Page 31 of Warrior's Walk

I turn my chair toward the water so the cum rinses away under the hard spray and push to my feet, leaning on the back of the chair for support. To be honest, slipping in the shower scares the fuck outta me. Not only would I further damage my leg and set back my recovery, but who the fuck would help me up?

Of course, my phone starts ringing before I’m even out of the stall. I lunge for it, dripping wet and wobbly. “Hello?”

“Hey, ball buddy,” Mandy’s deep voice rumbles.

“I told you not to call me that, especially when I’m naked and wet.”

“Huh? Why are you answering the phone when you’re naked? I won’t even ask about the wet part.”

“Cause it was ringin’, dickcheese!”

“Whatever. You wanna come with? Me and the guys are heading to the Black Mountain Tavern.”

“Uh, I think that’s the place Liza told me to apply to. So, yeah, I’ll come. I gotta find a job.”

“Great! Leaving in twenty.”

Exactly twenty minutes later, Mandy knocks on my front door. I’m not in a great hurry to answer it considering I’ve got my leg propped up on my bed trying to refasten my soft cast around my jeans. It has so many moving parts andVelcrostraps; you need a degree in rocket science to figure it out. He pounds again, this time much louder.

“Alright, damn! Keep your fuckin’ boots on. I’m comin’.” Slowly, I make my way to the door and there’s Mandy, casually leaning against the door frame as if he hadn’t just tried to beat the damn thing down.

He grins. “You ready?”

My eyes roll. “You’re annoyin’, you know that?”

Mandy chuckles, unaffected, and steps past me. “What do we need? Crutches? Keys? Did you take your meds? You know, there’re some meds that don’t react well with alcohol. Are you taking any of those?”

“What are you, my mama? Don’t worry about what I’m takin’.”

He flushes deep red. “Just trying to look after you.”

This guy takes his job as my ball buddy deadly seriously, which is kinda sweet—kinda—except that it’s annoying.

Mandy drives and I fidget the entire way. I’ve met the guys, and they seemed alright or whatever, but this is different than sitting beside them in group and listening to them bitch. This is hanging out one-on-one, this is intimate. They’ll ask questions, try to get to know me, and the last thing I want is to make new friends.

I have friends… well, had. Who knows if they’ll still keep in touch now that I’m gone.Biddell’s gone.

Friendsleave.

Friendshurt.

Friends aren’t alwaysforever.

New friends just means new grief. God knows I’ve got plenty, I don’t need more.

Mandy glances over. “Quit biting your nails. You’ll make them bleed.”

It’s a metaphor for my life. Fate keeps picking at the scab on my grief until it bleeds and bleeds. Until it stains everything.

The Black Mountain Tavern has a good vibe—with a stone and wood façade. The theme carries inside with rustic wood beams overhead, a wood floor, and brick walls. The long bartop extends the entire length of the right side and the left has groupings of tables and chairs. Booths line the back wall, and there’s a dance floor in the middle. The live band sets up on the small stage beside the front door.

We’re the last to arrive. The guys wave us over to a long table. It looks like they shoved three together to fit us all.

I spot the lineup of usual suspects I remember from group. West and Brandt, Stiles and McCormick, Jax and Nash, with the addition of two guys I don’t recognize. One of them is with Nash and the other has wavy dark hair pulled into a ponytail, his amber highlights glinting under the bar lights. His golden eyes say, ‘don’t fuck with me,’ and because his shoulders are three times the width of mine, I don’t.

The one face I don’t see is Riggs’s.

The disappointment stings.

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