No, I can’t go there.
My knuckles turn white, squeezing the porcelain sink.
Maybe he’s ashamed because of Molly, who deserves better than what he could offer her.
Poor girl. At this point, she’d be better off chasing someone else—anyone other than Rhett.
The urge to chase after Rhett buzzes beneath my skin as if I’m on a live wire.
There’s nothing wrong with us wanting each other.
Now I know better—his words and actions don’t match. This littleI don’t want you backact is going to be a bitch, especially since he’s trying to convince himself it’s the truth.
Splashing the cold water over my face, I will the thoughts to stop, before turning off the faucet, leaving the bathroom to go back to the game we need to finish.
Instead, I find Dawson and Cash are putting up all the pool cues, and Rhett is nowhere to be found.
Fucking coward.
Dawson catches me first.
“Ya’ll already calling it a night?” I ask, pulling my phone out and glancing at the time. It’s 1:30 in the morning already, and closing is at two a.m.
“Oh shit. Never mind.” Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I extend my hand to Dawson. “You played great, even if one of you fuckers should have warned me.”
Both Dawson and Cash let out a laugh as Dawson shakes my hand.
Cash comes over to shake my hand as well, and I casually ask, “Where’d Rhett go?”
Cash shrugs, dropping my hand. “Probably got a call from Molly trying to sweet talk him into her bed again.”
I ball my fist at my side.
Images flood my brain. Rhett in his truck, Molly’s number on the screen, driving toward her instead of staying. Choosing the easy, legible thing. The thing that makes sense in a town like this. The thing that fits neatly into the life he’s built for himself.
I flex my fingers slowly.
I don’t actually have anything against Molly, she just has the unfortunate luck of being in the way of something I want. It’s not her fault, though.
“Fair. Ya’ll get home safe.” I nod at them both before walking over to the bar to wait for Halle to get off, taking the chair at the end.
The guys leave and Halle closes the remaining customers’ tabs, fluttering back and forth from one end of the bar to the other as I fidget, ready to spill it all to her.
Seeing me fidgeting, Halle walks over. “Shoot that, then sip on this. I’m kicking out the stragglers, and then you can talk.” She slides a shot of brown liquor and a cup of water in front of me.
I slam back the small shot glass without asking what it is, letting the liquor burn all the way down, and send up a silentprayer to the Lord above for giving me such an understanding older sister.
One by one, the bar stools empty and patrons leave.
Time drags by, and I swear, minutes feel like hours.
Lost in watching the clock, I hear the faint click of a lock. Turning, I find Halle by the front door, locking us in and everyone else out.
Gathering my courage, I straighten up to speak, but she raises a finger, halting me.
“Let me check the bathrooms for stragglers and make sure the kitchen staff went home. You can hold on for five more minutes,” she says, walking off to do all her usual checks.
She doesn’t take long at all before she’s heading back behind the bar, so she can start washing all the glasses. Making eye contact, she gives me the go ahead.
