Page 54 of His Last Shot
Not a problem. My arms will always be her safe space if that’s what she wants. Always.
Also, I’m pretty sure he is referring to her RA. And unlike her uncle, he respected her privacy and revealed nothing to me.
Point Randy.
Next is Tiny. “I see how you look at her. As if the sun rises and falls in her presence. If this continues into a life together, never stop looking at her that way. She deserves the sun.”
Tiny is a man of few words, but when he chooses them … man! He’s one hundred percent right. Rachel deserves not only the sun, but the moon, stars, the whole freaking galaxy. And I plan on expending all of my energies to give her that.
Slick rolls his glass of water in his hand, pondering his pearls of wisdom. “Got any advice for me, Slick?” I ask as I watch him intently. Rachel and Slick share a deep bond, making his opinion incredibly important to me.
He brings the glass to his lips, the cool water sliding down his throat as he finishes it. With a sigh, he sets the glass on the bar, the weight of his thoughts pressing on me as I wait. Micah refills it, giving him time to gather his thoughts. He breathes in slowly, his eyes narrowing as he regards me, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve watched Rachel grow up, and it was a sight to behold. She’s like the daughter I never had. I want her to be happy because God knows she deserves it.” He rests his hand on my shoulder. “So make her happy. Make her smile, not frown. Make her laugh, not cry. Let her love you, and don’t give her any reason to hate you. Ever. And please”—he pauses—“take care of her. All I want, more than anything, is for herto be happy.”
In reality, all I expected out of this conversation was some timely advice about a first date. But these men are giving me life advice. It’s almost as if they know that whatever this is between Rachel and me will become something permanent. And the love they have for her is indescribable. The three of them aren’t even her relatives. No blood relation. But sometimes, family isn’t always blood. It can be the people in your life who want nothing but the best for you. They cheer you on and love you in the process.
That’s the OBGs.
Tiny chimes back in. “Oh, and kiss the shi—”
“Language!” Slick and Randy yell out in unison.
“Gross,” Micah chides and disappears into the kitchen. A wave of laughter washes over us four.
“What?” Tiny asks while also rolling his eyes. “Every woman loves to be kissed within an inch of her life.”
Hopefully, on Saturday, I will get to do just that.
16
I Have to Wash My Hair
Rachel
The bar commotion, muffled and low, fills my ears as I count the cases of beer in the back room. It’s a typical Saturday here at Dexter’s. There’s no pool league play tonight, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t here to blow off steam after a long week of work.
Saturdays are usually nothing but chaos.
Normally, on our busiest day of the week, you can find me and Micah filling beers from the tap, tossing out glasses of whiskey, and making Long Islands (which are half off on Saturdays) with the other bartenders. All while attempting to keep the customers happy and the bar neat and tidy. It’s exhausting. Especially for someone like me.
But thankfully, I have the night off because of my date with Johnny.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach as I count and write totals on our inventory sheet. I hoped that coming in to do weekly counts would help keep my mind busy, but I was mistaken. This date and my nervousness have taken over my thoughts. But most importantly, how anxious I am to tell Johnny about my RA.
It’s time. If I want to pursue any kind of relationship with this man, I need to be honest and tell him about this deeply personal struggle.
And believe me, I have an entire speech planned. It’s epic and one I have practiced since I asked him out in his truck. For the last three days, I have stoodin front of the mirror in my bedroom, rehearsing my words while imagining him scooping me up in his arms and reassuring me he doesn’t care.
Out of habit, I rub the stiff spot on my elbow because, of course, my joints are especially angry with me today. It’s just plain old-fashioned stress.
This morning, I woke up with extreme soreness and my elbows seizing, the pain a sharp reminder of how my body works against me. Despite taking my usual dose of Tylenol, the throbbing ache won’t stop. My movements have been stiff and jerky all day, like a malfunctioning machine. So, as usual, I try my best to hide it. A truth I keep hidden to avoid judgement from others.
And obviously, being nervous about this date and the terror of talking to Johnny about everything are causing me not only to lose sleep but also to not eat. Which is a huge recipe for disaster.
Thankfully, I washed my hair last night, so I don’t need to worry about that. For most people, when they get into the shower, washing their hair is a task they don’t give a second thought to. They wash, rinse, and repeat, just like the shampoo bottle instructs.
But for me, when I’m having a flare-up, well, washing my hair is the largest task in the universe. It’s painful and borderline impossible, so there’s no repeating. If I manage one wash, I’m a happy girl.
Both Micah and Shelby help me wash it in the kitchen sink when they can. But tonight, Micah is here, and Shelby is visiting her family out of town. So, Smart Rachel thought ahead, and thankfully, I won’t have to worry about it tonight. I’ll just add some soft waves that, hopefully, Johnny will run his fingers through at some point.
