Page 3 of His Last Shot

Just then, the doors to the kitchen swing open on their hinges, and a man whose height rivals mine walks through carrying chili cheese fries.

Before he even sets the platter down, the three men are already diving in.

“So, Rachel here is an expert at reading people,” he interjects into the conversation.

“It’s a game we like to play. I bet she already has you figured out. ”

“She does, huh?” I shift in her direction, intrigued.

He smiles warmly at her. A smile she returns.

Dang it. A boyfriend, maybe? My heart sinks.

“Thanks,” she mumbles under her breath to the man while giving me a quick glance.

Slick leans forward to address me. “She’s never wrong.”

Rachel sighs, hesitant. She has now taken up drying glasses. As she pivots to place one along the row of clean ones, a tendril of hair falls from her bun and grazes the smooth tan skin of her neck.

Lord. I’m in trouble.

I lean back on my barstool, resting my forearm along its back, trying to steady myself yet also exuding confidence. Even though I’m feeling anything but around her. “Alright then, try to read me, Rachel. I’m ready.”

She sighs, pops out her hip, and rests her hand on it. “Okay, fine.”

She’s sassy. Add it to the growing list of things that interest me about this woman.

And since we are on the subject, what is it about her? There is an immediate pull, a magnetic force I’m having a hard time ignoring. I have never experienced a connection like this with any other woman. Which is probably why, at forty-five years old, I’m still single.

And naturally, at my age, that lends itself to rumors.

He’s a player.

Stay away from that one. He will break your heart.

So, like what? Are you allergic to marriage or something?

Why are you so picky?

Trust me, I’ve heard them all. And it’s not that I haven’t wanted to settle down. It’s just that this is marriage. A lifelong commitment. I don’t take it lightly .

Plus, seeing what my cousin has with his wife, Laura. I want that. He was lucky enough to find an incredible woman. But for me, it just hasn’t happened yet. Even though I want it to.

And for that reason, I have had one semi-serious relationship. It lasted six months, and I tried. I really did. I regret breaking her heart, but she wasn’t the one. And I have been dating, searching, and longing for the right woman ever since.

Perhaps I just found her.

Rachel gives me a once-over, her gaze holding mine, and for a moment, time suspends as we allow the tension to engulf us.

Just as she opens her mouth to speak, a crash comes from the kitchen.

Her head whips towards the doors. The tall guy takes off running with Rachel hot on his trail.

“Micah, we need to do something about…” The statement fades as soon as she disappears behind the swinging door.

With that interruption, Randy gets out of his stool and slaps two fifties on the bar. Seems like a lot of money for a beer and some fries, but whatever. He faces me and points. “She likes you.”

This takes me aback. “What?”

“She is going to murder you, Randy,” Tiny speaks up as he rises from his stool and pulls a hundred out of his wallet. Geez. These guys are generous tippers.

Randy continues, “Oh, come on, Tiny. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of him all night long.”

Interesting.

“But you know her policy on dating customers,” Tiny interjects.

Even more interesting.

None of this matters, though, if she’s taken. “Fellas, look, I don’t even know her. And besides, her boyfriend might not like it.”

Not ashamed to admit I am fishing for information here.

All three of them burst out into laughter. “Boyfriend? You mean Micah?” Slick asks through his howling while pointing to the kitchen. “Relax, man. That’s her brother.”

Oh. Well, that explains it. Relief fills my chest .

I wave my hand over the three men who seem very invested in Rachel with the obvious familiarity I picked up on. “Are you guys related to her as well?”

“Nah,” Randy answers. “Just regulars who look out for her and Micah.”

That’s … considerate.

Randy and Tiny turn to Slick. “We’re gonna take off. You staying?” Slick nods.

I watch Randy and Tiny leave out the front door when suddenly, my bladder is screaming at me.

After I take care of business and walk out of the restroom, Micah’s behind the bar again, talking to Slick. Rachel is nowhere in sight. Their conversation hits me as I walk past.

“So, Rachel’s RA has been acting up again, huh?” Slick asks Micah.

“Yeah.” Micah returns. “Not as much as last time, which is good. We are going to see a new rheumatologist next week, though, at the Cleveland Clinic. Hopefully, they can help her more than the quacks around here.”

Slick hums. “I sure hope so. She doesn’t need to be in that much pain all the time. I hate seeing it. You can tell it’s bothering her tonight.”

With my head down, I walk back over to the tables, leaving what is an obvious private conversation in the rear-view mirror.

Rachel emerges from the kitchen and immediately zeros in on where I was sitting.

Her shoulders deflate, but then she scans the bar.

Our eyes lock, and a small smile forms on her lips.

Not quite prepared to call it a night, I rack the balls, ready to get some practice in, but curiosity gets the better of me. I pull out my phone, and Google What is RA?

Two words stare back at me. Rheumatoid Arthritis.

Empathy rolls over my body as I look over at the bar to find her again. She’s attempting to reach for a bottle of booze from the top shelf. She winces. Slick notices, rounds the bar, and retrieves the bottle. As she thanks him, she rubs her elbow, pain etched on her beautiful face.

I click on the first article from the Mayo Clinic and read .

Rheumatoid Arthritis is an autoimmune disease, meaning the body's immune system, which normally protects against foreign invaders, turns against its own tissues.

Common symptoms of the disease include joint pain, swelling, stiffness, and fatigue.

If left untreated, RA can cause significant joint damage and deformity, leading to bone erosion and spurs.

While there is no cure for RA, treatments can help manage symptoms and slow down the progression of the disease.

Shock courses through me. What? She has this? How is that possible?

Isn’t arthritis a disease a person gets in old age? I mean, I’m pretty sure I have it in my knees. But Rachel looks to be in her thirties or late twenties.

Another quick glimpse, and her distinctive, almost swaying gait is unmistakable even as she focuses on a customer.

It all makes sense now.

My heart swells with compassion, and a need to know everything about this woman consumes me.

Sliding my phone into my pocket, I focus on breaking the balls. With a scrape of chalk on cue, they scatter across the table, the clatter a sharp contrast to the quiet determination in my heart because I’m not leaving until I talk to her again.

Tonight.