Page 13 of His Last Shot
He regards me. “Who hurt you, Rachel? Or what?”
My head whips around, our eyes meeting with an intensity that stills my breathing. “How can you tell I’ve been hurt?”
“It’s in your eyes. You are closed off, afraid to open up to anyone. I’m guessing either someone hurt you or something else is going on. A secret that you hold close to your chest.”
He’s right. On both accounts. But I’m not about to tell this stranger about my RA. So, I guess I’ll tell him about Sean and Drew.
“Two people, actually. My high school boyfriend dumped me. He was a loser, obviously. But then there was Drew, and we were engaged. I met him at the bar, and he was ten years older than me. He decided, out of the blue, that I wasn’t the girl for him. So, he let me know this by cheating on me. End of story.”
His jaw tenses as his nostrils flare. “What a spineless jerk.”
“My uncle pushes me to reconcile with him. I know that’s what Drew wants.” I shrug, void of all hope. Those words sealing my fate.
“Would you? Go back to him?” I’m staring above. He’s staring at me.
“No, never. But it’s hard, sometimes, to say no to my uncle.” And it is. It always is. He has this control that looms large over me. I owe him a debt.
“What about your parents? What do they think of Drew?”
“My parents died in a house fire when I was nine.” The confession tumbles out, a torrent of words I can’t believe I’m unleashing.
“Jesus.” A crease forms on his brow as he stares at me, completely engrossed. Somehow, our feet brush under the blanket, steeling my breath.
I pause before I continue. “Uncle Dexter was my mom’s brother. He took in both my brother and me and raised us. I grew up at the bar. It’s all I’ve ever known.”
“You’ve never wanted to do anything else? I mean, if bartending is your thing, more power to ya. But if I’m readingyouright”—I bristle at his assessment, full of truth—“then I’m guessing bartending isn’t what you want to do with the rest of your life.”
“You don’t know me,” defiance fills my reply.
“You’re right, I don’t. But if tending bar was your dream, your face would light up when you mention it. And it doesn’t.”
He’s right. And since I am here now, under the stars with a perfect stranger, I should just be honest. I have no idea if I will ever see him again, so confiding in him is easy.
My hidden secret spills out. “I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.”
“There ya go!” He nudges me in the ribs with his elbow, making me chuckle. “My cousin’s wife is a nurse. She loves it. Why not pursue it? You’re young. It’s never too late to go to school.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why can’t it be?”
I sigh. “My uncle needs me.”
“Oh, come on. I was there for the reno. I know what he put down on that place. And with the tournaments that he wants to host, he is making money. He can hire anyone to fill whiskey glasses and hand out bottlenecks.”
“He likes for me to be close.”
He pauses, confused. “That’s … odd.” He’s right, it is odd. My uncle keeps tabs on me, and he cares, in his own weird way.
“Maybe. But he trusts Micah and me. Family means everything to him. Plus, he takes care of me.” I have no clue why I’m defending him. My uncle pays for everything when it comes to my RA. All my meds, the doctor’s visits, the therapy. All of it. It’s like I’m a slave to him and Dexter’s.
Suddenly, anger flares in my chest at the reminder that my life isn’t really mine, and now this conversation is pissing me off. So I need to redirect this off of me … like, now. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you always wanted to hammer in nails while drinking coffee?”
He laughs. “Well, the no alcohol thing is because of a minor incident in Daytona in my twenties that I never speak of. So coffee became my addiction. The sugarier and fancier the coffee is the better. And as for building things … well, I love it. I’ll build anything. I built my home, my pool table, the swing that hangs on my front porch. Give me a hammer and some nails, and I am a happy man.”
