Page 20 of His Last Shot

His stare, narrow and blazing with disgust, zeroes in on Rachel as he takes a step in her direction.

On instinct, I rise from my chair because there is no way I am going to allow this small man to insult her in any way, shape, or form.

My sudden movement gets the reaction I want out of him, and he redirects his attention back to me.

Rachel raises her eyebrows, wondering what’s about to happen next.

“Something I can help you with?” Drew snides. Our faces are inches apart as we stand off against each other.

He’s toast.

“There he is!” Dexter’s booming voice echoes throughout the bar as he saunters over to us.

I’ve never been happier to see the guy as I take a step back from Drew.

Dexter waltzes out of the back hallway, his beaming face thrilled his favorite person is here.

They give each other one of those obnoxious bro hugs.

“Mind if I steal your man away for a minute?” he asks Rachel.

God, these two are completely delusional.

Rachel goes about her job, not acknowledging either of them. “I don’t have a man here, so do what you want with him.”

I have to admit, this comment makes me equal parts proud and bummed. Proud that she isn’t going along with the little fairy tale these two men devised. And bummed that I’m not her man.

Not yet, anyway.

Dexter and his obvious apprentice walk back to his office as Drew’s friends make their way to the tables. And now, it’s just Rachel and me again.

With a deliberate spin on the barstool, I give her a pointed stare, raising an eyebrow, my expression hard and questioning. “What?” she asks.

“Please explain to me what in the world you saw in that guy.” Because other than her one and only mention of him the first night we met, she hasn’t spoken of him since. I had a sense that the topic was off-limits. But now that he’s front and center, I’m asking.

She lets out a long sigh. “He wasn’t always like this.

When we first met, here actually, and started dating, he was sweet and caring.

A really nice guy. Like I told you before, he’s ten years older than me, which wasn’t an issue for either of us.

Plus, he’s easy on the eyes.” Her gaze meets mine, shy and hesitant, anticipating my reaction, but I keep my face impassable.

She continues. “After we dated for a little while, he asked me to marry him, and I accepted, even though my head was screaming at me to run.”

“Did you love him?” It’s a simple question. The anticipation of her response is agonizing, but the sickening thought of her being in love with him turns my stomach.

She shrugs. “Yes and no. I think I was in love with the idea of what he was promising me. A home, kids, a future family, you know, a life.”

“And is that what you want? A family, a life with a good man? ”

“It is.”

Adding that to my list of goals I want to accomplish with this woman. Because that is what I have always wanted. And maybe, just maybe, I can break through her walls and make her see me. Maybe we can build that future … together.

“Anyway, things changed after he became close with my uncle. He gradually pulled away from me, and that’s around the time the love bombing started.

I mean, before this, he would buy me gifts and do sweet things, but out of nowhere, it grew into enormous bouquets of flowers and expensive jewelry.

It was constant and overwhelming. I felt smothered even though he was distant. ”

“You aren’t a jewelry girl,” I interject. How I know this, I have no clue.

I just know.

A fleeting smile dances across her lips, confirming my assumption, before fading as quickly as it appeared.

She opens up some more. “Well, it turns out all the gifts were just him feeling guilty because that’s when I found him with one of the bar waitresses”—she pauses as if this memory is painful to relive—“in my bed.”

My jaw drops. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You found him with another woman, in your home and in your bed?”

“Yep.”

“Good grief. What a pig. Rachel, I am so sorry that happened to you. I can’t imagine how devastating that must have been.

” And I mean it. No one deserves that. Especially not someone who brings such light into the world.

Into my world. Without even trying. “I bet you let him have it, huh?” I grin as images of Rachel losing it and dumping him right there on the spot seep into my thoughts.

She sheepishly tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Umm … no, actually, I didn’t. I just texted him that night and told him it was over and that I knew about the waitress. He tried to lie about it, but it was over.”

I tilt my head in confusion. Rachel is sassy, at least she plays the part of the sassy bartender.

But the more I get to know her, the more something or someone dulls her light.

Whatever it is or was has completely eroded her self-confidence, which I know she has deep inside.

And it’s not just Drew. It’s her uncle, too .

Because why in the world would Dexter push her to reconcile with someone that hurt her so badly? He raised her, for crying out loud. Wouldn’t he want her to be happy with a man who treats her with respect and love? Mallory and Jake aren’t even my kids, and I want the world for them.

None of it makes sense.

She squares her shoulders and lifts her head, flashing me the biggest smile, signaling that she’s done reminiscing. “So, that’s the story of the one serious relationship in my life. I’ve sworn off all men since. At least for a while. Especially anyone older.”

Those last three words, spoken with such conviction, resonate in the air, leaving an almost tangible wave of energy in their wake. She’s making a point. Whether it’s to me or herself, I’m not sure.

A heavy stillness presses down around us. “Don’t let him make you think all men are the same, Rachel. There are some good guys out there.” Like me.

She shrugs, and a visible tremor runs through her chin, betraying her inner turmoil. She’s trying to pretend like this experience hasn’t had a profound effect on her. Plus, I wonder what details she’s leaving out. Like how her health factored into everything. I’m sure Drew knew.

“Well, from my experience, they are. Except for Micah, of course. And the OBG’s.” A hint of a smile shines through at the mention of them.

Just then, two of the smallest men who ever lived emerge from the back offices. Dexter has his arm slung over Drew’s shoulder as they laugh and carry on. Suddenly, a new nickname for this worthless piece of garbage flashes in my head.

The murmur of their conversation fades as they walk past me, heading to the tables. A flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps—passes across Dexter’s face as he glances back at me. More than likely wanting to know what Rachel and I were discussing. “Come on, Givens. You and your team are up.”

With a swift movement, I snatch my cue, its weight reassuring in my hand as it always is.

Ice cubes clink in my glass as I toss back the rest of my drink.

I place the glass on the bar with a little too much force, trying to keep my anger about this man in check.

Rachel studies my every move, and somehow, her stare calms me.

“Are you ready to watch Drew Who? get the beating of his life?” I ask her, giving her a playful wink.

Her brow furrows as confusion washes over her face. “Wait … Drew Who?”

I smirk, waiting for her to get the joke. “Exactly.”

She gasps, her eyes widening as she snorts. She claps her hand over her mouth. “That’s good,” she says, understanding that Drew Who? deserves to be a question mark and an afterthought in her life.

I don’t turn my back until her gaze meets mine, making sure I have her full attention. “It’s time you have a new experience with a good and decent man, Rachel.” With a smile, I walk towards the table, her gaze burning into my back the entire way.