Page 48 of Return To You

“Switchback. Please.” Then Colton turns to me. “What you been up to?”

I smile. “Believe it or not, I coached the Varsity preseason camp.”

“No way. Good for you.” He stays quiet for a couple of beats, watching Justin draft his beer. Doesn’t bring up his young employee, Tracy. Or his sister. “D’you like it?” he finally asks.

I push my empty pint glass toward Justin so he gets me a refill. “Kids were great.” Your sister, not so much. But I can’t tell him that.

“How’s Grace doing?” Justin asks Colton. “Haven’t seen her here in a while.”

Colton shakes his head. “No idea.”

“Wasn’t she giving massages to some kid at camp?” Justin’s not gonna let go, is he?

Colton and he exchange a look. Colton gives him an I dunno shrug.

“Yup,” I drop. “To Tracy. Got injured.”

“I had no idea,” Colton says, seeming genuinely surprised. “Grace tell you?” he asks Justin.

Justin gives me a pointed look. “Nope. Millie.” His smirk drips to his whole body, and he leans back, crosses his arms, clearly enjoying the power he thinks he has over me. “Heard you got Grace a special order every day. Delivered too. How’d that work out for you?”

I look away and finish my beer. Slam it on the counter. “Another.”

Justin glances outside. “Not if you’re riding your bike tonight.”

Colton wiggles his fingers at me. “Keys.” Then, to Justin, “This one’s on me.”

I feel like getting into a good bar fight, the kind that’ll send teeth flying and bodies slamming into solid furniture.

The kind that will knock the lights out of me for long enough that when I come to, I won’t even remember why the hell I wanted that.

“Come on, man.”

“What the hell, I’m too old for this shit.” I hand him the keys, and we get lost in silence as more and more people fill the bar and some sort of karaoke starts.

“Too old, huh?” Colton says, picking up like we were just talking minutes ago. I’m on beer three or four. Colton switched to soft drinks a while back. I might move onto bourbon if the anger in my gut doesn’t fucking go away.

My answer is slurred. “You happy with your life?”

“For the most part. My own boss. Decent money.”

“What about the rest?”

He shrugs. “Get lucky when I need to.”

I grunt—I can see the appeal. “I’ll drink to that.”

Colton stands, gets behind the bar, and fills two tall glasses with water. Pushes one in front of me and downs the other, standing. Taking his place back on the stool, he says, “You know, women, they want you to want them.”

I eye him sideways.

“And they’re not much into drunks." He downs his glass of water. "Come on, let’s get you home.” He stands, and I follow him.

“I’m not a drunk,” I say as I slump into his passenger seat.

He pulls out. “You won’t be. Not under my watch. Or under Justin’s. Or under anyone else's who gives a shit.”

We ride in silence, his headlights illuminating the trees bordering the dark road that leads to King Knoll’s Farm.

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