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My nap ran over.Or, rather, I ignored my alarm and slept for a solid hour after it went off. As a result, I was late.
“Fuck,” I groaned, stumbling into the bathroom to splash some water on my face. No time for another shower. I brushed my teeth, pulled my hair into a knot, tied a red and white bandana around my head and put in a large pair of hoop earrings to distract from the luggage I was carrying under my eyes.
I was still tugging on my coat as I pulled my front door closed and started down the stairs two at a time until I collided with a chest. I yelped as I landed on my ass.
“Fuck, sorry, sorry!” The owner of the chest said and a pair of hands pulled me up to standing. It was my new tall neighbor, who didn’t seem quite as tall now that I was a couple of steps above him.
“All good, but I gotta go.” Again we stepped the same way and he smiled. Huh, he’s cute. I took him by the shoulders and again said, “Stay.”
He obeyed. “I’m Brady, by the way!”
I didn’t bother responding, just bounded down to the street.
6
MACK
There wassomething about making pie crusts that I always found calming. Maybe it was the simplicity. Or the gratification of making something with my hands. Or maybe it was the fact that every year at Thanksgiving Chase ate a whole pie over the course of a couple of days and it made me so fucking proud my chest could burst. She loved that pie so much that she insisted I make one just for her, which naturally I did. She didn’t even cut it up, just sat it in the fridge and ate it straight from the dish.
I wanted to be the one to feed her that pie. To stand there beside her, in front of the open fridge with a fork in my hand and her eyes on me. I’d make her a pie every fucking day of the week if it made her happy. God I was a sap. I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to be there when she went to sleep and still there when she woke up in the morning.
Enough.
Enough pie. Enough Chase. I needed to get the fuck out of the house. I needed to stop thinking about Chase. The former I could achieve. The latter was probably a lost cause at this point. But it would be easier to ignore the constant thoughts if I stayed away from Rudi Blue, and wasn’t making her favorite pie.
When I walked into Buck’s, not quite an hour later, the brewery was buzzing with a boisterous Sunday afternoon crowd. It was similar to what I’d see at Rudi, but also different—not that I could quite put my finger on how. The whole place had an easy going, no nonsense vibe, helped along by the mismatched couches and low tables made of recycled pallets. The central bar was clad in old kitchen cabinet doors, in a muted and flaking rainbow of colors. It was run by a pair of brothers who Chase and I had liked as soon as we’d met them and, as a result, we’d been stocking their products since they opened a few years back.
I spotted Hunter, one of the brothers, behind the bar.
“Hey man,” he said as I approached.
“Hunter.” I slapped his outstretched hand.
“You got a night off? I’m surprised you could peel yourself away.” Like any well practiced bartender, he talked while still pouring beers and making change, most of which was deposited into one of the tip jars dotted around the bar. I was pretty sure I saw a phone number being slid his way on a napkin, too. The woman, who had added a bubblegum pink kiss mark under her digits, waited for Hunter to notice her not so subtle gesture then turned in a huff when it went ignored.
“It’s been out of control, but Chase would have kicked me out.” I didn’t bother mentioning that I needed to stay away for my own sanity, too.
“What can I get you?”
I ran an eye over the taps. “Whatever’s good.”
“Coming up.”
I leaned on the bar, casting an eye over the crowd when a familiar head of dark curls appeared beside me. Was there no escaping this woman?
“Well, well, well…” she purred, hazel eyes roaming over me.
“And what are you doing here?” I asked as Harley grinned up at me.
“You think Rudi Blue is my only haunt?” She replied with atsk, tsk.
“Considering two weeks ago I’d barely seen you, no.”
“Smart man.” She winked. “Hunter, can I have a cherry sour, please?”
“You got it Harls,” he said while delivering my pint. Of course they knew one another. I had a feeling Harley was the kind of person who knew everyone, you wouldn’t be able to walk a block without her saying hello to at least a handful of people.
“So…” She started as Hunter delivered her beer. They shared a fist bump and she took a sip before continuing. “How long have you been hung up on Chase?”
