Page 1 of Mr. Broody

One

Jade

“Here you go,” Joel, my Uber driver, says, pulling along the curb.

I glance out the window at the bar called Peeper’s Alley, but quickly my vision diverts to a giant cardboard sign on the security gate on the side of the building. “The Nest” is written in girly script with a black marker, and a bunch of notes are scattered around it.

You’ve got to be kidding me. How convenient that the bar just happens to be on the bottom of the four-story building where Henry lives. Someone has set me up, and I’m pretty sure I know who the responsible party is.

“If you see any Falcons in there, tell them to get their asses to bed,” Joel says.

Two things I learned about Joel on the ride from my childhood home to this north side bar—he loves the city of Chicago and their hockey team, the Falcons. That, and he doesn’t think the Falcons get enough love from Chicago fans and knows in his gut that the Cup is theirs to win this year. It will really piss him off when all the bandwagoners start wearing Falcons jerseys around the city. I already know he’s miffed that their center, Rowan Landry, has a serious girlfriend, and according to Joel, that’s never a good thing.

What Joel doesn’t know is that I love the Falcons too, but I haven’t watched one of their games in years. Primarily because my ex plays right wing for them, and it’s too painful to see him.

“Thanks.” I climb out of the Uber sedan, and my gaze shifts left once more. Henry could be steps away from me, up in his condo with his son, clueless that we’re sharing space in the same city.

I really shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here, but when Chelsea, Aubrie’s mom, asked me to come to her birthday celebration, I felt bad saying no since I’ve missed the last eight. She’s worried Aubrie will go crazy on her twenty-first and wants me to make sure nothing bad happens to her. Chelsea has always been overprotective of her only child. Mom gave me her best guilt trip look, and here I am. I really should’ve asked for more details before I agreed.

Everything inside me says to turn around and flag down Joel before he picks up another passenger, but eventually, I’ll have to rip off the bandage no matter how many layers of skin the adhesive takes along with it.

I square my shoulders. I can do this. I mean, he has a six-year-old son who is surely already in bed. And he’s not the type who would leave his child sleeping in the condo and come down to the bar to drink.

The minute I step inside, I notice this isn’t the type of bar I thought the Falcons would hang around. The music isn’t loud, but classic rock plays as background noise over the crowd. People are huddled around high-top tables, laughing with one another, and there’s a row of stools along the bar filled with older gentlemen who have eyes on the televisions above their heads.

The walls are covered in Falcons paraphernalia, and my gut twists when I see Henry’s jersey hanging there. It’s framed with his familiar scribbled signature next to his last name stitched on the back.

What am I doing? This is the worst idea ever. Then I remember my twenty-first birthday, and yeah, I kind of understand Chelsea’s concern.

“Jade!”

I glance around the room, finding Aubrie raising her hand in the back corner, sitting at a table full of girls. No Henry, thank goodness. I smile and weave through the packed tables, and she wraps her arms around me the second I reach her.

“I’ve missed you.” Aubrie is one of those tight huggers. Like squeeze-the-breath-out-of-you huggers.

“Missed you too,” I say, patting her back and hoping she ends the hug. But she sways us right and left instead of releasing me. “Happy birthday.”

She lets me go, and I try to find my footing, but she’s already moved on to introducing me to her friends. “This is Jade. Our moms are best friends. She doesn’t live in Chicago anymore though. She’s been off traveling the world.” She glances at me. “I guess our dads are friends too, huh?”

“Stepdad, but yeah.” I’m not sure why I bothered to clarify. It doesn’t really matter. But technically my dad lives in Los Angeles, and my stepdad is her dad’s best friend. It feels wrong not to mention that Reed is my stepdad even though he had a huge hand in raising me.

She introduces me to her friends, and I slide a chair out from the table, joining them. They’re so young. Not that I’m a senior citizen or anything with my quick approach to thirty, but I forgot what it’s like to feel as though time is infinite and your exciting new life is on the horizon, brimming with possibilities.

A waitress comes by and places a seltzer in front of me, walking away. I do love my seltzers, but I’m gonna need something a tad more potent to get through tonight.

“Excuse me,” I call.

“Watch it. She’s not friendly,” one of the girls says.

The older red-haired woman stops but doesn’t spin back around at first. Instead, she purposely lets me know I’m putting her out by slowly circling back, huffing, and staring at me with exhaustion lining her expression. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, but can I get a whiskey instead? Neat.”

“Go, Jade. We should all get one.” Aubrie’s gaze bounces around the table to her friends, who each raise their girly drinks to their mouths.

There’s nothing wrong with seltzers, and most girls’ nights out, I’d choose the same drinks they’re having. But my ex is probably relaxing on his couch a floor or two above me, his large, hot body sprawled out watching the sports channel. And he’s not just any ex. He’s THE EX. So, whiskey it is.

“Really?” The woman’s gaze coasts down my body and back up. “Come on over to the bar then.” She turns around.

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