Page 77 of Second Chance Saloon

“Is that you, Mitch?” a male voice asked from his left.

Mitch’s head slowly turned, and he rested his chin on his hand, elbow propped on the bar. It was heavier than he’d have liked. His hazy gaze settled on a face he knew he’d seen somewhere before but couldn’t place. His brow furrowed, his mind scrambling to come up with the name to attach to the man.

“You don’t remember me,” the man stated.

Mitch’s lips turned down in an apologetic, awkward smile. “Sorry.”

The man laughed. “Don’t worry, son. You had a rough flight when we met. Who knew we’d be in the same hotel, eh? Small peninsula.”

Mitch blinked, the cogs in his brain turning at high speed. “Bart! Bart, my man!” He clapped him on the back, delight lightening his features as he recognized the guy he met on the plane. “How are you?”

Bart chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m very well, thanks. How are you? Still drowning pieces of your heart, I see.”

Mitch waved his hand impatiently, reaching for the full shot glass that had materialized in front of him. He lifted it up to his lips and drained it in one gulp. Setting it back on the bar, he considered Bart’s statement. “It’s all over the fucking internet.”

“I saw.”

Mitch groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Wonderful.”

“I didn’t read any of it, but I saw the headlines. I’m not into exploiting people’s misery.”

“You might be the only one.”

Bart pressed his lips in a thin line, his eyes boring into Mitch’s profile. “How many shots have you had, son?”

Mitch’s spine prickled with an unwelcome sensation as he registered the word “son” after a small delay. Fragments of Tanner’s venomous words assaulted his memory, and he pushed his thumbs into his closed eyelids. Bart said “son” with so much feeling, so much warmth, that it sounded effortless. Like kindness and affection cost him nothing. Tanner, on the other hand, the man who should’ve always had his back and loved him unconditionally, managed to twist “son” into a mockery—an insult wrapped in a life of disappointments and crushed hopes. Whenever Tanner drawled “son”, Mitch’s heart cracked, like he knew that they both knew there was anything but love and concern to come in whatever he’d say next.

This was all so unimportant. He wasn’t meant to care about the internet or his father. That was the whole point of wandering into the poolside bar. Well, at least the idea was there; the execution left much to be desired.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Who knows. It’s my freaking honeymoon and I don’t have a wife,” he gave a strangled laugh.

“It’s her loss. Don’t waste your liver on her.”

“How about my sanity?’

Bart chuckled. “We do give that to women too willingly, don’t we?”

Mitch swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

But Eve wasn’t the one consuming him now.

Bart pushed his bar stool closer to him and leaned in. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s have three more shots, toast to broken hearts, and then you’ll get some sleep.”

Mitch raised his brow. “Why would you do that? You don’t know me.”

“I know you enough. Besides, we abandoned men got to stick together.”

He blinked at Bart, taking in his genuine concern and the simple kindness emitting from him like an aura. Damn it, he didn’t remind him of his piece-of-shit father. He reminded him of Jackie’s dad, who had always been kind to him.

Mitch shot him a genuine smile. “You’re all right, you know that, Bart?” He looked to the bartender. “Can we get six more tequila shots? Line them up, thanks.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

July, eleven years ago

Jackie

The summer before their senior year in college was unbearably hot, there was no doubt about it. Even though Jackie had grown up right here in Texas, this July was one for the record books.