Page 105 of The Wrong Game

“You really are like that damn skunk.”

I chuckled. “I know. I’m almost annoyed with myself.”

“She’s got you wrapped up, huh?”

I blew out a breath, counting up my till for the night. “More than I’ll admit to you, old man.”

Doc chuckled at that, but he was silent, still watching me from the edge of the bar.

“She’s coming to family dinner tomorrow night,” I said, and I paused what I was working on at the register to watch that fact settle over him.

Doc’s eyes widened a fraction, and he crossed his arm, shifting his weight to the other hip. “Wow. Meeting Mom and Dad now, huh?”

I nodded, and my hand reached for the back of my neck on autopilot. “Is this too soon? Do you think I’ll scare her off?”

“With your family? Maybe,” he said on a smile. “But if she survived Micah, I imagine she’ll do just fine.”

“As long as you’re on your best behavior,” I volleyed. “No pulling up those old videos from New Year’s the first year we knew each other. She doesn’t need to know how easily you can drink me under the table.”

Doc smirked, his head popping back a little as a silent laugh touched his eyes. But he just cleared his throat, eyes on the bottles lining the back of the bar.

“Ah, actually, I won’t be there tomorrow night.”

I scoffed, plucking the pour spouts from the bottles we’d used that night and tossing them in the tub of hot, soapy water. “Sure, you won’t be at family dinner,” I joked, screwing the lids back on the open bottles and shelving them. “What, you got a hot date with your little island princess? Going to jump on a last-minute flight?”

“I wish,” he murmured. “But, I do have some business to attend to.”

I was still chuckling, but when my eyes met Doc’s, he didn’t have even a hint of humor in his.

I paused, holding the necks of two bottles of whiskey in each hand. “Wait, you’re really not coming?”

Doc was quiet, his eyes sad as he watched me shelve the bottles I’d been holding. And something about the air shifted, like I’d been walking in a dark alley and just realized someone was walking behind me.

“Doc,” I said, cocking a brow at his silence. I didn’t move for any of the other bottles, just stood there at the other end of the bar, watching my old friend. “What’s going on?”

He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment before he opened them again, and his gray eyes found mine. “I’m leaving.”

My chest tightened, but I leaned a hip against the bar, propping one hand on the wood. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Like, you’re going on vacation? You’re taking a trip?”

“I mean I’m leaving. I’m moving.” He swallowed. “To St. Croix.”

I blinked, heart beating three loud times in my chest before I threw my head back on a laugh.

Doc still stood there, silent, committed to the joke.

“Ha-ha,” I said, pointing at him when the laugh had subsided. “Very funny. I’m sure you’re justmoving to St. Croix,” I joked, shaking my head. “Let me guess, for Rita, right? You guys are just going to get hitched and live in paradise.”

“Damn it, Zach,” Doc said, his voice booming as he smacked the bar and stood straight.

That motion zapped any and all traces of laughter from me.

“This isn’t a joke. I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for months, but I didn’t know how. And then you were happy, with Gemma, and everything has been busy around here, but, I can’t wait any longer.” He swallowed, his chest heaving as his breaths came heavier. “I’m leaving. Soon. As in, before the new year.” His eyes fell from mine to the floor. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. But… just, don’t make a joke out of my love for Rita, okay? I know we poke fun at each other, but I see her the same way you see Gemma — and we’ve been in love for years, not months.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just watched him, blinking.

“Anyway, we’re tired of living apart from each other. I’ve always wanted to retire somewhere tropical, and I’ve been saving for a long time, and…” He sighed, running a hand over his head. “That doesn’t really matter. But, whatdoesmatter, and what I’ve been wanting to discuss with you is that when I go… I’m leaving you the bar.” He paused. “If you want it, that is.”

The tightness in my chest had turned into an all-out vise grip, a giant fist squeezing so hard I felt the edges of my ribcage pressing in on my lungs.