Page 11 of I Choose You (Wilder #2)

“Luke has our spot saved,” Wyatt said, his eyes caught on where my hand was still in Reid’s. Reid dropped my hand so fast it was like I had burned him.

We met up with Luke and Seb, Juliet having gone home with a headache, and I watched as the townspeople all huddled around the tree.

Families, young and old, had come out to enjoy the festivities and each other’s company.

I had been to tree lighting events in the past, but they’d never felt like this.

Those were always for the press to witness and report on.

Interviews were lined up directly after, or even during, the lighting to get as much exposure as possible.

This felt different. It felt like a community, a home .

After the lighting and speeches were finished, everyone started dispersing, the event coming to an end.

“You still coming by after this, or do you need to get home?” Wes asked Wyatt.

“You’re sure you don’t mind, doll?” Wyatt wrapped his arms around Maeve, sandwiching Jane between them. Reid had told me earlier that their relationship was still relatively new, and by the enamored look on both their faces, it was obviously going well.

“Not at all. Go. Have fun.”

“You fuckers can come too, obviously,” Wyatt said to the group.

“Can’t. I’ve got to get back to Jules,” Luke said.

“Yeah, I’m in,” Reid said.

“I think I see someone I know.” Seb wiggled his brows.

“I’ll talk to you guys later. Claire, it was very nice meeting you,” he said, his eyes sparkling with charm and mischief.

“You ever want to get that drink, you let me know.” He winked.

I almost thought I heard Reid growl next to me.

Seb made his way toward a woman who was looking at him like he was a piece of meat.

“Well, thanks so much for inviting me tonight. I had a really good time,” I said. It was true. Reid had been friendly and engaging all night. His family was great. They were all so funny and nice, making me feel welcome from the moment I arrived.

Reid’s eyes searched my face for a long moment. He opened his mouth but then clamped it shut before trying again. “Okay, let me walk you to your car.”

“I’m fine. It’s Calla Bay. What devious criminal is lurking in your streets?” I laughed .

“I’m still going to walk you to your car, Claire,” he said, shaking his head.

A fluttering sensation erupted in my belly when he put his hand on the small of my back.

“Bye, guys. Thanks for letting me crash your night.”

A chorus of “Have a good night” and “Nice to meet you” went around the group. Luke clocked Reid’s hand on my back, but Reid didn’t move to withdraw it this time.

“I’m going to walk Claire to her car. I’ll be back in a minute,” Reid said to his brothers.

“Take your time, brother,” Wyatt said with a smirk.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I said as Reid and I stopped by my car a few streets away.

“You said that already.” He smiled. God, he had such a nice smile.

“That was your opening to say I’m glad you could come, Claire,” I teased, lowering my voice to mimic his.

His laugh lit up his eyes, making the deep brown swirl with flecks of gold. Or maybe that was just the reflection from the Christmas lights, but it was captivating, nonetheless. “You weren’t as annoying as I thought you would be.”

“Always the charmer, I see. Although that’s more Seb’s domain, right?”

He leaned forward. The grin on my face slipped as butterflies took flight in my belly. He reached out, and for the smallest of moments, I was disappointed when his hand found the car door handle and not my waist.

“Have a good night, Claire.”

“Night, Reid.”

The idea of sitting in my moldy motel room after spending all evening with Reid and his family didn’t hold much appeal.

It was still early, so I decided to head to the bar that was on-site.

I had been there before for dinner, which wasn’t great, but I figured as long as I stuck to a simple drink—or better yet, one from a can—it should be fine.

The bar room was dark and loud. There were a lot more people here than I expected. Then again, it was a Friday night, and everyone in town seemed to be out and about for the tree lighting.

I found a seat at the bar between an older man with gray hair tied into a ponytail and a guy in his mid-forties who looked like he was about to fall off his chair. Ponytail guy smiled at me, only a handful of teeth in his wide grin. “I get the feeling you ain’t a regular around here.”

“Not really. What gave it away?” I smiled back at him. He didn’t give off any creepy vibes, just someone who had probably lived a hard life.

“You put your bag on the bar top. A regular would know not to do that unless she was planning on getting rid of it.” He wheezed out a laugh.

Quickly, I snatched—or rather, peeled—my bag off the bar top. Sure enough, the bottom was covered in something gross. The bartender set a coaster down in front of me, not that that was going to help this place, and took my drink order.

The can of hard seltzer was going down quickly.

This place was bringing down my mood, and I wanted to get out of here as fast as possible.

The guy on the side of me tried to stand, but he could barely even sit up.

I had caught the bartender watching him for the past twenty minutes.

He held on to the bar, swaying back and forth like a pendulum.

“Hey, man, where you headed?” the bartender asked him. “Why don’t you hand me over your keys. ”

Slurring his words, he was almost impossible to understand. “I’m not keying you my… fuc-iot… I’m pissing…”

The bartender’s eyes widened. “Not at my bar, you’re not.”

“I’m going to piss. Fuck off,” the drunk guy said to him.

“Just need your keys, Rusty. I’m not letting you out of my sight unless I have them in my hand.”

He stumbled back from the bar, slurring words that didn’t make any sense. The bartender started to move his way, coming around to the other side of the bar.

The drunk guy moved quicker than I could have expected. Before I knew what was happening, he had pulled out a gun and was waving it around in the air. He spun around, and my heart stopped beating for the half a second that the gun was pointed at my head.

“Woah, woah there, Rusty. You don’t need to be breaking out the heat.”

Rusty swung the weapon in a wide arc, pointing it at the bartender again. I slid off my stool as discreetly as I could and followed the rest of the patrons who had moved away from the bar, making our way to the back of the room.

The bartender moved a step closer to him, but Rusty yelled at him to stay back.

I wanted to call the police, but I had left all of my things at the bar, including my phone.

I did a quick glance around me and saw a few other people with their phones out, surely getting the necessary backup on the way.

My eyes were glued to the two men in front of me.

I half recognized the slight pain radiating in my temples from clenching my jaw so tightly, but it wasn’t enough to pull my focus.

Rusty stumbled around, turning toward the group of us huddled in the back. My heart rate was through the ceiling, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t focus on my breathing. Stuttered breaths matched the spasming of my heartbeat as I watched in terrified fascination.

“Rusty, put the gun away. You’re going to hurt someone with that thing. You don’t want to do that,” the bartender said, bringing Rusty’s attention back to him.

The ponytail guy from the bar came up behind Rusty and surprised him. He tried to pull the gun away from him, but Rusty held on tightly to it.

Rusty had turned his attention to his new attacker. Ponytail guy took a hit to the face, probably knocking out the last of his teeth, before the bartender took Rusty to the ground. They wrestled for a minute, but a drunk Rusty was no match for the larger and sober bartender.

The gun went off with a loud pop, sending anyone standing to the floor. Someone jabbed me in the back, and I returned the favor to the poor woman next to me, like the worst game of tag. The bartender drove his elbow into Rusty’s temple and got to his feet with the gun in his hand.

“Is everyone good?” he shouted. He glanced around the room to make sure no one was hit by the bullet. Rusty was laid out, unconscious, on the floor in front of him.

“Cops are on the way,” someone shouted behind me.

I felt like I was going to hurl. Was that normal, after it was over and the threat was contained, for my body to revolt?

People were moving around all of a sudden, talking animatedly to each other. It felt like everyone was whizzing by me, but I couldn’t move.

“Hey… Hey.” I pulled my focus away from the unconscious man on the floor. The bartender was standing in front of me. He had said something .

“Hm?”

“Is this yours?” he asked gently, my phone in his hand. “Do you want to call someone?”

“Oh, thanks.” I took the offered cell from him. Yes, I did want to call someone. But who?