Page 129 of Resisting Isaac
Her gaze skitters away from me. “Yeah. I do. Feel free to go back to screwing whatever tourist catches your eye. Actually, that would make everything easier and our eventual public breakup that much more believable.”
Her words are a whip across the face. Honestly, I’d prefer that.
“Maybe I’m not that guy anymore.”
She shrugs and huffs out a breath. “Maybe I don’t care either way.”
Damn, that stings.
I watch her go inside, and just stare at the closed door. Then say fuck this, because whatever that was, I didn’t see it coming this time.
Maybe her family is right and I’m just a dumb cowboy who refuses to accept the truth.
By the timeI hit The Stillery, the crowd is thinning out.
Mick O’Malley raises a brow when I slump onto a barstool. “So, how’s married life?”
Word gets around quickly in a small town. I’d say good news travels fast but it’s not feeling too good.
“Overrated,” I mutter, then order a shot of whiskey. He’s already got it in front of me when I look up.
It goes down like liquid fire. But I’m okay with the burn. Better than the pain of watching her shut down on me, then shut me completely out.
I get it. It’s a lot to ask her to put all her chips in and bet on me. I don’t even know what I have to offer.
I’m on my third pour, elbows planted on the bar, forehead heavy in my palm. Mick slides another glass toward me without asking.
Old habits. New pain.
“Thanks,” I say. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, Mick.”
He and my dad were Navy buddies and he’d always been there for us kids since Dad passed.
“Might have to figure it out soon, son. Place might not be here much longer,” he mutters, wiping down the counter with a rag that’s seen better days.
I look up. “What’re you talking about?”
“Gettin’ harder to keep the lights on. Wild Coyote draws more tourists. No as much interest in an old-fashioned cowboy bar these days. And I’m not getting any younger.” He shrugs like it doesn’t gut him, but I know this place is all he has. “Might be time to let go soon.”
I stare at the wall of bottles, unfocused. “This bar raised half of us.”
“Doesn’t mean I can afford to keep her. Don’t have anyone in my family interested in taking over.”
That’s just the icing on the shitcake of today.
The door swings open behind me. I hear familiar voices calling out in raucous laughter.
“Holy shit, do my eyes deceive me, or is that Isaac Logan?”
Beau’s voice carries across the bar.
Brett’s joins in soon after. “Well, well. Look who finally returned to the land of fun. Thought we’d lost you to the other side.”
They sidle up to the bar, taking the empty stools on either side of me.
Brett nods to my shot glasses. “Three drinks deep. Looks like we have some catching up to do, Beau.”
I don’t say anything. Just motion to Mick for another.
