Page 90 of The Thought of You

I cross the scuffed and scratched hardwood floor, the marks evidence of years of local patronage, and I reach the bar as screeching bursts from the stage, where Matilda and Hunter set up the microphone.

It’s karaoke night—a Sunday night tradition around here. I’ve frequented plenty of them since I moved back to Sapphire Creek, and they’ve mostly been the same. After the weekend I’ve had, though, this one feels different, and we haven’t even started.

I’m lighter than I have been in a while, and it’s all thanks to Addie.

A fucking feather isn’t as light as me, and it’s not just because my balls have finally regained their natural color from the chokehold one woman had me in last week.

It’s because Addie allowed me the space to open up.

I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to before she asked me to tell her about myself. It’s crazy to think of all the years we’ve known each other, and yet, Friday night felt like we were meeting each other for the first time.

It was special and freeing.

I dropped the funny-guy mask and was honest with someone for what might’ve been the first time since I cracked my first joke at seven—my origin story.

The goofy-as-hell joke I told back then got the entire dinner table howling with laughter. Even Whitney, who was only six months old at the time, released a squeal.

The joke wasn’t even one I’d made up myself. A kid in my class had told it. I didn’t know I’d remembered it until it fell out of my mouth, along with a few bites of mac and cheese. I followed it up by hiding Mom’s reading glasses later that night, and the rest was history.

Until Addie.

She brings out a whole new side of me.

“If I have what Owen’s having, will it put the same dopey grin on my face?” Nate slides onto the stool next to me, and he and Cole share a laugh.

I don’t even remember sitting down or ordering a drink, but a full beer sits in front of me like it appeared through pure magic. I’m in serious fucking trouble here.

“What’s going on, dopey?” Cole asks as he fills a frosted mug up with Michelob for Nate. “What deal did you make with the dirty Devil to be this chummy?”

“I’m always happy,” I say.

“Happy, yes. Chummy, no.” Nate wraps his hand around the mug and points it at me. “What’s up, Chummy McGee?”

I turn between my two friends, who both stare expectantly at me. Cole even leans over the bar onto his elbows like he has all the time in the world for me to share my filthy secrets, but in reality, he has customers slowly occupying every seat along the bar.

Karaoke night is definitely popular in this town. There’s not much else to do around here, especially not on a Sunday, as most businesses and shops close on this holy day.

I slide my fingers through the dew on my mug and grin. “I had?—”

The truth instantly dissipates on my tongue.

“We have to keep this a secret.”

Addie and I agreed not to tell anyone about us. Does that include our closest friends? Has she told Maren or Caroline? Knowing her, she’s taken her oath extra seriously. She probably wouldn’t even tell Pastor Eugene if he asked.

In any case, I promised her I wouldn’t share what’s happening between us, and my word means everything, even if it requires me to lie to my best friends.

“I’ve been drinking all afternoon, and I’m already buzzed.” I tilt my beer toward them. “Wild what some bourbon can do to a guy’s mood.”

“That’s what you’re going with—bourbon?” Nate lifts a brow.

Cole squints. “I don’t buy it. You’re hiding something.”

“I bet he’s hiding a cartoon puppy inside him. There’s no other explanation than this is not really our very own Owen.”

Cole throws his hands up. “God, how it all makes sense now. Your puppy heart is the reason you slobber over every meal and wolf down meat like it’s from the last cow on earth.”

“Also explains why it took him so long to be potty trained.” Nate straightens up and places a coaster under his mug. They got new ones around here, and I think Nate’s the only one actually who uses them at the bar.

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