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“Need another drink on that one, Hailey. I’m glad to see y’all happy. Gotta know I haven’t always kept the people close to me safe. I’m not dependable for that. Those Caldwell boys, though, they’ll keep an eye on ya.”
“Jared, in all the things I’ve been through, you’re one of the most dependable people I know.”
“Got a past, woman. It’s not one lined in jokes or fairy tales. It’s dark, it’s ugly, and it’s all my own doing.”
I pour him another shot and lean in. “Wanna talk about it?”
“When you can bring the dead back to life, then we can talk. Until then, just know you’re family to the Caldwells, and they’ll take care of you.”
“Well, Jared, you’re family to me now, and I wanna take care of you.”
“A different day, a different time, maybe things could be different. They aren’t, though, so we play the hand we’re dealt—much like you, little momma.” Jared smirks as he calls me by Morrison’s nickname for me. “When the cards in your hand are strong, hold on to them, don’t toss them aside and risk losing it all. Morrison is good. Hailey, play the hand with him and see where it goes—that’s all I’m trying to tell you.”
“You are a wise man, Jared.”
“Lived once, Hailey. Loved once, deeply. Lost it all . . . down a bottle, no less. I come here to escape it. Only, in you, I see this woman who’s beautiful, strong, independent, and scared out of her fucking mind. So, instead of drinking my day away and tossing around one-liners, I want to help you to see what everyone else can see in you. We’re all pulling for you to let down your guard, and at the same time not silently jump at your own damn shadow. Livi’s been there. She got through it, and you will, too.”
As I finish my shift, I think hard on Jared’s words. Livi and I have grown close over my time here. Her panty-wearing, ass-rubbing brand of “crazy,” as Hendrix calls it, is inspiring. I don’t know the details of her past, but I can see her future, and it’s full of hope, promise, and damn good things.
I sigh and whisper to the empty bar as I close up, “Oh, Momma, where are you to talk to now?”
“Feel the same way most days, Hailey.” This comes from Jagger, who rounds the corner behind the bar after locking up the cash till for the night.
I never stopped to think about this monumental, common thing I share with Morrison—we both lost our moms. Mine was far from perfect, but at the end of every single day, she was my best friend. We laughed, we talked until the sun came up more times than I can count, and in all the chaos, she never once let me feel alone. Even if she did convince me that being with Monte was a good thing, she was there to hold my hand and see me through the darkest times. I wasn’t alone until she was gone. Then Marisa came and filled my life once again. Only, Marisa doesn’t have the void of losing her mother, like Morrison and I do. I hope she is old and gray before she faces that kind of loss.
I look at Jagger intently as he pours himself a shot. When he does the same for me, I shake my head no and lift up my car keys.
“I see a lot of her in you,” he says before tossing back his drink.
“That so?”
“Yup. Momma was a sassy spitfire right to the end. She had fight, Hailey, real fight”—he beats against his chest—“the kind that comes from in here. You could’ve stayed with that Monte fucker, but you didn’t. You got out. You fought for your freedom, and more than that, you fought for your little girl. You got heart, Hailey.”
Tears fill my eyes. “I’m a mess, Jagger.”
“Not in the least bit. Gotta let people in, gotta let people help, Hailey. Morrison, he’ll give you the security you’ve never had, but you gotta want that.”
“I do, but—”
“But nothing. Has my brother ever not given you a choice? The way I see it, he’s let you walk away. He’s stood back and given you space while keeping you and little one safe. You got a good job that you’re good at, and you work hard. You got your own place. You got your little girl safe and sound, away from the asshole who helped make her. You are doing it all on your own. You let all of us in—Hendrix, Livi, me, and even Jared. Yet, you keep Morrison at a distance. I see it—you’ve got feelings, but you keep trying to fight them. Fight is good when it’s called for, but why fight the pull to Morrison? Why deny you both? You’re the dealer; you hold the cards in your hand.”
