wide. “She’s leaving tonight.”

“Tonight?” I sound like I’m panicking. That’s probably why my heart is pounding.

Mom grins with a know-it-all tip to her head.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I state looking away from her.

“She’s only going to sign the contract on her new job and will be back. That gives you a few days to make up your mind about what you want to do with the rest of your life.”

I shake my head because it’s my natural defense. “What if what we have isn’t enough? I’ve been running for so long—”

“Stop running. You always want to rush, but it’s in the stillness that you feel the love. Stop for a moment and be. Embrace that. Dance in it. Make a life in it. This is the life you fought so hard to live for. Go live it, my son.”

“Are you saying you want me to get up off the couch?”

“I only give you permission to leave if you are doing the right thing.”