chapterthree
Bellamy
Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
What the hell did I just do?
My throat feels thick and my head is pounding at a rate that matches the speed of my heart. Surely there is some kind of rewind button, backspace or erase or delete orsomethingI can hit to go back to five minutes ago before I said the most stupid, idiotic thing I’ve ever said in my life.
Holy fucking shit.
“Really? Well, that’s…” Connor clears his throat, his eyes glancing between the two of us. “…great. For both of you.”
“Thanks, Pruitt.”
Rusty sounds so calm, as if I didn’t just pull the rug out from under him in the most asinine way.
“Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag, how about we double-date soon? We’re gonna be here in town for the summer, and I’m sure Stace would love to get to know you both.”
Before I can even think about how to respond, Rusty is speaking again. “Sounds great.”
Connor raises his beer glass to us both then heads off toward the back deck that faces out to the water, where I can see Stace standing at a high top table looking out into the distance.
I look back at Rusty, and I’ll be honest, he looks a lot more chill about this than I would have ever imagined. He steeples his hands and rests his chin against his fingers, letting out a long, slow breath, his eyes staring at the wall behind me.
“Rusty, I’m so sorry. It just…came out of me. I wasn’t even thinking.”
“No, you weren’t,” he says, lifting his barely touched glass of whiskey. “But neither was I.”
He downs the entire thing. I can only imagine how much it burns.
“Hey man, sorry I’m late.” Andy Marshall hops up onto the stool Connor just vacated, a smile on his face. “Had an issue with the front door lock and had to wait for Gene to come help me sort it.”
Rusty nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Can I get the Cedar Cider IPA?”
I drag my eyes from Rusty and look at Andy, giving him a thin smile and nodding. “Sure. Just a sec.”
I spin around and take a deep breath. I still have a shift to work, so I take a few seconds, trying to push away any thoughts about what just happened, then grab a pint glass. I turn back to the bar with a new smile, pull the beer from the tap, and set it in front of Andy on a coaster.
“Have you wished this guy a happy 32nd birthday yet?” Andy asks, flicking a thumb at Rusty.
Surprise spreads through me. “Today’s your birthday?” I ask him.
“Nah, it was yesterday,” Andy responds before Rusty can say anything. “But he never celebrates, so I always drag him out for a drink.”
My heart pinches, and something inside me wells up tight. If yesterday was Rusty’s birthday, that means… Did his parents die on his birthday? How did I never realize that before?
Shit, no wonder he doesn’t want to celebrate.
“Happy birthday, Rusty,” I say, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Then I clear my throat. “How about another glass of whiskey? On me.”
His eyes finally meet mine, and I can already see him preparing to decline, so I pull out a bottle of Woodford before he can answer me and pour him three fingers.
Andy slaps him on the back. “Nowthatlooks like you’re going to have a good birthday.”
I wait for a second, until Rusty nods at me, before making my escape.