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Chapter 2

Deirdre

“Melancholy is thus the most legitimate of all the poetical tones.” Edgar Allan Poe

T ime stretches endlessly, each minute bleeding into the next as the monotony of my shift weighs on me. I move on autopilot, delivering drinks Gabe made, clearing empty glasses from tables, and forcing polite greetings at customers whose faces I wouldn’t remember by morning. The low thrum of music has become more like white noise in the background. My mind is racing with not only thoughts of school starting in less than forty-eight hours but also with the broody patron in the back and the enigma of a woman entertaining him.

He never needed any more drinks. Just the one glass of wine, so I was never called to VIP. When we’re assigned to certain patrons, all they have to do is press a button, and a light shines behind the bar. It reminds me of a call light system at a nursing home.

A little over an hour after our first encounter, Kieran emerges from the VIP area, his coat shifting around him like a dark cloud. Something about his expression stops me in my tracks. His jaw is clenched, his eyes even more distant, and his movements are sharper than before, as if his presence in the club has only sharpened whatever edge he was already teetering on.

For a man I’m assuming just got laid, he seems more wound up than he should.

Oh God, did I do something to piss him off? I don’t need one of Vincent’s highest-paying customers complaining about me. I need this job.

Surely not.

I handed him one drink. Surely that man can handle a little teasing.

He walks past the bar without looking my way. The air between us becomes tense for a fleeting moment. He looks like he is carrying something heavy around with him, and when he exits the bar, the tension lifts.

Interrupting my thoughts, Gabe walks up behind me.

“What a broody bastard,” Gabe mutters, shaking his head. “Man’s got secrets; that’s for sure.”

I don’t respond, just nod absently, my fingers tracing the rim of the crystal glass in my hand. My anxiety diminishes, fading into curiosity about this mysterious man.

What kind of secrets does he hold? Or is it pain?

He’s holding onto something, that much is obvious. But what leads a man like Kieran McKnight into a place like this, with shadows like those in his eyes?

And why can’t I stop thinking about it? I shouldn’t even care.

The crowd thins as the night wears on, and the bustling energy of the bar turns into a dull hum. My feet ache from hours of standing, and my mind wanders to the stack of textbooks and half-packed suitcases waiting for me back at Gabe’s place.

Tomorrow, I remind myself, is the start of something new.

By the time last call rolls around, I am counting down the minutes until closing. The final patrons trickle out, their laughter echoing faintly as they disappear into the night. I wipe down the bar, waiting for Gabe to emerge from the office after counting down the drawers to bring me my share of the tips.

“Ready to call it a night?” Gabe asks as he walks out of the office, a wad of cash in his hand.

“More than ready,” I reply, tossing the rag into a nearby bin. The prospect of collapsing into bed is the only thing keeping me upright.

He holds the money out to me, but before I can grab it, he holds it high above my head. A crooked smile plays across his face.

“It’s our last night together. What we doin’, roomie?”

I giggle at his antics and jump up to snatch the money out of his hand, failing miserably.

“You ass. Just for that, you owe me some takeout, and we’re going to binge some Grey’s Anatomy .”

He hands me my tips. “You got it, D. I know a great street taco truck real close by.”

I laugh, knowing he is referencing the taco truck parked outside of the bar that mainly gets its business from the tipsy customers who step out to wait for their taxis.

As I lock the door behind us and flip the cheesy red neon sign to “Closed,” a strange sense of calm washes over me. The quiet of the night feels like a reset, a small pause before my next chapter begins.

Tomorrow is going to bring new challenges, new faces, and the start of a journey I don’t know if I am quite ready for. But tonight, I am going to allow myself a small moment of peace.

Gabe knows the way to my heart and nerves is a few birria tacos from The Rolling Tortilla.

The taco stand’s neon sign buzzes faintly in the background as its bright pink glow casts shadows over the uneven pavement. Gabe adjusts his hoodie and grins as we start down the street toward his truck.

“Nothing beats greasy tacos after a shift like that,” he says, holding up his own bag as if it’s a trophy.

“Yeah, thanks for insisting we stop. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything but coffee and a donut all day.”

Gabe shoots me a disapproving glare. He hates it when I don’t eat.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Waving away his disappointment, I point to the bag. “See? I’m about to eat a good meal.” I feign a quiet giggle, trying to act like I am not distracted.

Gabe gives me his infamous side eye, but his expression softens. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since McKnight stormed out of the bar.”

I let out a long sigh, clutching my sweater tightly to me as we walk. “I don’t know. I just keep replaying it in my head. Did I do something wrong? He looked pissed.”

“He always looks angry,” Gabe replies, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, that man could win an award for Best Perpetual Scowl.”

I shake my head in disagreement, scrunching my brow. “But this felt different. I mean, it felt directed toward me, like I did something wrong. I think I upset him.”

Gabe stops in his tracks, forcing me to pause as well. He rests a hand on my shoulder, his eyes warm and reassuring.

“Listen to me, D. You didn’t do anything wrong. If he’s upset, that’s on him, not you. He’s a grown man, not a toddler. If he wants to storm out like a moody teenager because he didn’t get his way with whoever that lady was, let him.”

I chuckle despite my anxiety, the knot in my chest loosening slightly. “You think he didn’t get his way? It seems like there isn’t a woman on this earth who would tell him ‘no.’”

Gabe shrugs, and we resume our walk to his truck. “Probably. Guys like that are used to being in control. He probably expects everyone to tiptoe around him like he’s some big deal.”

“Honestly, good for her if she denied him. Shit, maybe he wanted you, and he knows he can’t have you. You’d probably chop his dick off with that sharp, smartass attitude of yours.”

“Gabe,” I groan, nudging him in his side lightly with my elbow.

“Just saying!” he teases. “But seriously, don’t overthink it. The man’s cranky by default. I promise you, whatever he’s sulking about, it’s not the end of the world.”

By the time we reach Gabe’s townhouse, I feel a bit lighter. The small, cozy space is exactly what I needed. Gabe is the ultimate bachelor with no care in the world. His home is his refuge of mismatched furniture, throw blankets, and the faint smell of popcorn from the last movie night we had. Gabe immediately tosses his keys onto the coffee table and heads to the kitchen to grab drinks while I set the tacos down and sink into the overstuffed couch.

The savory aroma of grilled meat and spices wafts through the air of the living room as I open the plastic bag and pull out a smaller brown bag stuffed with tacos.

“Okay, so Sprite is all I have, babe,” Gabe announces as he walks back into the room, handing me a cold can. “And I already queued up Grey’s Anatomy because, let’s be real, after most shifts we need something dramatic and predictable.”

I let out a laugh, popping open the can. “You really know how to sell it.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, stuffing our faces with tacos and watching Meredith Grey’s life spiral into chaos for the millionth time. Every now and then, Gabe makes a snarky comment about a character or mimics a dramatic line, sending me into fits of laughter.

Still, I can’t fully shake the image of Kieran’s exit from my mind. The way his jaw had tightened, the way his hands had clenched into fists. There was something about it that felt too personal, too raw.

“Gabe,” I say, fumbling mindlessly with a napkin during a break between episodes.

“Yeah?” he responds, leaning back against the couch and giving me his full attention.

“Do you think maybe I was too harsh calling him out on his sulking? You don’t think I crossed a line, do you?”

Gabe tilts his head at me, then he shakes his head firmly.

“First off, why are you so concerned? He’s just a customer. But no, you didn’t cross any line. Trust me, if you did, he would have let you know. Guys like that? They’re not shy about putting people in their place. If anything, you probably just caught him off guard.”

“Off guard?”

“Yeah. Think about it. Vincent tiptoes around him, acting like he is some bigshot. He’s used to getting his way. You, on the other hand, are smart and sharp as hell, and you didn’t let him intimidate you. Maybe that’s why he stormed out—because you’re not easy to rattle. You killed his horny buzz. And honestly? Good for you.”

Maybe Gabe is right. Maybe Kieran’s reaction wasn’t about me at all, but about something deeper…or hell, maybe it was whatever happened between him and Miss Legs for Days.

“Thanks, Gabe,” I murmur, leaning my head against the couch.

“Anytime, D,” he replies, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “Now shut up and watch. McDreamy’s about to do something stupid again, and I don’t want you to miss it.”

For the first time that night, I let myself relax, focusing on the drama unfolding on the screen instead of the thoughts playing out in my mind.