Page 7 of Finn

He sees me and nods.

I nod back.

Though I don’t think the frat boys recognized me, Evan knows pretty much all of us Thunder players from the times we’ve been in. Well, that and he’s also a big hockey fan.

He says a few words to me before he lets Sammie know he’s taking off for the night.

“If you’re cool with locking up,” he tells her, “you guys can stay as long as you like.”

Sammie replies, “No problem. I can do that.”

Evan turns his attention back to me, but before he can even ask, as I know what he’s about to say, I hold up my hand and tell him, “Don’t worry. I’ll walk her out and make sure she gets to her car safely.”

He raps the bar twice. “Cool. Thanks, man.”

Once Evan is gone, Sammie walks over and locks the doors behind him.

When she returns to the bar, she pours herself a draft, the same light lager as mine.

Taking a seat on the stool next to me, she sighs and says, “I think I deserve a beer after this long-ass day and night.”

“Was it all bad?” I ask. “What’d you do, work dinner and tend bar?”

She nods as she takes a sip of her beer, her high ponytail bouncing.

Setting the glass down on the bar, she says, “I actually worked lunch, dinner, and picked up our usual bartender’s shift when he called in sick.”

“Damn, woman.” I shake my head. “That’s a lot of hours.”

“It is,” she confirms. “I was lucky, though. I had a long enough break between dinner and the bartending shift that I was able to run home, shower, and change into a clean uniform. It was like starting a whole new day.”

“It still sounds hectic,” I murmur as I lift my glass to take a drink.

She shrugs. “Yeah, but it kept me busy”—she lowers her voice to a near whisper—“which was kind of my goal today.”

I set my glass down and take a long look at her. It’s clear from how she’s now biting her lip that she just said more than she intended.

Still, I ask, “Any particular reason why you wanted to keep busy today?”

If she needs to talk about something, I want her to know I’ll listen.

But she shakes her head and says, “No.”

Sammie then smiles over at me, but there’s sadness in her pretty emerald eyes. This has nothing to do with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. No, this runs deeper.

Unfortunately, though, for as much as we know each other, it’s really only as acquaintances. I wish we were close friends, or really even more, but we’re not.

So I won’t press her on what’s really bothering her.

I do have an idea, though.

I don’t want to keep Sammie here in this place where she’s already spent too much time.

But I’d like to hang out with her a while longer.

So, finishing off my draft, I set the glass down with a clink and say, “Hey, do you want to get out of here?”

Sammie

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