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“Mack liked to play it in the shop.” I look at the whiskey, tilting it side to side.

I liked to sing it when I was holding Drew. I can still see her with that shirt around her shoulders, her perfect little tits pointed up at me, peeking out of the top of that lace bra. We have to talk. I have to get this shit off my chest. Resting on my elbow, I wipe my hand across my eyes, fatigue hitting me now.

“What’s on your mind, brother?” Steve’s voice lowers. He’s less bravado, and more legit concern.

I look to him, giving him a tight smile. “Sometimes the past doesn’t want to stay past.”

Mose is with us now. He’s holding a white bar towel, drying a beer mug. “My old man was in WW two.” He actually pronounces the letters. “He never could shake the memories.”

My jaw clenches. I’m not looking to be the topic of conversation with these guys. Or their wives.

“I’m okay.” I blink up and force a smile. “It just still feels close sometimes.”

“You got a friend here, man.” Steve’s getting a little choked up. “I know you and Danny were tight. At least you were with him in the end.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Dagwood, man. Call me Dag.”

“Thanks, Dag.” I look at the whiskey. It’s almost done. “I should probably head on home.”

“It’s a Saturday night, bro. You can sit with us a bit. Get some of that shit off your chest.”

Mose drifts to the other end of the bar where a couple has come in. I look up at the clock. It’s just after ten. “What’s Dotty doing tonight?”

“Oh, you know. She’s got a baby shower or some such shit. Woman stuff.”

Again, I find myself chuckling. I’m wondering why Dagwood and I weren’t closer friends in high school. It’s possible I’m feeling a little buzzed myself.

“Anything else on your mind? I mean, besides the shit.” He leans closer, giving me a knowing nod. “Dotty said Drew Harris has been waiting for you to come back for years.”

Despite the numb of alcohol, my stomach twists at this information. Dagwood doesn’t miss a thing.

“Yeah.” He leans back like he won a bet. “I knew there was something there. Look, I get it, dude. Danny was a shithead when he drank. He’d probably have tried to kick your ass if he knew you were into Drew.”

My forehead tightens. “He wasn’t too thrilled.”

He slaps me on the arm. “If that’s what’s bugging you, I say let that shit go. Danny’s in a better place, and you gotta do what’s right for you right here. Get that girl.”

Dagwood makes it all seem so easy. I’m not even thinking when I pick up the second whiskey Mose put in front of me several seconds ago.

“Still, it stung,” I mutter into the glass, as I take another sip. “He said I wasn’t good enough… He was supposed to be my friend.”

“I get it man. I really do. If you’re good enough to be his friend, what the fuck is wrong with you dating his sister?”

“That’s what I wanted to know.” My voice is quiet, not animated like my drinking buddy’s, but he’s saying everything that’s been eating at me for two years.

“Like I said, he’s gone. You’re here. Drew’s here, and she is… so fine.”

“Watch it.” An unexpected flash of anger moves across my chest.

It’s unnecessary, and I’m definitely buzzing to be pissed at him. Dagwood is no threat to me. He doesn’t even want to be.

My response makes him laugh. “Easy, man, easy! I’m not after your girl.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“Sure looks that way to me.”