I raise my brows.Try me, Bailey.
She’s fighting a smile as he walks back toward her, but her eyes are on me. Her smile is for me, our bond pulling taut between us.
I’ve felt this before. April, one year ago. We went out on the anniversary of my father’s death. Sienna insisted, but she was the one who ended up crying in the car on the way home. I spent my night making sure my siblings were okay. Goofing off, buying drinks, making jokes. And every time I looked up, Katie’s gaze would find mine and she’d tip her head.Okay?she seemed to be asking.Want help?
It’s the exact thing she offered the first month we met.Who makes sure you’re okay, Tristan? Could be me. If you want it.
The guy passes her what amounts to her third beer of the night. She’s not keeping track, but I’ll keep track for her.
He brushes a strand of hair out of her face. I feel like I’ve been shoved in the chest. The feeling is so potent it makes my vision blur as I watch her smile back.
What in the holy hell is happening to me?
“You good?”
I flick a glance at Amara, the bartender who’s seen me on at least five dates at this bar. She’s fifty and she should stick out like a sore thumb with her art teacher clothes and her quirky blue glasses. She can throw down with the best of them, though. I’ve seen it. She even has a bell behind that bar that she rings when she needs the bouncer to back her up.
I shrug. She refills my water with a smirk. “You have some admirers.” She tips her head toward three women clustered at the end of the bar. They’re darting me furtive glances, then giggling. I grimace, praying they don’t come over to talk to me.
“Not tonight,” I mutter.
She leans on the bar. “What’s your deal? You come here on all these dates. You turn it on for them. And then when no one’s looking, you drop the act. You seem lonely.”
“I’m not lonely.”
She pokes her tongue at the inside of her cheek. “Seems it. And you keep staring at the girl over there. If you want her so badly, ask her out.”
I snort. “She’s my best friend.”
“Ah.”
“What?”
She smiles at me before she grabs a beer, cracks it, then takes the proffered cash from the guy next to me. “You just figured out you like her.”
I blink. “Like her?”
Amara bursts out laughing. “You seem like a smart guy. Of course you like her. You’re sitting over here staring at her date like you want to beat his head into the table. And you think you don’t like her.” She snorts, shaking her head.
Like Katie.
What if I did like Katie? Likethat? Would I act on it?
“How would I know?”
Amara squints at me. “How would you know what?”
“If I, ah…If I like her.” I rub a hand down my jeans, wishing this water were a beer, or maybe a glass of Old Kingdom.
“Mind you, I’m not speaking from recent experience,” she says. “Husband number two did a doozy on me. But in my experience, liking someone is like being continually knifed in the heart and hoping the next stab heals the hurt.”
I slide a finger through the condensation on the outside of my glass. “I don’t particularly want to feel that way.” I chance a glance at Amara, who is looking over my head. “In fact, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of not feeling at all.” I tap the wall of my chest.
“Might not have a choice there, buddy.”
My hand tightens on the water. “I proposed to her.” The words fall from my lips, and Amara stills before she grabs another beer. “She said no.”
“Ah.” She cracks it.
