“Nothing.” I down half the bottle.
“You letting her leave?” Lance asks. “I heard her tell Nana she was leaving soon.”
I down the rest before standing. Flexing my fingers to relieve some of the pressure in my joints, I look at Lance. “I can’t stop her from doing what she wants.”
“No,” he says. “But you could let her do what she wants by asking her to stay.”
“I can’t,” I almost hiss.
“You fucking can too,” Lance fires back.
My blood pressure spikes because this motherfucker just doesn’t get it. No one gets it. They would if I told them the truth. Hell, if they knew the truth, they’d probably be disappointed in me too.
I can only imagine their faces, the two men who are my two role models in life, two good as fuck guys who have some internal compass I lack, if I told them what they don’t know.
That her dad left the week before she turned eighteen for Reno with a note written on the back of a grocery receipt as a goodbye. I was nowhere to be found when she broke down because I thought it was a good idea to get hammered the night before and pass out in a hayloft on the other side of Merom after running from the police for speeding about thirty miles over the limit.
That she discovered she was pregnant the next week—the same day I was fired for missing too many days of work.
That I couldn’t pull myself together fast enough to make her think having a baby with me would be better than living with giving our child up for adoption.
I’m a joke of a man. All I’ve managed to do with my life is fail the only girl I’ll ever love in the worst of ways over and over again.
“Maybe I could make her stay,” I say, my voice eerily calm. “But I won’t.”
“And why the fuck not?” Walker asks.
I glare at him. “Sometimes life isn’t about what makes you feel good. Sometimes it’s about what makes you able to live with yourself.”
“Explain to me how, if you really love her, you can live without her,” Lance says. “Because I don’t get it.”
“Maybe it’s really hard to look in her eyes and see my failures, all right? Maybe I’m a pussy, like Walker says, and I can’t stand to think what a bitch I am every time I fucking see her. How I’m responsible for the worst part of her life. How she’ll never be whole because of fucking me!” My breath comes out so hard, so hot, my nostrils flare. “How her life will be a constant state of fucked up because I can’t be a fucking adult, all right? I mean, I own a goddamn bar. I’m begging an asshole in a suit to trust me enough to loan me a basic fucking loan so I can start another business I have no business running.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, guys. I’ll never be able to take care of her—not like I should. Not like she deserves.”
I barely catch my breath when Lance laughs.
“Well, that was impassioned,” he says. “Have you considered open mic night at the bar? I think you could really do something with that.”
“Fuck you.”
Walker holds a hand to Lance, stopping him from a retort.
“Look, Mach,” Walker says, letting his gaze linger on Lance until he’s sure he’s shut up. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry it did because it’s obviously fucked you all the way up.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter. “The bar was the nail in our coffin.”
“Why is the bar such a problem for her?” Walker asks.
My head hangs. “Her mom was killed by a drunk driver. So, she had this immediate reaction like it was the worst idea ever, which, in retrospect, it might’ve been. I don’t know. She didn’t get why I wanted to buy it off Uncle Vince, and honestly, I don’t know if I understood it then.”
Squeezing my eyes closed, I think back to the day I asked Uncle Vince if I could buy it from him. He laughed and said my mother would’ve killed him had she known her only brother was selling her son a tavern. He tried to talk me out of it, but he was dying of cirrhosis, and I was dying of the heartbreak of losing my daughter and Hadley. Even though she was still around, she was only there out of habit. I knew she’d leave eventually.
It wasn’t too long after I bought it for less than a used car that Hadley asked me to marry her.
I said no.
She left.
And I’ve lived my life sort of floating around with no anchor since.
“Do you understand it now?” Walker asks.
“Understand what?”
“Why you wanted to buy it.”
I walk across the kitchen and blow out a breath. My entire body is tight. My shoulders slump like the whole damn world is sitting on them.
“I like it,” I say simply. “I like hearing everyone’s stories and watching their lives play out. I like giving my two cents. And I like having something that was in our family, which might sound weird.” Flicking the bottle cap Walker left on the counter, I watch it hit the edge of the sink and bounce in. “I don’t have a lot of options. You have Crank. Lance has his teaching bullshit. What do I have? I’m not good at anything.”
“I got this one,” Lance says, pointing a finger at Walker. “I get why you’re a little rough on yourself for owning a bar.”
“Not helping, Lance,” Walker grumbles.
Lance waves him off. “But that’s all superficial. Let’s break this down.”
“Make it quick. I gotta piss,” I lie.
He rolls his eyes. “Historically, what are you good at? What are your strengths? I’d say partying. Causing mayhem. And …” He looks at me. “Observing people and taking care of people you care about.”
“I—”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m not done,” Lance says. “Walker, you got my back if he lunges, right?”
Walker chuckles. I try not to laugh.
“Anyway,” Lance continues, “the bar is the perfect place for you. When I help my students narrow down their career choices, I tell them to look at their strengths and pick something that falls within those boundaries that interests them. You did that. Maybe you didn’t do it with that thought process, but you did it anyway.”
It makes sense, but I don’t care. It doesn’t solve my real problem.
Walker stands and heads to the trash can. After polishing off the rest of his beer, he tosses the bottle in the garbage. “I’m out of here. Do what you want. Just don’t fuck your whole life up because you made some bad choices. We’ve all done it.” He swings the door open. “Call me if you need anything,” he says over his shoulder as the door shuts.
“I gotta go too,” Lance says. “Mariah wants chicken noodle soup, and I have to drive all the way to Peaches to get it because Megan McCarter is working at Carlson’s. Did you know that?”
“Yeah.”
Grinning at the memory of picking Hadley up in the rain, I sigh. I can still feel her in my arms. I can taste her lips, feel her body against mine.
I look at my brother. “Are you ever worried you’ll fall back into your old ways?”
“No.” He doesn’t laugh or smile or even pretend to be amused by my question.
“Seriously? Like you never think you’ll ever want to sleep with some random girl you see on the street?”
“Is that what this is about?” he asks. “Do you want to fuck around?”
“Not at all.”
“Then why ask that?” He studies me closely. “Are you worried you’ll turn back into a punk?”
“Gee, thanks.” I snort.
He laughs. “Mach, you were an asshole for a long time. I was there for all of it. Or most of it,” he reconsiders. “But I have faith that you won’t get arrested, punch anyone who doesn’t deserve it, wreck a car, or lose your money in a high-stakes poker tournament again.” He heads for the door. “Now I’m going to get some soup and then go home to the one girl who makes all the pussy I miss out on worth it.”
“Later,” I say as he leaves.
Once I’m alone, I survey the room. I wonder if Hadley would be happy here. I try to imagine her watching the sun go down out the window over the sink or hearing her sing while she takes a shower.
Lance’s words come back to mind. I haven’t gotten in a fight in a long time. My arrest record as of late is pretty clean, and even when it was active, it wasn’t for anything really serious, I guess. The car wreck wasn’t my fault, and I’ve only lost money a couple of times in poker in the past year. Both times to Walker. Fucking asshole.
Maybe there’s potential for me. A small amount, but possibly enough to work with. Enough to be in Hadley’s life in some way.
I peel my T-shirt off and study the ink on my arm. A new cluster of tattoos sits on the underside of my arm just on the side of the ridge of my bicep. They’re positioned so if look down, they’re what I see.
A rose for my mother lays longways. Just beneath it is a four-leaf clover with a little pink bow wrapped around the stem.
“Let it be,” I say to myself. “Just let it be.”
Rolling my eyes, knowing damn good and well I can’t do that, I head to the shower.
Twenty-Seven
Hadley
“He’s home,” I say to myself.
I’ve thought this idea to death. My stomach twists in excitement but tosses the opposite way toward anxiety as I pull my car in behind Machlan’s truck.
I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off last night after dinner at Nana’s. His truck was at Doc Burns’ this morning, presumably with Nana, and I warred with myself whether to call Machlan to check on her. I finally broke down during lunch with Emily and sent him a text.
Turning the car off, the grocery bags rattling in the back seat, I pick up my phone. His last text is still pulled up.
Machlan:Nana was ordered to take it easy for a few days. She’ll be okay. I’ll probably stay home for a while this evening if you get bored.