Page 15 of Versions Of Us

I sigh, not bothering to look at him as I reach for a glass and pour him a beer. I silently slide it across the bar in his direction, my eyes on the glass instead of him, my jaw ticking in distaste.

“Thanks, kid.”

Something about the tone of his voice draws my attention and I lift my gaze to his. I see a flicker of sadness in his eyes, quickly masked by a forced smile. Then he adjusts his stare into the beer in front of him.

Not for the first time, I wonder what could have happened in this man’s life to turn him into this shell of a human. Did he take a sharp wrong turn somewhere that led him on this path of destruction? Or did he always walk a fine line, needing only the slightest nudge to tip him over the edge?

Even without knowing, I’m acutely aware of how easy it could be for any of us to wind up where he is, and it terrifies me.

Because I don’t want to be like him.

“Henley.” Steve’s voice pulls me from the dark hole I’d unintentionally dove into, approaching me with a heavy box of liquor wedged under his good arm. His other arm was taken from him in a shark attack which is probably the main reason for my fear of sharks. I retrieve the box and place it down behind the bar. “I’m gonna need your help with ordering some extra stock for the engagement party next week.”

“No worries, boss,” I say to him, thankful for the diversion. “You want me to talk to EJ about the menu?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he nods. “Actually, an even better idea would be to talk to Liv about it.”

“Right. Of course,” I say with a short laugh.

We both know that of the two of them, Liv would be better prepared to plan the catering. Or literally the entire event.

“And also, I told Liv that she can come into the bar after hours to set up, so you’ll be seeing her later. She’ll probably bring Kristen along with her.”

“Sure. Okay,” I say, then clear my throat.

“Henley?” Steve asks, turning to face me head on. “You alright? You seem distracted.”

“What? No.” I manage, knowing I’m doing a really shitty job of hiding this sudden onset of anxiety at the mention of Kristen’s name. “I’m fine. Just busy.”

“Okay. Good.” Steve slaps me on the shoulder with his good arm and then heads to the tiny office in the back.

Iamdistracted, but I’m not about to share that with him or anyone else. The truth is, I’ve been restless ever since Liv and EJ announced their plans to marry. Nothing shakes you up like your best friend deciding it’s time to get hitched.

It’s made me question everything I am and everything I’ve done up until this point in my life, highlighting every one of my flaws and insecurities.

And while I’m being honest with myself, I’ve wasted a lot of time. I’ve partied and I’ve had fun, but I don’t have much else to show for it. If these last few years have taught me anything, it’s that I’m a quitter. I have a bunch of dead-end jobs I was fired from and a half-finished carpentry traineeship to prove it.

But the one thing I’ve never wanted to quit was Kristen.

Lately, I can’t stop thinking about her. About us, and how far we’ve come from those two awkward teenagers that met at the river.

I think about how when she isn’t with me, it feels as though I’m not a whole person. And how when I’m exhausted after working a long shift at the tavern, seeing a message or a missed call from her on my phone makes my heart feel lighter.

When I get home, she’s the person I want to see curled up on the couch or lazing in the hammock on the front porch, waiting for me.

I went to see her mum at the veterinary clinic today. I don’t even know why. I thought I had a purpose until I got there, and all sense of reasoning left me. Maybe it’s because Kristen’s mother is the most important person in her life and that makes her important to me too.

For so long, it had been just the two of them, their strong bond forged by the hardships they had faced in the aftermath of her father’s leaving.

Kristen had told me things about her childhood. She’d told me that when they’d arrived in Cliff Haven, they had little more than the clothes on their backs. She’d spoken of her mother’s sadness but also of her strength, a trait that Kristen no doubt inherited from her.

But it was the things she didn’t say that I heard the loudest.

Her father’s abandonment had left her broken, forever questioning her worth. She had her mum, but she desperately wanted a family that would love her the way her father didn’t.

There are two things I know for sure.

One is that I love Kristen.

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