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ChapterFourteen
Meredith
This is not good.
Nate won’t fight someone while we’re on a date, is he?
Nate cracks his knuckles menacingly, stalking toward a man I vaguely recognize.
What the heck is going on?
Everyone in the restaurant is watching. A few cowboys and bikers at the bar ease off their stools, looking like they’re preparing for a brawl if fists start flying.
A mother with a toddler and a preschool-age child scurry out the side door while one of the parents drops a wad of cash on the table and follows suit.
The only sound is Hank Williams, Sr., quietly crooning from the jukebox speakers.
I then recognize the man Nate is walking up to; I’ve seen him at Bean There. Every morning, in fact.
Everyone around the place is on high alert, and they seem to stiffen in their seats when the man with the laptop speaks first.
“Nate.” He nods politely, but there’s sneering in his voice.
“Charlie,” Nate replies.
Oh, shit. That’s the one everyone thinks is responsible for The Drop. Oh shit, shit, shit.
I shoot to my feet, but the barman speaks first. He’s the only one here who’s not worried, casually warning the guys as he wipes out a bar glass. “Take it outside, fellas.” He says this like he sees this sort of behavior every day.
“You got a lot of nerve showing your face.”
“Come on, Nate. You’re just sore because I’m competing with your girlfriend.”
Nate growls, pointing to me. “You owe her an apology.”
“I didn’t mean any harm,” Charlie says, putting up his hands in defense.
The barman has had enough. “I said outside, kids!”
Nate holds open the door. “After you, sir.”
Charlie moves past him. The second he’s outside, his face connects with a fist.
But it’s not Nate’s fist. It’s a man who looks like a fifty-year-old version of Nate, wearing a pale Stetson hat. The older man jabs a fist with dead aim, connecting with the side of Charlie’s nose. The younger man’s laptop clatters against the doorjamb, and Charlie stumbles backward into the bar.
Somewhere outside, a woman shouts angrily. “Jesse, I swear to god, if they take you to jail, I’m not bailing out your ass! You are fifty-five!”
Charlie clutches his face. “You almost broke my nose!”
The older man named Jesse looks positively feral. “If my wife’s name ever shows up on your piece of shit website again, you can count on me breaking more than your nose.”
“Dad, what the hell?” Nate cries.
Dad? Oh…oh shit.
ChapterFifteen
Nate
