Page 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

ATLAS

I hadn’t been able to leave fast enough, needing to get out of my home before Sutton returned.

I’d fled to the workout room in the high school, but there’d been no escape for me.

My mind kept spinning back to what I’d known from day one.

Sutton wasn’t the kind of woman who stuck around.

She’d built a career on being temporary.

I’d just been the fool who’d deluded himself into thinking she might stay.

All while ignoring the voice in the back of my mind reminding me that the people I cared about always left.

Running ten miles didn’t do shit to clear my head.

Hopefully some alcohol would.

It was after eleven when I stepped into One Night Stan’s, not bothering to return the greetings tossed my way from the patrons inside.

Instead, I walked behind the bar, ignoring Lincoln’s questioning glance, and grabbed a bottle of Blanton’s Gold Edition and a tumbler.

Sitting down on a stool as far from everyone else as possible, I slammed the glass down on the bar top and poured a double shot.

I swallowed it down without hesitation, then poured another.

I was a big guy, and it took a hell of a lot for me to even feel a buzz.

To get me drunk enough so I could forget this day would take a fuck-ton.

I just wished there were something that could make me forget the past two months.

Before I could lift the third pour to my lips, Lincoln set a hand on my forearm.

“You in a race to see who can get shit-faced first? Considering you’re the only one in it, I think you can slow down. You’re winning.”

“Fuck off,” I said without heat and brought the glass to my lips.

This time, I sipped the liquid, feeling the burn of the first two glasses already working their way through my system.

Linc pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen before he pocketed it and braced his hands on the bar top.

“Part of the gig of being a bartender is people usually tell me why they’re drowning their sorrows in a bottle.”

I didn’t respond.

Couldn’t. I was nowhere near numb enough for that.

Instead of pressing me, Lincoln just let me be, keeping an eye on me while serving other customers.

I had no idea how much time had passed when Declan set his helmet on the bar top next to me, only that I was finally starting to feel a little of that numbness I’d been so desperate for.

“What the hell is this about?” he asked.

He got nothing but silence from me, just like Lincoln had.

But it didn’t matter, because Linc strolled over, all too happy to fill Declan in.

“Don’t know. The asshole won’t talk to me. I do know he’s drunk more than his share of that three-hundred-dollar bottle of Blanton’s, though.”

“Right,” Declan said.

A pause followed, and I could feel the weight of his attention on the side of my face.

Then he spun to face the bar and boomed, “We’re closing early. Time to get the fuck out.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Lincoln asked.

Declan turned back to him.

“You think anyone else in Starlight Cove needs to see him like this? Mabel’s probably already on her way over for an interview.”

“I don’t disagree,” Lincoln said.

“I’m just saying you could have used a little tact.”

“That’s your job, not mine.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Lincoln grumbled before stepping out from behind the bar.

“Sorry, everyone, burst pipe in the bathroom. Regulations say we’ve got to close up until we get it fixed. Should be up and running tomorrow, so we’ll make it up to you with two-for-one drinks.”

It didn’t take long before the hum of voices faded, leaving nothing but the music pouring from the speakers until even that was cut off.

“The discount for those two-for-one drinks is coming out of your cut, not mine,” Declan said to Linc.

Lincoln braced his arms on the bar top and snorted.

“Are you kidding? It’s coming out of this idiot’s cut.”

If he was hoping that would provoke a response from me, he was sorely mistaken.

“Jesus Christ,” Dec muttered.

“Enough with the silence. I didn’t get called over here on a DEFCON 1 alert for you to sit there like a toddler refusing to talk.”

“Nothing to say.”

“Well, something made you think coming over here was a good idea,” he said.

As he probably intended, his words only made me think about exactly what had sent me here in the first place.

I tipped my nearly empty glass toward myself and mumbled, “She’s leaving.”

“Who?” Lincoln asked, surprise clear in his voice.

“Sutton?”

“Knew she was trouble from the second I saw her,” I said.

A weighted silence descended, and then Lincoln asked, “Did she actually tell you that?”

“The email with the job offer in Boston and her reply asking to get back to them said enough.”

“I’m not asking about a couple of emails. Did you talk to Sutton?”

“I didn’t need to. I saw the evidence.”

“A couple emails aren’t evidence. Jesus, man, are you serious? I get, like, fifty emails a week telling me how to enlarge my dick. Doesn’t mean I’m going to do it. Or need to, for that matter.”

“This isn’t a fucking joke,” I growled.

“I’m not joking.” Lincoln leaned back against the counter across from me and raised a brow.

“I’m illustrating what an idiot you’re being. If she’s moving to Boston—and that’s a big fucking if —the correct response from you is to start looking for coaching jobs in Boston. Not drowning your sorrows in the family bar.”

“Why the hell would I leave?”

Lincoln and Dec shared a glance before Declan said, “Why the hell wouldn’t you?”

“You two don’t know what you’re talking about.” I drained the rest of my glass before reaching for the bottle to pour another.

Declan snatched it away before I could grab it.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“And I think you should mind your fucking business. What good is having a bar if I can’t drink all the alcohol I want?”

“What good is having a bar?” Declan shot back.

“It’s the same thing I’ve been asking for ten fucking years.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re right,” I snapped.

“Maybe we should just sell this fucking place so neither of you are tied down anymore. You can leave just like everybody else.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Lincoln said.

“Don’t pretend to be confused now. You’ve been bitching about how you’re drowning here, and Dec can’t go a week without saying we should sell the damn thing. So, let’s do it.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Declan said, his face impassive even when I pinned him with a glare.

“Fuck you both. I don’t need this shit. I came here to drown out everything, not have more bullshit shoved down my throat.” I pushed to stand, but Declan shoved me back into my seat, illustrating just how off my game I was.

I had two inches and fifty pounds on the guy, but I dropped back onto the stool like a sack of bricks.

“Dec’s right,” Lincoln said.

“And you need to listen. Yeah, I’ve been complaining about drowning, but that means I want to open the circle of trust a little bit. You know, promote a couple people who’ve been with us for years to managers, so one of us doesn’t have to be here at all times? Not give up the whole place. And you know Dec only spouts off about selling the bar when the hot librarian has pissed him off that day. He’s not going anywhere.”

My shoulders slumped, the fight seeping out of me.

“Well, Sutton is.”

“And if she is, you should be figuring out how to go with her, not sitting here talking to us.”

“I’m not looking for advice. I don’t need you two to fix this.”

“You sure about that?” Lincoln asked.

“Because from where I’m standing, you could use a little fixing.”

“ I’m the one who fixes problems. I don’t bring them to others and make them deal with my shit.”

Lincoln snorted.

“Yeah, and doesn’t that get fucking exhausting?”

I didn’t respond because I didn’t know what to say.

It was complicated. Yes, it was exhausting—being the only one who held things together, the one everyone counted on, the constant rock for people to lean against. But it was also a privilege I took seriously, needing to prove my worth to the family I’d let down while only trying to protect them.

“Fine, you don’t want to talk? I’m going to talk,” Lincoln said.

“Here are some things I know that are objectively true—one, you downed more alcohol tonight than I’ve seen you drink all year. Two, you’re mumbling some nonsense about Sutton leaving without actual proof. And meanwhile, three, she’s texting me, wondering where the hell you are.”

I snapped my head up, searching his expression for any sign of a lie.

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a nod.

“And your dumb ass is here, while she’s waiting for you at home.”

I pulled out my phone, my chest tightening at the number of notifications I’d missed from her.

Anger, fear, and something that felt a hell of a lot like heartbreak all swarmed inside me, and I had no idea which would win out.

I’d spent forty years building walls no one could breach.

But somehow, this woman had not only slipped through, she’d also made herself at home while she was at it.

The thought of watching her walk away was fucking unbearable.

Unbearable but inevitable.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I said, the fight draining out of me.

“Even if she’s not leaving now, she’ll leave eventually.”

Both of them were quiet for long moments until Lincoln’s voice broke through the silence.

“You sure it’s not you who’s leaving first?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Physically, maybe,” Declan said.

“But you checked out the second you saw that email.”

“She deserves better than me anyway.”

Declan shrugged.

“Probably. But for some reason I will never understand, she chose you.”

“I don’t understand it either,” Lincoln said.

“I’m clearly the hottest Steele brother. And Sutton and I had a connection that night of the book fair. Before you?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled, even though I didn’t have a right to.

I’d never had a right to—not when Sutton had never truly been mine—and that only rankled more.

“Linc’s not the only one in town who’s interested,” Declan said like he wasn’t tearing out my heart with each word.

“I know half a dozen guys who are ready to shoot their shot.”

“Shit, man, I was joking,” Lincoln said.

“That’s not helping anything.”

“You got any other ideas on how to get through his thick head? Because you and I both know where this is coming from.”

Lincoln shook his head.

“Don’t say it.”

“Why not? You know as well as I do, this all boils down to the asshole who left us with nothing but this bar. We’re still here, while he’s out there living?—”

“Don’t bring Dad into this,” I growled.

“I didn’t bring him into anything,” Declan shot back.

“He’s been in it since the day he walked out.”

I shoved my stool back and stood.

“I’m done with this conversation.”

“You might be done with it, but it’s clearly not done with you,” Dec said.

Clenching my hands into fists, I took a step toward Declan, who stood and met my glare with one of his own.

Before I could land the punch I so desperately wanted to, Lincoln stepped between us and shoved us apart.

“Let me break up this little dick-measuring contest. I have the biggest. Both of you need to cool down.” He turned to me and clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“But Dec’s right. If your first instinct wasn’t to go with Sutton and instead just assume she’ll leave, you need to deal with that shit. Before it ruins the best thing that’s happened to you.”