A flash of defiancé sparked in me, and I gritted my teeth. “No. I’m okay. Just tryin’ to get my bearings.”
I said I’d go out, and I wasn’t a damn quitter. I could manage for a few hours.
“Here…can I at least help you?”
A warm hand settled in my right one, knotting through my fingers. Her already familiar scent drifted on the breeze. It settled around me, soothing some of my pent up frustration and worry.
I nodded.
She led me forward, careful to go slow, telling me where I was and the layout as we went. A lump lodged in my throat. I hated feeling so hopeless, but having her help—no one did that. Not that I really gave many a chance, but still.
She couldn’t possibly know what her kindness did to me.
“I think they’re heading for the pool tables, did you want to go with them?” she asked.
“How crowded does it look over there?”
I let the poppy country music wash over me, along with the familiar sounds and smells of the bar. I might not know the layout of this one, but there was a familiarity here. They all reeked of spilt liquor and the faint smell of cigarettes—even the ones you couldn’t smoke in.
“It’s pretty busy,” she said over the music.
“What about the bar?” I asked, glancing to the left, trying to make sense of the layout Quinn had described.
“Basically empty. There’s a couple at the other end, but that’s it.”
I nodded. “Wanna get a drink?”
“Sure.”
I let her lead me forward. She went slowly, carefully, and I appreciated that. I hated nothing more than tripping over myself and looking like an idiot. I’d be damned if I used a fucking walking stick, and going slow was the only way I could get around. So opposite out how I’d been before. A knot of sadness sprung to life in my chest, but it didn’t last long. Not as Quinn’s soft voice cut through the chaos.
“Here’s a stool right ahead of you.” She guided my hand toward the seat. I didn’t normally like having help doing things like this, but, I don’t know, there was something about how gentle she was that I didn’t really mind right now.
I managed to get situated in my seat when a sultry, feminine voice sounded from before me. “Hi, y’all. What can I get ya?”
“What’dya want?” I asked, reaching my right hand out toward where I thought Quinn was, coming into contact with her bare thigh. Something stirred in me. Damn, I hadn’t meant to do that.
She didn’t push my hand away, but I didn’t miss the sharp hiss that escaped her. I wondered if that was good or bad. “Um…can I get a mudslide, please?”
I balked at that. A mudslide? Really? What was she, twelve?
“Can I see your I.D., miss?”
Huh. I wondered how young she was. She sounded young, but young enough to get carded? A trickled of worry stirred in my chest that I pushed back down.
“Sure.”
After a couple moments of silence, the waitress made a satisfactory sound and asked, “And you, sir?”
The worry knotted in my chest eased. Thank fuck she was over twenty-one. “I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks, please.”
“You got it.” The bartender’s words were already drifting away, like she was walking as she talked.
Even though I couldn’t see her, I turned to face Quinn in my seat. “A mudslide?” I scoffed. “Really?”
A soft laugh escaped her. “What? If I’m going to drink, I want it to taste good.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. "At least you got somethin’ with some whiskey in it.”
