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Charlie waved down a server to get another beer for me. As she turned, I caught a glimpse of an orange shirt behind her. It was a small town. It didn’t typically surprise me to see the same face twice in one day. Most of our regular customers were people we saw daily—at the post office, coffee shop, the local diner, and even here at the bar. They knew us by name. But this guy? I’d never seen him before and all of a sudden, he seemed to be everywhere.

I tipped my head in acknowledgement, and he returned the gesture before Charlie untwisted herself. The server reached over her shoulder to swipe away my empty bottle and put a new one in its place. The emerald green label contrasted Charlie’s dark blue one. I wrapped my hand around the frosted glass, thankful that it was ice cold. Blistering heat was normal in Georgia, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable. I sat back and enjoyed the breeze coming from the vent situated directly above me.

“You know where to find me if you want to talk about it right?” Charlie asked. I nodded and lifted my bottle to my lips. “It’s her loss. I’d fuck you.”

I choked, sputtering. Beer went up my nose, and down onto my shirt. “Ew, gross,” I spat between coughs and something that resembled a laugh. “That’s a horrible thought.”

Charlie shrugged. “Made you laugh.”

Sawyer had been gone suspiciously too long, so Charlie took our drinks and went to find him while I cleaned up. On the way to the restroom, I bumped into that guy again, muttering an apology. It seemed like everyone in town was at The Hole that night. Thinking it must have had something to do with the heat, I people-watched while I waited in line for the tiny, single-stalled bathroom. It felt silly to wait that long just for the sink, but it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be. Charlie and Sawyer argued outside the open door, but I couldn’t make out what either was saying.

Finally, my turn came, and I splashed my beer-soaked face with cold water. My dark t-shirt thankfully hid the stains, but I still wiped at it with a wet paper towel. Why? I had no fucking clue. But it distracted me from all the Grace nonsense.

I didn’t realize I’d spaced out until someone knocked on the door. Leaving the bathroom, I picked my way through the crowded bar and emerged into the sweltering heat to find Charlie. The flannel shirt came off as I passed through the doorway, and I tucked it into my back pocket. Charlie and Sawyer had moved away from the door, but they were still bickering like children.

“Look! He’s doing it again!” Sawyer slurred. How much had he had to drink?

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

Charlie groaned and threw a hand in the direction of the parking lot. “He thinks that guy has been staring at him all night.”

I followed the lazy gesture. Orange Shirt was leaning against a light post. Sure enough, he stared in our direction, but he wasn’t staring at Sawyer. Our eyes locked, and he ducked his gaze to his feet.

“He’s not looking at you,” I said matter-of-factly. I was used to being stared at, and I knew when someone was doing it. An uncharacteristic flush crept up my neck, and I ripped my attention away.

“Who the fuck asked you Martha Stewart?”

Sawyer’s voice was a little louder than I cared for, and his gaze was still fixed on Orange Shirt. The look in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

“He’s looking at me.” I was more than happy to take the heat if it meant that Sawyer would leave him alone. “He was in the shop earlier.”

As I finished my sentence, Charlie’s eyes widened. She shoved past me whispering, “You cannot be here right now.”

Confused, I slowly rotated to see who Charlie was talking to—and my heart dropped into my stomach.

Grace.

Charlie held her back by hands on her shoulders, but glossy, green eyes peered up at me. The air got thick and heavy. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I couldn’t breathe. If I thought returning home to an empty house after a breakup was bad, this was somehow worse. Even more so, it was clear that she hadn’t shown up to beg me to take her back

“JJ…”

The sound cut through me like a hot knife. I flashed back to the first time she’d ever called me that—in sophomore math class. Up until that afternoon, the nickname made my heart melt. In that instant, it made me want to run. I needed to get away. I’d never been one to get heated over things, but this entire ordeal had my blood boiling. It wasn’t until I felt the sting of pierced skin that I realized my nails were biting into my palms. Everything around us blurred. My sole focus was on her, and the look in her eyes.

She’d have anyone else fooled, but I knew better. She regretted nothing. If nothing else happened in the last nine years, I learned to read Grace in any given situation–especially after we’d had a fight. She wanted to explain herself, to justify her actions, hoping that I would forgive her. Unfortunately for her, I was in no mood to talk.

I was so wrapped up in the person standing in front of me, that I didn’t register when Charlie let her go. I couldn’t hear when Sawyer shouted a slur, and I couldn’t see him flying across the parking lot. It was only when Grace was distracted by a commotion in the parking lot that I snapped back to reality.

Charlie was scrabbling for any piece of her brother she could get her hands on, but Sawyer was in a rage. Knelt over, fists flying, he had some poor, undeserving person pinned underneath him—a person wearing a familiar orange T-shirt.

CHAPTER TWO

I had Sawyer’s shirt in my fists before I could blink. I couldn’t explain what came over me. I was seeing red. Hauling the drunken man to his feet, I tugged him away from his victim. Had he not been so shocked to see me standing there, I was sure he’d have taken me out.

“Go ahead,” I spat, setting him on his feet and giving him a rough shove for good measure. We were nose to nose. Someone behind him tried to call him off, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down. “Give me a reason to kick your ass.”

Before either of us could move, Charlie shoved her way between us and nudged me backward. Her attention was torn between the two of us, unsure of who to tend to first.

“Get him out of my sight before I pound his head into the gravel,” I snarled. Sawyer tried—and failed—to swing at me, but Charlie held her own.