Page 10 of Before They Were Lovers

Too bad there were parts of God that had to stay buried to protect his sanity, to keep him moving forward and not getting trapped in his past.

Day began to rack the balls for another game.

“You won’t believe this one. I was working security at this strip mall during my junior year in college, and I caught this punk running a weird fight club behind the Chinese food restaurant.” Day laughed in that smooth cadence again. “I mean, they had the baby-oiled chests and all, wrestling around in the grass, straddling and bucking like wild broncs on top of each other. I was like, come on, y’all, no need for the pretenses. Just have a circle jerk and get it over with.”

God lifted one side of his mouth. “You’ve been through some weird shit, man.”

“You have no idea.”

Day flashed a wide grin after he sank three balls.

God took a long drink of his beer, his eyes sliding over the people at the bar to keep his focus off Day while he leaned over the table to break. As the night grew later, he found himself staring at his partner a little longer than necessary.

It wasn’t particularly the way Day looked, though he was undeniably damn good-looking. Lithe, muscular physique, sharp jaw, nice lips that spread around a great smile. Messy,dirty-blond hair that didn’t require a bunch of gel and products. The kind of man who turned heads even when he wasn’t trying.

Which was probably why the guy at the end of the bar kept glancing over, eyeing his partner’s ass like it was a goddamn rump roast.

God didn’t know what to think of it, but he knew he didn’t want that guy coming over and trying to shoot his shot. Day washispartner, and that meant…something.

Without thinking, God glared at the hungry stranger. The classic expression he’d perfected over the years—cold and intimidating—a look that made most people back off without question.

The older guy’s eyes widened before he was suddenly more interested in what was playing on the television over his head.

“Your shot.”

Day was standing right in front of him, smirking as he glanced over his shoulder, following God’s line of sight.

Damn.

He’d been hoping Day wouldn’t notice the guy, not to mention give him a chance. And God hated hope because she was a finicky bitch that never took pity on him.

The minutes blurred as they switched from pool to darts. Day was obviously tipsy, laughing louder with each story of his chaos and glory years, and God’s mood had loosened in a way it hadn’t before.

“All right, I’m about to fall asleep on my feet,” Day murmured as they made their way back to a booth. “I’m too drunk to drive. I’m gonna order some greasy pizza and down a few glasses of water, then maybe I can make it home.”

God just nodded, pushing himself off his stool with a bit more effort than he’d needed two hours ago. His mind was foggy as the room passed by in a hazy blur.

The cold hydration, combined with the gooey cheese from the pizza, cut through his system and began to sober him up.

“This was pretty cool. We should do it more often,” Day offered.

God draped his arms over the back of the bench, narrowing his eyes. “You’re not slick.”

“Oh, but I am. You’ll learn that eventually.” Day shoved some crust in his mouth. “I’ll get you talking one of these days, mark my words.”

Day was talking longevity, and again, hope bloomed in God’s chest, unwanted and foreign. For the first time in forever, God felt easier inside. The weight of his job, his life, didn’t feel so heavy.

They tossed some bills on the table with a sizable tip and left the bar.

The night air was nice against his warm skin. Before they parted ways, Day clamped him on the shoulder.

“See ya Monday, Godfrey.”

“Yep,” God said, his voice low. “See ya.”

God got in his truck and slammed the door closed. It only took a few minutes for that feeling of loneliness to return. But as he drove home, recalling some of Day’s wild stories, he had a barely there smile tugging at his lips.

God

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