Page 10 of Salvation

He reaches forward to ruffle her hair before shooting me a wink and spinning around to return to the kitchen.

“Thanks, Ben.” She hollers back, and she gets a wave of his hand in return before smirking at me as she pops a fry into her mouth. “I’m his favorite, you know that, right?”

I roll my eyes. “The whole town knows it.”

I reach forward and snatch her burger from the plate before taking a ridiculously large bite out of it. “Hey!” She smacks my hand, which only causes me to laugh in return.

“Now hurry up, I want ice cream after this.” I grin through a mouthful.

She rolls her eyes, throwing a fry at me. “You’re so gross.” But a small smile curves the corners of her lips, and she picks up the flashcards she made. “Okay, so…”

***

My eyes are locked on the booth in the corner of my bar. The table that Blake and I always sat at on the days we’d hang out here. Its once spotless green seats are now worn, and the tabletop showcases marks that have accumulated over the years. It’s the only seat in this bar that I haven’t replaced. Everything else is pristine and up to date, but not that booth. I turn away, no longer able to stomach the memories we made there. It was her favorite because we could see the entire bar from that corner. She loved to people-watch, and once we deemed it our spot in the bar, nobody else touched it. It’s not a seat many people would choose for comfort, anyway.

The sight of Blake walking away from me outside of the bar irritated me more than it probably should have. Regardless of what she said, I could see how uncomfortable she was once she saw the bar, and I can’t say I’m surprised she tucked her tail and ran. It seems to be a habit of hers. A part of me is glad she didn’t come in, so I didn’t have to share this space with her again. Another part wishes I would have thrown her over my shoulder and dragged her in. I can’t help but wonder if her memories from this place plague her just as much as they plague me.

“Hey, Boss.” Harper, one of my employees, greets as she walks out from the back. My best employee. Always showing up on time, picking up extra shifts, or staying late when we need it. She came to town out of the blue last year and came in to ask if we were hiring, bags still in hand. I don’t know much about her story save for the fact that she’s saving for college and obviously on the run from something. As much as I’ve grown to care for her, it’s not my business to pry. She’ll talk when she’s ready.

And as much as I’d like to hide away in my office, I give myself a few beats of silence to reign in my off-kilter demeanor. She doesn’t need that shit from me, especially not in her workplace. “Harper.” I flash her a grin as I set my keys on the bar top. It feels forced. “Closing go okay last night?”

“Aside from Haden’s usual habits? Just fine.” She lays down the rag she’s using to polish some of the glasses and faces me with hands on her hips. Her southern accent is thick as she says, “I think you should hire him.”

My eyebrows shoot up, and I can do little to hide my shock. Haden is an old friend and a retired war hero. He’s the town flirt, to put it lightly. Mix that with a bit of a drinking habit, a short fuse, and a loudmouth, and he’s a downright grade-A troublemaker. It’s gotten him more busted lips than I can count on my two hands. Granted, he’s been through a lot, so I tend to cut him some slack when he’s in my bar. He’s respectful, just an asshole to the assholes that tend to roll in when passing through town, and a sleaze to anything that has boobs.

“Hire him?” I ask, making sure I heard her correctly. Most of the time, she can’t stand him. Although he seems to have an unusually soft spot for my bartender.

“He needs a job. A purpose. I think it’d do him some good. Plus, Tim quit last night, so we’re shorthanded.” With that, she hands me what I assume is Tim’s letter of resignation. I curse. The bastard never could hold a job. I knew that when I hired him, so I suppose that one’s on me.

“Yup. So? Haden?” she pushes.

“I’ll think about it.” She gives me a stern look. “Fine.” I raise my hands in mock surrender. “Fine.I’ll talk to him tonight. Deal?”

“Deal. Now, what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Excuse me?” I’m so taken aback by the sharp turn in conversation that I have no idea what else to say.

The door to the bar dings as someone walks in, but I don’t bother turning as Harper greets them with a wicked smile. I have a feeling I know exactly who it is. Harper turns her attention back to me. “You’re pissed off about something.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I say, “No. I’m not.” My brother chooses that moment to cut into our conversation. A teasing tone that makes me grit my teeth in annoyance. “Sure it’s got nothing to do with a pretty blonde who’s made her way back into town?”

“Ah. Dear mom told you before she told me, huh?” I don’t hide my irritated tone, knowing damn well it’s something my mother would do.

“Nope. Just saw her at Bell's.” he says, staring at me, but I don’t give him anything else. There's nothing I can say. I should have known she’d try to see Whitney first thing. She’s adored her since they were kids.

“Wanna talk about it?” Wyatt presses.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I respond firmly, wanting this conversation to end. Blake and I have a complicated history. Our mothers are best friends and had us so close together that we had no choice but to grow up side-by-side. From preschool to kindergarten, all the way to high school. We were two peas in a pod. Granted, once we hit puberty, the way we interacted changed. The way we viewed each other changed. Of course, we dated other people, and we acted like we hated each other when others were around, but there was always this understanding that something more laid beneath all those years of friendship. We understood each other in a way nobody else did. We both felt it. Or I thoughtwe did. Until she turned eighteen and left this town and my life quicker than she came into it. And when she left, she took a piece of me with her. One that I’m not sure I’ll ever get back or ever give freely to someone again if I do.

“He’s lying.” Wyatt, Harper, and even Mr. Sander’s sitting at the end with a coffee in his hand, all say at the exact same time. Disbelief covers my features. What the fuck is this? An Intervention? She’s been in town for less than 48 hours.

“Refill, Mr. Sanders?” Harper chirps, turning around to grab the pot of coffee from where it sits on the counter. “Yes, ma’am.” I choose then to tune out the rest of their conversation and turn back to Wyatt, who’s staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I sigh, knowing he’s not going to let this go.

“Why is she back?” He asks.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

He swings back behind the bar before grabbing two bottles of wine from the shelf. “You hate red.” I point out.

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