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But Bronson Rhodes was one of the few people who actually knew me well enough to call me out when I was in a shitty mood. He was the heir to an empire—Rhodes Hotels.
They were a worldwide brand, with one in every major city, though its humble beginnings came from right here in Boston, the first having been built downtown, possibly close to a hundred years ago. And the latest being finished in recent years, a few blocks over.
Tucking my cell between my shoulder and ear, I screwed the lid back on the tequila bottle and pushed it to the side. “What’s going on?”
“You got time to chat about next weekend?”
I glanced over at the clock on the wall. I’d already been in here longer than I anticipated. Valen was still sitting out in the car, waiting for me to wrap things up so we could get going to the surprise I promised. “Yeah, can you meet me at Liquor and Lumber?”
There was silence for a breath. “You’re going axe throwing?”
“Yeah.”
“On your own?”
“No.”
“What the—”
“It’s a long fucking story, man,” I cut in, unsure how I would explain the events that had transpired.
“I’ll make time,” he insisted with a laugh. “I’ll meet you there.”
“All right, see you soon.”
I made my way back into the bar, letting Aspen know I was heading out again. I was already halfway to the exit when I heard, “Reed!”
I paused, glancing back over my shoulder.
Dad and Christine were still at the table where I’d left them.
Jade, though, was nowhere to be found.
Dad had a pen in his hand, and when our eyes met, he made a point of scribbling in anger on the final page before holding it up in the air. “There. Happy?”
Happy?
Yeah.
So fucking happy to see the crater between my family and me crack open a little wider.
“Leave it at the bar,” I called back, ready to be done with this day and these people already.
I didn’t look back.
There was somewhere else I’d rather be.
And someone I’d rather be there with.
Chapter Eight
VALEN
“Liquor and Lumber?” I couldn’t say the name of the bar without laughing.
“Boston’s best-kept secret,” Reed insisted as he exited the car. I pulled the handle, getting out onto the curb as he rounded to my side, closing the car door behind me and offering me his arm.
I rolled my eyes at the gentlemanly gesture but still slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow, allowing him to lead the way. I wasn’t surprised when all eyes turned to us the moment we walked through the door of this axe-throwing bar, women and men both eyeing us from the fenced-off spaces around the room.
