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Dane’s eyes narrow in on me. “What’s going on? Drinking this early in the day isn’t like you.”
“Too much to deal with,” I respond with a grimace. “I just wanna forget. Why don’t you help me with that?”
He lifts his eyebrow. “All right.” He lifts a hand, signaling for the bartender. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.” He lifts up two fingers. “We’ll take two.”
The redheaded, middle-aged man nods before grabbing the whiskey bottle off the top shelf.
For the next thirty minutes, we drink together in silence. My eyes remain trained on my glass, and he appears to watch whatever’s playing on the TV behind the bar. The silence is good. It’s why I chose this place.
This is the type of place you come to forget. Everyone within these walls has something they’re running from. Even Dane.
“You didn’t call me here to sit in silence,” Dane says, breaking the peaceful moment.
“I’m good with it. Just make sure I get home…” I shake my head. “No…not home… anywhere but there.”
He purses his lips, watching me far too close for my liking.
“What’s going on, Slate?”
“I no longer know what to think. Or how to even answer that question,” I admit. “You wouldn’t understand anyway.”
“Try me,” he says, never turning away from me. “We all have our secrets, Slate. You’re not the only one.”
I let out a deep sigh. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I find the beginning to be the easiest.”
I huff out a breath. “Shit, that would take forever.”
“I have time. No place to be.”
I pick up the glass, inspecting the rim, feeling wholly uncomfortable with Dane’s focus being on me.
“Does this have anything to do with Cassidy?”
“No. I don’t even know…”
I was about to say I don’t even know her, but I’m not sure how much I want to confide in Dane yet. I’m still trying to make my way through the mess.
As I think about all the shit that went down back at my house, all I can do is groan out, “Fuck!”
He nods as if he finally gets it. But I know without a doubt he doesn’t. How could he? It’s too complicated.
I never told him about Pip. Never told him about my home life at all, really.
“Your mom, then?” he asks, continuing to guess.
“No.” I lift my hand and run it through my hair. “But…yes.”
His head tilts to the side. “Not following at all, buddy. You lost me back at fuck.”
I huff out a humorless laugh. Not at Dane, but at the situation.
“It has to do with where I grew up. My past before hockey.”
“All right. I’ll bite…what secrets are you harboring, Slate? Is there a body we have to bury?”
For the first time since leaving my apartment, I laugh, but it only takes a second to dry up on my lips as I take a swig of my drink. I brought Dane here, and I should’ve known there were going to be questions. Hell, if I were him, I’d have already pried it from his mouth.
