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PROLOGUE
SHAWN
“Are you guys closed?”
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as a man approaches the bar, running his hands through his hair with a nervous look on his face.
“Just cleaning up, but what can I get ya?” I ask.
“Oh shit, I must look really bad if you’re willing to keep the bar open on New Year’s Eve,” he mutters.
“Technically it’s New Year’s Day,” I say on a chuckle, glancing back at the clock, which reads 12:45 a.m.
The guy looks down. “Ah, I’ll just go home.”
“No, no, stay. I’ll have a drink too. I could use one after tonight.”
He looks up at me gratefully. “Thanks, man. I’m Ryan Manning,” he says, sticking a hand out. “I’m a firefighter with Tahoe South—just got off a long call and could use a whiskey right about now.”
I hold out my hand. “Shawn Cha—” I stop myself, but it’s too late, he’s already put the pieces together.
“Holy shit.TheShawn Chase is serving me a drink. God, I’m a huge fan.” His face goes from somber to fucking delighted in two seconds flat.
I shake my head, avoiding the fanfare. “Just Shawn is fine. Trying to keep a low profile.”
He nods in understanding. “You had one hell of a season. Sorry about how it ended.”
“Don’t be,” I reply in my trained way, keeping my answer short in hopes that he’ll drop it. If I allow myself to think too long about what I’ve lost this year—my career, my life, my identity—I’ll go crazy.
Ryan must sense my spiral because he quickly changes the subject. “What’s with the dollars?” he asks, looking around the bar after I hand him his whiskey and clink my glass against his.
“Ah, people make wishes and put them on the dollar bills. The ladies who opened the bar—this place was their second chance, a place to start over. They wanted everyone who comes in here to think about what they’d want if they could have anything and write it down. Sort of put that energy out into the universe, I guess.” I scrub my hand against the back of my head.
Second chances…I wish.
Ryan’s phone rings, and he motions to it. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”
I nod.
When the screen lights up, so does his face. He goes from a semi-normal guy to a man with a hundred-watt smile.
“Happy New Year, Ry,” a woman cheers when he connects the video call.
“Happy New Year, Pix. How’s the party?”
I try not to be nosy, but it’s almost impossible with the guy sitting across from me at the bar. The woman on the other end has wild curly red hair, and she looks a bit tipsy and sweaty, but she’s smiling lazily at my new friend.
“Oh, just another night out in Boston,” she replies. The background noise fades a bit as she walks away from what looks like a crowd of people. “Oh, Ry, shit… Grace needs me. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
His smile only falters briefly. “’Kay, Tess. Please be careful.”
She pauses and looks directly into the camera, giving him a saucy wink. “Is that code for don’t go home with any strangers?”
The guy squeezes the phone. His knuckles turn white, but he doesn’t bat an eye. God, this is hard to watch. It’s like a train wreck I can’t look away from though.
“Yeah, Pix, get home safe. Give Grace my love, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She blows him a kiss and then the screen goes black. He stares at it for a few moments before clearing his throat when he realizes I’m still here.
