“Fine. I’ll try. But if you could talk to Tierney about keeping some distance between me and a certain someone, I’d appreciate it. And when a fight comes—because it will— I’m out of here. I’ll crash with a friend before I stay somewhere I’m not wanted.”
She gives me a soft smile and nods, like the conversation is settled whether I agree or not. “So. How are things with Derek?”
“Derek ended things a couple months ago. Two years, Aunt A…I thought we were fine. Turns out I’m ‘argumentative.’” I let out a short, humorless breath. “I got into my first bar fight in two years defendinghim, and that’s what I get. I almost called Halle to vent, but stopped. How do you even complain about something like that? It’s trivial compared to what that fucker is putting her through?—”
Matt cuts in. “Your sister’s strong—she’s had to be for a long time. Don’t underestimate what she can handle.” He pauses, then adds, “And as forbothof your choices in men…none of us liked them. I’m glad they’re both gone.”
The bluntness catches me off-guard, but grounds me in a way I didn’t expect. Matt doesn’t usually share his opinion, which usually means when he does share, it means something.
“I appreciate the honesty…I think.” I shrug, taking a slow sip of my beer, letting the noise around us fill the space.
Halle flits around behind the bar, slinging drinks and losing herself to the music playing through the speakers, and Aunt A jumps up to help her during the rush. The two move in sync with so much grace it looks like they’re dancing—looking so at peace in this town. It’s almost unsettling to me.
A whistle pierces the air, drawing my attention away from the girls.
“Well, well, well, it seems Cedarbrook’s favorite stray has come back for another visit,” says a voice loudly, from behind me.
Squaring my shoulders, I turn to face the person I know is talking to me. “Last stray before me was your mom, wasn’t it? So what does that say about you, Thornwood?” My comment silences everyone around us as I slide off my stool to go toe to toe with the man in front of me.
Signature red hair peeks out of his backwards ball cap, and the smirk he wears would be menacing to most.
Instead of waiting for him to strike back, I beat him to the punch. “Are you even old enough to be here? Last I checked, we don’t serve underage boys.” My tone is laced with a hint of amusement, but I see everyone around us tensing.
They all expect a full brawl to happen. My sister is tense, ready to go over the bar, and my uncle sits stiffly behind me, waiting to intervene before it really begins.
Instead of the punch they expect, though, he laughs, breaking the silence and tension. “Colt, we have got to work on your comebacks, man. The first one was good. That one? Dude, that was shit.” He keeps chuckling as we hug, slapping each other on the back.
“It’s good to see you too, Cash. How are you?” I laugh, while the room lets out a silent exhale.
“I’ve been good. Come play some pool with me.”
I nod, grabbing a beer for each of us, and make my way over to the pool table where he’s already racking the balls.
Peering up, he cracks a smirk, and I know nothing good is going to come out his mouth. “Sorry, I know you like playing with balls. Did you wanna rack them?”
Arching my brow, a laugh threatens to slip out. “Nah, it looks like you’re just as good with balls as me now. You can keep going.”
He rolls his eyes, chuckling, and finishes.
Grabbing a pool cue and chalking up, I ask, “You breaking?”
“I didn’t rack it just to give you the glory of breaking my balls, dude.” He shakes his head and lines up his pool cue.
Being as colorful as ever, he mutters a thousand variations of “fuck” under his breath when nothing lands in a pocket.
Shaking my head, I line up my pool cue and sink two different striped balls into the same pocket. “Guess that means I’m stripes. You’re solid.”
He nods, and the game gets underway, both of us bullshitting and catching up over cold beers.
After two rounds of pool and twelve beers, I can’t see a big difference between solids and stripes, but we’re having fun anyway.
Joan Jett comes blaring over the speakers, and the look on Cash’s face is the only warning I get before he’s on top of the pool table, screaming,“‘I love Rock ’n Roll’! Colt! Come up here, buddy!“ Cash puts his arms out to me, clearly shit-faced.
“No, dude, come down. You’re going to get both of us in trouble.” I start tugging on his arm to get him down, thinking of what I can say to keep his feet on the ground before Aria gets over here and beats us both.
An idea hits, so I finish yanking him to the floor and word vomit, “So, my aunt conspired with your mom,shocker,and got me a job on the ranch. Did you hear?”
Cash looks at me, puzzled, goes to speak, but clams up as my sister walks over.
