Page 95 of Broken on the Mountain
Helps that the tavern is packed tonight.
Even Betty's here. She's claimed a booth with Etta and Mabel, the three of them hunched over what looks like wedding planning materials, which can only mean some poor soul in town is about to get ambushed with unsolicited advice.
The young kid, Sam's behind the bar with Charlie, learning to mix cocktails with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for defusing bombs.
The kid's gotten good. Charlie's teaching him well.
The smell of slow-roasted brisket and caramelized onions wafts in from the kitchen, tonight's special dish mingling with the woodsmoke and the ever-present smell of vanilla-bourbon, or whatever craft beer Charlie's pushing this week.
I line up my next throw.
"So." Knox releases his dart. It hits the outer ring. "You gonna talk about it, or we doing the strong, silent suffering thing all night?"
"What's there to talk about?"
"Oh, I don't know." Travis wipes burger grease from his chin. "How about the fact that you've been moping around like someone kicked your puppy for the last five days?"
I throw my dart and hitBullseyeagain.
Knox swears under his breath.
"I'm not moping."
"You're absolutely moping," Jamie says, appearing at my elbow with a beer I didn't ask for.
He sets it on the high-top table beside the dartboard and gives me that look. The one that says he sees right through my bullshit but he's going to let me keep pretending for now.
"Appreciate the support, boss."
"Just calling it like I see it." Jamie leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching Knox's next throw go completely wide. "You've run every extra shift I've offered, volunteered for inventory twice, and reorganized the entire supply closet by expiration date."
"You said that needed doing."
"It really didn't. It was a test to see how mopey you were."
Travis snorts into his beer.
Fuck.
Have I really been that bad this week? I thought I'd been doing a good job hiding it all. Keeping it bottled up like I'm used to doing.
It's been five days since I watched Piper walk into the terminal without looking back. Five days since I stood in the departures lane like an idiot, hoping she'd turn around and tell me I'm right, and that she'll stay.
But… she didn't.
I throw the dart and it hits just left of center. My first miss all night.
"There we go," Knox says triumphantly. "Proof you're human after all."
Charlie shuffles over beside our table like some kind of flannel-wearing wizard, appearing out of nowhere and setting down a tray of loaded nachos that smell incredible.
The cheese is still bubbling, jalapeños scattered across the top like little green landmines, with dollops of sour cream and guacamole that looks homemade. Charlie doesn't do anything halfway.
"Gentlemen." He slides the tray into the center of the table. "You looked like you needed sustenance."
"We didn't order anything," I grunt.
"I know what you need better than you do." Charlie winks and disappears back toward the bar, where Sam's attempting to flip a cocktail shaker and nearly brains himself with it.
