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“Try the beer and I’ll tell you.”
“Really?” My eyebrows pinch and I eye him skeptically.
He nods, a smile playing on his face.
Without taking my eyes off him, I lift the mug and bring it to my lips. I’ve tried many different kinds of alcohol, so I don’t expect anything from this. This is just a ‘poor man’s drink’ as Devin would put it.
But when the brown liquid hits my tastebuds, I cover my mouth in surprise and try not to spit it out. I slam the mug on the bar and force myself to swallow. Colter laughs beside me.
“You don’t like it?” he asks, amusement apparent in his tone.
My face is scrunched when I turn to him, and he laughs more.
I shake my head and will my mouth to make more saliva so I can wash this God-awful taste away. “You are such a dick.”
“Well, now you’ve lived a little.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve been to twenty different countries and four continents, butthisis what I’ve been missing.”
He has a smile on his face that could melt me in a puddle if I didn’t know him. It slowly fades, and he glances at one of the pictures on the wall before meeting my eyes again.
“My mom worked here while I was growing up.”
The sour look on my face eases, and the taste in my mouth quits registering. I forgot he said he’d tell me what the story was with this place. I never thought he actually would.
I sit up straight and give him my full attention.
“Ron and Margie were cool about letting me hang out here after school when it wasn’t busy. Eventually, they became like family to me, and they helped a lot when my mom got sick.”
“Oh,” I glance over at Margie who’s in a heated debate with one of the patrons over who knows what. “They seem like really good people.”
“They are,” Colter says with a nod.
I’m not sure what else to say, and an awkward tension forms around us. It isn’t because he mentioned his mother, although it isn’t hard to see that’s the reason he was so hesitant to say anything. It’s because I know what I want to ask as several questions pop up in my mind, but none feel appropriate.
“What?” Colter asks. The hint of annoyance in his tone startles me, but I don’t comment on it. I don’t want to scare him away. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s… interesting to me. He’s contradicting in so many ways, and it makes mewantto know more. Want to know him.
“Nothing.” I give my head a shake and bite my lip.
“I already told you my mom died. You don’t have to be weird about it.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m not being weird about it.”
“Kay,” he says, moving his gaze from me and rolling his neck.
He seems so stressed out right now, so defensive. I want to be annoyed with him for it, but I can’t. Because I get it. Every time someone asks about my family history, there’s an awkwardness in the air when I tell them my parents are dead. It doesn’t upset me like it clearly does him. I spent my teenage years in foster care so I’ve been in that situation more times than I can count.
“I’m sorry she died.” I swallow and try to think of how I’m going to say what’s on my mind. “I know it was hard for you, and I know it’s hard to talk about. I’m not trying to be weird about it. It’s just… Well, there are some things that don’t make sense to me, but I don’t want to be rude by asking.”
“What things?” he asks, his defensiveness easing, and confusion taking its place.
“Like…” I look up as I think, and when I can’t come up with a better way to say this, I spit it out. “Why would your mom need to work at a bar? No disrespect, it’s just, didn’t your dad make good money in his...” I make air quotes. “Profession.”
Colter’s face softens and most of the tension leaves his body. “Oh.” He shifts in the stool, and I try not to be happy about the embarrassment he’s displaying. “Right, sorry. Um…” He rubs the back of his neck, and when he moves his hand back to his side, he leans in close to me. “Look, I’m not used to talking about my family history. I get that our situation is… odd, and you might have questions about it, but I need you to keep everything between us, all right?”
“That goes without saying.”
“I know, but humor me.”