Page 45 of His Last Shot
She sheepishly tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Umm … no, actually, I didn’t. I just texted him that night and told him it was over and that I knew about the waitress. He tried to lie about it, but it was over.”
I tilt my head in confusion. Rachel is sassy, at least she plays the part of the sassy bartender. But the more I get to know her, the more something or someone dulls her light. Whatever it is or was has completely eroded her self-confidence, which I know she has deep inside. And it’s not just Drew. It’s her uncle, too.
Because why in the world would Dexter push her to reconcile with someone that hurt her so badly? He raised her, for crying out loud. Wouldn’t he want her to be happy with a man who treats her with respect and love? Mallory and Jake aren’t even my kids, and I want the world for them.
None of it makes sense.
She squares her shoulders and lifts her head, flashing me the biggest smile, signaling that she’s done reminiscing. “So, that’s the story of the one serious relationship in my life. I’ve sworn off all men since. At least for a while. Especially anyone older.”
Those last three words, spoken with such conviction, resonate in the air, leaving an almost tangible wave of energy in their wake. She’s making a point. Whether it’s to me or herself, I’m not sure.
A heavy stillness presses down around us. “Don’t let him make you think all men are the same, Rachel. There are some good guys out there.” Like me.
She shrugs, and a visible tremor runs through her chin, betraying her inner turmoil. She’s trying to pretend like this experience hasn’t had a profound effect on her. Plus, I wonder what details she’s leaving out. Like how her health factored into everything. I’m sure Drew knew.
“Well, from my experience, they are. Except for Micah, of course. And the OBG’s.” A hint of a smile shines through at the mention of them.
Just then, two of the smallest men who ever lived emerge from the back offices. Dexter has his arm slung over Drew’s shoulder as they laugh and carry on. Suddenly, a new nickname for this worthless piece of garbage flashes in my head.
The murmur of their conversation fades as they walk past me, heading to the tables. A flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps—passes across Dexter’s face as he glances back at me. More than likely wanting to know what Rachel and I were discussing. “Come on, Givens. You and your team are up.”
With a swift movement, I snatch my cue, its weight reassuring in my hand as it always is. Ice cubes clink in my glass as I toss back the rest of my drink. I place the glass on the bar with a little too much force, trying to keep my anger about this man in check. Rachel studies my every move, and somehow, her stare calmsme. “Are you ready to watch Drew Who? get the beating of his life?” I ask her, giving her a playful wink.
Her brow furrows as confusion washes over her face. “Wait … Drew Who?”
I smirk, waiting for her to get the joke. “Exactly.”
She gasps, her eyes widening as she snorts. She claps her hand over her mouth. “That’s good,” she says, understanding that Drew Who? deserves to be a question mark and an afterthought in her life.
I don’t turn my back until her gaze meets mine, making sure I have her full attention. “It’s time you have a new experience with a good and decent man, Rachel.” With a smile, I walk towards the table, her gaze burning into my back the entire way.
13
A Promising Touch
Johnny
Three hours later, we lie under a blanket, beneath the stars, silent. I didn’t invite her to come tonight, but somehow, she knew I would be here, waiting for her.
When she arrived, she said nothing. Only slid under the blanket and watched the sky.
Earlier at Dexter’s, once play started and for the next hour and a half, Drew Who? did nothing but rack the balls for me and my team, his anger blazing with every loss. Dexter observed the whole match and never looked disappointed, which tells me he knows better than to bet against me.
Turning my head to study her profile, I silently hope Rachel will bet on us.
And her deciding to come here tonight … well … it’s a start.
A shooting star zooms across the sky above, capturing my attention as her finger lightly grazes mine under the blanket.
My heart stops.
For the next hour, we lie side-by-side, our hands brushing occasionally as we gaze at the glittering stars, the night air a silent witness to our unspoken connection.
And a surprise touch that feels more promising than any that came before.
14
You Belong with Me
