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His arms are my comfort. They are my place to regain my strength. When he holds me, it rebuilds something deep inside me. At my lowest, he wraps his arms around me, and somehow it doesn’t feel like all is lost.
“It feels fucking good.”
I keep repeating it in my head as I make my way back to bed. The last thought I have before I finally fall asleep is: Yes, Morrison Caldwell, it does feel fucking good. Too bad I don’t have it in me to tell you that.
Morning comes all too soon. I have the late shift at the bar tonight, and Sally, who is off today, is lined up to start watching Marisa for me.
After I wash up and get ready for the day, something pulls at me to find Morrison. The more rooms I go past and can’t find him in, the more dread settles in my belly.
My mind races and panic fills me as I call him yet get no answer. Did I push him too far away? Did I just lose the only good thing in my life outside of my daughter?
Jagger is in the kitchen when I round the corner to check for Morrison. He pops in and out, but always takes the time to check on me and Marisa, making me feel accepted. Still, of the three brothers, I find him the moodiest and most unpredictable.
“Mornin’, Hailey.”
“Mornin’, Jagger. You haven’t by any chance seen Morrison, have you?”
“Yup—just got back from dropping him off at the airport. He left you the Escalade with a gas card in the glove box.”
“Airport? What do you mean, ‘airport’? Where the fuck did he go?”
Jagger gives me a grin. “That sassy mouth is hot, Hailey. My brothers are lucky bastards. They got two fine-ass women with spunk.”
I brush off what Jagger is saying about me being Morrison’s woman, unable to take time for that line of thinking right now. “Jagger, where did he go?”
“Where he always goes,” he plainly states, like this is all just common knowledge. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a week, two, tops. He doesn’t stay away long.”
A week, two, tops?
Until this moment, I haven’t thought about being away from Morrison. Since he came into my life, I haven’t had to think about him not being around, because . . . well, because he’s always been here.
He left without saying goodbye.
The thought stings.
Numbly, I move through my morning as Jagger takes off to do whatever it is that Jagger does. I know he trains and fights, but does the man have a regular job? I’m beginning to think they all work at the bar but also have their “side pieces,” as Jagger would say.
Throughout the morning I try to reach Morrison, but get only his voice mail. By the time of my shift that evening, I’m officially on edge.
“Jared, you know what’s fun about being sober?” Hendrix calls out, humor dancing in his eyes as he chats up the older man who is a staple at the end bar stool every night.
“Nothing, Caldwell, ain’t nothing good about that,” Jared retorts grumpily before turning his attention to Olivia. “Livi, what’s a man’s idea of a balanced diet?”
She giggles before answering, “I don’t know, J. What’s a man’s idea of a balanced diet?”
“A Miller Genuine Draft in each hand. Now make that shit happen for me, will ya, gorgeous?” He smiles at her, showing the genuine bond they share.
I have been introduced to Jared and know he officiated at Hendrix and Livi’s nuptials, but the man is far from warm and friendly. He won’t let me serve him yet. I haven’t earned it, he claims. I wish he would tell me what I need to do to be granted that honor.
“You,” he barks at me. “Morrison’s woman, come over here.”
I start to correct him, to tell him I’m not Morrison’s woman, but he speaks before I can. “When your man gets back, I got a joke for ya to give him. You ready?” he asks in all seriousness.
I nod, unsure of what he actually expects me to do. He reaches over and pulls me down by my shoulder, bringing my ear close to his face.
“How’s a casino like a woman?” he whispers, and I can’t help wondering where he is going with this. “Liquor in the front and poker in the back.”
My eyes grow big in shock as Livi giggles next to me, having heard every word he said.
“Think on that one and give it to our boy when he gets home from his tournament.”
“Tournament.” At the word, it all hits me. Instantly, I know where Morrison is, and I’m far from happy. This is my problem, not his.
Remembering where I am, I wipe the counter as I laugh at the joke, then continue on with my shift. I do what I do best—push it all down and keep going, even as the world crumbles around me. The night passes in a whirl of drinks and bar food. Once we close up, Livi sets a shot in front of me.
