Page 46 of Versions Of Us

“Maybe I could work with you,” she says optimistically.

“That’s a bad idea.”

The last thing I need is Mackenzie working at the bar. Although I can’t deny that her sarcastic attitude would come in handy warding off unruly customers and dealing with Old Tommy.

“You need an RSA to work behind a bar anyway,” I tell her.

“Whatever.” She scoffs at me, her tone thick with attitude. “I’m going out.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get my RSA,” she deadpans.

I shake my head as the door slams behind her. That girl is a force.

When I finally make it downstairs, I’m ten minutes late to my shift. This earns me a majorly dirty look from Dylan and it’s clear that this is not the time for me to be asking him for favours, so I keep Mackenzie’s proposal to myself.

Not that I want her working in the bar anyway. It would absolutely complicate things between us and Kristen.

I hold up a hand when I see him open his mouth to speak. “Sorry, Dylan. I know I’m late. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not.” He looks as though he wants to say more, but instead huffs out a frustrated breath.

I aim a single nod in his direction. It’s hard to explain how shitty it feels having a boss that’s three years younger than me frown upon me like the disappointment that I am.

“I’ll start stocking the fridges,” I offer, hoping that taking some initiative will help me get back into his good graces.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” He places some chairs behind a table and then comes around to meet me on the other side of the bar. “And hey, listen. The Cliff Haven carnival is coming up in a few weeks and we need to make sure we can cater to a whole lot more people.”

“Right. On it.” I heave a carton of beer over my shoulder and walk it to the bar fridge.

“We’ll need to double our stock and …”

“Yeah. I know. I got it,” I tell him.

This ain’t my first rodeo, kid,is what I really want to say.

The Cliff Haven carnival is an annual event, bringing customers from all around the region. It’s always the busiest day of the year for the tavern and Steve usually pulls in every one of his staff to help out. For the second time in a matter of five minutes, Dylan looks at me like he wants to say something else but then thinks better of it.

I turn and begin the arduous task of shuffling a hundred boxes of alcoholic beverages into different areas of the tavern.

Just what I need. More time to think.

“Hey, stranger.” I turn at the sound of a familiar voice floating through the tavern. Its usual easiness is missing, replaced with a gravelly edge.

I tense, knowing from his tone that my return to town hasn’t been received well by my best friend.

“EJ,” I say, not daring to meet his gaze. “Hey.” I place a box in front of the fridge and move on to picking up the next.

“Hey? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he says quietly, but there’s an understated anger in the way he speaks.

I shrug. Not because I don’t care, but because I honestly don’t know what I can say at this point to preserve what remains of our friendship.

“I wasn’t sure you were ever going to come back. For what it’s worth, it’s good to see you.”

“I don’t think there’s a single other person in town that shares that sentiment,” I say sarcastically.

This guy right here is my best friend in the world, but I’ve never felt so disconnected from him.

---