AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I nod slowly. “I’ve seen glimpses of that.”
“When Allie left, he was crushed—he loved her so much, and they were so alike. She and John were huge movie nerds, and I think that’s why the theater reflects so much of his personality—his passion for movies is all he has left of his mom.”
My heart aches. I hate that my mom was part of his heartbreak, but maybe we were meant to be part of each other’s lives to help each other heal.
“Thank you, Seren. You sharing all this means a lot.”
Serenity smiles, her face lighting up in a genuine way I’ve never seen. “Have you been to the Mexican place up the street? Happy hour starts soon, and they have the best margs.”
Fiona grins and claps her hands. “Hell yes. Welcome to the family, bitch.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHARLIE
It’s Sunday night, and I’m home for the long weekend. I step out onto the curb, thanking my Uber driver. Trey texted me to arrive at nine, and I’m an hour late, but I hate being on time for things like this. Somehow, I’m always the first person to arrive and then I sit there awkwardly until other people show up.
The air is chilly—cold and crisp with a gentle salty sea breeze that carries the sound of laughter up and down the streets. I cross at the crosswalk, stepping to the side to avoid the cigarette smoke from the couple in front of me.
The Beaver is a local favorite. It’s an old brick building on the corner of Maple Avenue. The sign over the door features a grinning beaver with cartoonishly large buck teeth clutching a beer mug overflowing with foam. There are several neon alcohol signs in the windows, some of them flickering obnoxiously as I approach. The prep-school townies call it a dive bar, but that doesn’t keep anyone away. And really, it’s pretty nice. Turns out rich kids are poor judges of character. Who knew?
It’s weird being able to enter legally. I came here all the time when I was in high school, tagging along with Seb and his buddies, but I have yet to show my face as a legit twenty-one-year-old. I walk in and spot a large, grumpy looking guy with a shaved head standing in the entryway checking IDs, and I smile.
“Hey Gus,” I say, just as he finishes scrutinizing a group of girls dressed in the skimpiest outfits I’ve ever seen—a bachelorette party from the looks of it. I shiver just looking at their bare arms and legs.
Don’t they know it’s still winter?
“Charlie!” Gus bellows, causing one of the girls to jump and glance back. His intimidating demeanor softens as his deep brown eyes meet mine. Gus has been security at The Beaver for years, and he’s a serious hard-ass most of the time, but he always looked the other way when it came to our group of friends—probably because we were pretty low-key trouble makers for underage drinkers.
He grabs my shoulders and pulls me in for a bear hug that has the air whooshing from my lungs, and then he pushes me back at arms length and looks me up and down with a wide grin. “It’s been too long, honey. You look beautiful. Finally here as an actual adult?” he asks with a wink.
I step back, laughing, and dig out my wallet, handing him my driver license. “Sure am,” I say.
“Wow, twenty-one, huh?” he says, looking at the photo and then back up at me. “Time flies.” I hear an annoyed huff behind me and glance back to see the line we’re holding up with our friendly reunion.
“I should get inside,” I say, waving apologetically at the group behind me.
Gus gives them a measured glare over my shoulder, and they fall quiet. I bite back a giggle. “Come see me later when things slow down, and we’ll catch up, got it?” he says, handing me back my ID. I take it from him with a nod.
“Sure thing, Gus.”
I breathe a sigh of relief at the rush of warm air skating over my skin as I enter the bar. I look around. Not much has changed, but they did replace the awful blue carpets with dark hardwoods, so the place looks a little less divey.
The walls are an electric jumble of knickknacks, metal signs, and local sports memorabilia—the town high school crests displayed proudly alongside Seahawks, Mariners, Kraken, and Sounders gear. There’s a wood burning stone fireplace lit on one wall, surrounded by comfy overstuffed leather chairs, and the bar itself is situated along the right side of the room. Tall tables dot the middle of the space, and in the back room, I can hear the loud clack of pool balls and the twerp of old school arcade games.
I don’t immediately see Trey or Lincoln, but I got the text earlier from Trey saying when they arrived, so I assume they’re in the back.
Nerves riot in my stomach as I consider again whether coming out tonight was a good idea. Whatever is between Lincoln, Trey, and me is pretty unconventional, and we aren’t at Whitmore right now. When I’m there, I have friends, a job, and I feel like myself—a whole person. But in Brighton, I’m nobody worth remembering. I’m Matt’s ex, Sebastian and Marcus’s kid sister, the daughter of a dead woman.
From what Seb told me and from what Link and Trey have shared, they were two years ahead of me and went to Washington Prep, which happens to be Brighton Prep’s cross-town rival. But those beautiful boys were somebodies in this town, and I have no doubt that our popularity statuses would have been vastly different had we actually crossed paths in high school.
I walk over to the bar and order my usual drink. The bartender is younger—probably in her late twenties—with pretty green eyes and short dirty-blonde hair. She smiles at me as shemakes my drink. “Are you home for the three-day weekend?” she asks, filling a glass with some ice.
I nod. “Home from Whitmore U.”
“You look familiar,” she says, using the nozzle to spray my Diet Pepsi. Then her smile widens as her eyes light up with recognition. “You’re Marcus Conner’s little sister.”
I smile politely, inwardly cringing at the way everyone seems to know everyone in a small town like this. It’s impossible to stay anonymous, which is pretty much my life goal, if I’m being honest.
