Page 31 of Holly Ever After

I shake my head, as if physically dismissing my concerns could also shake them from my mind. “It's not my problem,” I mutter to myself, picking up the last of my tools.

“Hey, Sean,” Mike calls out, one of my crew. “We're heading to Molly’s for a drink. You in? You look like you could use one.”

“Or two,” adds Dave, flashing a grin. “It's Friday, man. Work here is done. Time to celebrate a little, eh? It’s Christmas.”

I hesitate for a moment. Holly's face, her words, that unshed tear—they all flash before my eyes. But then I push it all aside. She's not my responsibility. And they're right; it's been a long week, and God knows I could use a drink.

I grab my jacket. “Let's go.”

As we walk out, locking up behind us, I take one last look at the house. It’s finished, but as I climb into my truck and we head toward the bar, I can't shake the feeling that some things are still very much unfinished. And for the life of me, I can't decide whether that's a good thing or not.

∞∞∞

The moment we step into Molly’s Bar, I'm hit with the warm, familiar scent of aged wood and spilled beer.

We grab stools at the bar, and I give a nod to the owner, Archer, who is busy slinging drinks.

I don’t even have to tell him what we want. He’s already reaching for the glasses.

Mike takes a long gulp of his beer when Archer sets it down on the counter. “So, you're all quiet tonight, man. What's up? Woman trouble?”

I snort, shifting in my seat. “What makes you think it's about a woman?”

“Come on, it's always about a woman,” Dave chimes in, grinning over his own pint. “Either you've got one that's driving you crazy, or you're coming up with a plan on how to get rid of one.”

Mike nods in agreement. “Exactly.”

I roll my eyes, taking another sip of beer to buy myself a minute. “You two sound like a pair of fucking agony aunts.”

Dave laughs, loud enough to catch the attention of a few others at the bar. “Hey, sometimes, a man's gotta vent. You've been wound up tighter than a drum lately.” They both share a conspiratorial look and smirk. “You know, the last time you got this tense, Holly was back in town.”

“Bullshit,” I sputter.

“She winding you up, big man?” Mike chimes in, nudging me.

“Fuck off, Mike, unless you want to get acquainted with my fist.”

He sucks in a breath, holding back his laugh. “Defensive.”

“Fired,” I shoot back.

“Someone’s a little touchy.”

“Again, fuck—”

“I don't write porn... or maybe I do. So what? You know what, sir…”

My eyes dart toward another voice getting louder with every word.

And there she is.

Holly, perched on a stool, beer in hand, schooling two men I recognize as Jeff and Ace—local mechanics and members of The Kingsmen motorcycle club. That doesn’t seem to faze her in the slightest. They're sitting awkwardly on their stools, not sure whether to laugh or listen intently. Her laptop is open in front of her; obviously, she didn't go to the café like she told me.

She digs into her bag and slides a copy of her own book across the counter to Jeff. “Read this. Your wife will thank you.”

Jeff and Ace puff out their chests, smug expressions painting their faces. “We know how to please a woman just fine, thank you very much.”

Holly tilts her head, looking at them like they're two lost puppies. She pats each of them on the chest and says, “Oh, of course you do. But do me a favor? Read it anyway. You might be able to put away the GPS in order to find a woman’s clitoris.”

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