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I roll my eyes at her. “Forgetting that you’re here on work release as well?”
She rolls her lips between her teeth. “I was hoping you’d forget that part. Was it hot checks like me?”
She was jailed for forgery of a financial instrument, but it was the drugs she was on at the time when she changed the hundred-dollar check given to her by her employer to a thousand without making adjustments to the written line, that probably got her caught.
“I didn’t ask Jake for details, and you shouldn’t either. It’s not your job.”
She frowns. “You shouldn’t have said anything. Now I’m curious.”
“Remember how embarrassed you were when your parole officer stopped by to visit?”
She frowns. “She had no right. Everyone in town knows who she is.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “I’m sure the man just wants to work and leave that part of himself in the past. Let him.”
“Everything comes out in the wash,” Maude says, making me realize she’s been listening to our entire conversation.
My eyes dart toward the small digital clock under the bar. Thirty more minutes left on my shift.
“Make sure he doesn’t leave a pile of dishes in the sink. You’re opening tomorrow so you’ll be the one cleaning them up.”
She grumbles good-naturedly as she mixes Maude another drink.
The front door to the bar opens as I’m pulling a container of limes out of the mini fridge to restock the bar. Unlike how I used to be, I don’t look in that direction. Hoping gets me nowhere, so I’ve decided to stop wasting my time.
I nearly drop the container of limes when I turn back around to find Boomer sitting right in front of the garnish tray.
“Can I get a Coke?”
I stare at him as I take the top off the container of pre-cut limes, refilling that section of the garnish tray without saying a word.
“Only a little ice?” he asks, holding his finger and thumb about an inch apart.
I can’t decide if I want to kiss or smack the smile off his face, knowing I’d never honestly resort to violence.
Once the limes are full, I turn back to the mini fridge and grab the maraschino cherries, refilling those silently before making his drink.
I step away, helping another customer without a word, wanting to growl when I look back over at Boomer to see his glass is empty. The man always nurses his soda, making two last for hours.
I head back in his direction, my lips flat as I reach for his glass to refill it.
“Drake,” he says, grabbing my hand before I can pull it back.
I stare down at the connection, wondering how long it will take for him to realize he’s intentionally touching me in front of people. Granted, it’s only Maude sitting at the bar and she looks about ready to be poured into a cab, but still, we’re in public.
“I was wondering what time you got off.”
I lift my gaze from his hand on mine to his eyes, hating how my heart kicks up at the sight of his smiling face.
He pulls his hand back when the front door opens again, but his eyes never leave mine.
“I was thinking we could hang out.” He still affects me in the worst ways, I realize when his eyes drop to my lips.
I should tell him no, that he should kiss my ass, but I internalize my anger.
Maybe he was just busy today. Maybe I jumped to conclusions. It honestly wouldn’t be the first time.
“Half an hour,” I tell him, unable to hide my grin.
I refill his drink and then work on getting Maude a damn cab before she falls off the stool.
I’m walking on air the entire rest of my shift, but when I get off, Boomer doesn’t follow me upstairs.
I shoot him off a text after being in my apartment for a few minutes, anxious to see him.
Me: Did you change your mind?
Alex: Give me a few minutes. I want to make sure no one is going to see me come up there.
I know the man is battling his own demons, but the implication that he’s ashamed for others to know his plans for the night rubs me in all the wrong places.
I should text back and tell him never mind. I should be strong enough to take a stand and tell him this isn’t going to work for me, but I can’t manage it.
It has the same edge I came to recognize in therapy that I had with my ex. As I stand in the middle of my little apartment, growing more and more angry by the second, I realize trauma really is a vicious fucking cycle because I’m facing the same shit all over again.
Chapter 25
Boomer
I don’t get excited about many things. I’m the type of person who usually accepts things as they come, and they may upset me or make me smile. Every atom in my body is pinging around inside of me as my eyes dart back and forth.
