“Hard to bring you to the light when you chain yourself to the shadows.”
Tipping the glass back, I swallowed the rest of the liquid as I turned to face the mirror over the bar across from me.
“You’re welcome to stay with me if you need to, but I think you need to have a sit-down with your mom. Let her explain.”
“Since when have you and Beverly been so close?” I asked cynically.
“Since I was the only one who really listened.” Coach quieted, letting his words sink in. It was confirmation that he’d known what had been going on all along.
Fucking embarrassing to realize my coach absolutely knew what was happening behind closed doors. About the torment my mother and I suffered. At any other time, I’d be angry as hell that he didn’t help, but I remembered my attitude as a teen. I was a pompous asshole who acted out as a way to keep the attention there and away from the agony.
“Thanks for the offer,” I said as I gestured to the bartender again, offering to refill Coach’s as well. The burly man shook his head and slipped off the stool.
“I’ll be seeing you around, kid. Would love to have you stop by the school and meet some of the players. Would mean a lot to them.”
“You’re still coaching?”
“They’ll have to kill me before I stop,” he joked as he set a twenty on the bar. His drink was only a quarter of that amount. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Our ten-minute conversation felt like it lasted years. I was worn out, as if dragged through the mud in the rain and left outside to weather the storm.
“Maybe something stronger with this too? Shot of gin?”
The bartender went to work on the shot after setting my frothy refill in front of me in a new frosty mug. A second later, he set the one-ounce glass in front of me and moved to the other end of the bar, lifting a hinged portion of it to leave it unmanned.
Splaying my hands on the sticky bar top, I watched as the expanse of my fingers nearly reached the opposite edge. Having large hands made my job much easier, even with a mitt. Grabbing the shot glass, two of my fingers wrapped around the drink. It reminded me of one of the thimbles my mom wore on her finger when she used to have to patch my clothes, since we couldn’t afford new pairs of jeans and all mine had holes in them.
Fuck.
Thinking of my mom only depressed me more.
Tossing back the shot, I let the gin, which tasted awful, slip down my throat before chasing it with my beer.
I fucking hated liquor, but I needed something to take the edge off, and the beer wasn’t cutting it.
An obnoxious scent clouded around me, and I nearly coughed when the brunette who had fluffed her hair earlier sidled up beside me. She didn’t bother with the stool, instead wrapping her pink-tipped fingers around my forearm and pressing her breasts against my bicep. She was pretty. Even beneath all that makeup, she was probably still a knockout. But without even her making a suggestion, I knew my cock wasn’t interested. Which was a shame, because at least if I went home with her, I’d have a place to sleep tonight.
My mind started playing out different scenarios as she fluttered her lashes and pursed her lips. I could get her off and hope that my dick would come around. That was the best-case situation.
“Hi,” she finally said, licking her lips in invitation.
“Hey.”
“I’m Kasey. I’ve been waiting for my chance to come over here. You’re quite the popular fellow.”
“Owen, and I’m sorry about that. Just a few people wanting to catch up.” I smirked at her, but it felt off. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice.
Deciding she was my shot at a bed instead of sleeping in my car or at my old coach’s house, I played the part of the playboy. The part I perfected when I was drafted by the Coyotes. The part that got me the supermodel fiancée.
Ex-fiancée.
“Would you want to buy me a drink, Owen?”
I held back my sigh, not wanting her to notice how uninterested I was. Instead, I nodded just as the bartender returned and ordered her another dirty martini.
For a while, she droned on about her work—a teller at the bank, and her hobbies—watching reality television, specifically a show about marrying someone they just met. I did my best to feign interest, but I wouldn’t recall a single detail if she quizzed me later. But she continued to inch closer, something I wasn’t sure was possible, since her body was already pressed against mine.
The air shifted as the song on the jukebox changed, and I glanced up in the mirror to find my little nightmare stroll in. She was wearing the same pair of cutoff jeans that forced your eyes to gaze at her toned, tan legs. Even at her miniscule height, her legs looked like they went on for days. Tucked into the waistband was a loose white T-shirt, the neckline hanging off a bare shoulder. A pair of clean cowboy boots, these in much better condition than the ones she had on earlier, finished her ensemble.
Though it was a local pub, Aspen wasn’t dressed like the rest of the women in the bar. She was all casual, where the rest were dressed for finding a husband, or a night of fun. But even without trying, she was the most beautiful woman in the place.
Definitely couldn’t let that secret out. She’d hold it against me for all eternity.
I continued watching her in the mirror, chiming into my conversation with Kasey when necessary, but my mind was focused elsewhere. Specifically on the blonde sitting at a table in the corner with a friend who was staring at the group of suits near the pool tables.
They ordered drinks, and I was surprised when Aspen wanted a beer. She was the only female in the place that I could see without a cocktail of some sort.
Kasey must have noticed my wavering attention. Her nails sank into my skin, and my fist flexed out of reflex. Jerking my face in her direction, away from the mirror, I narrowed my gaze.
“Don’t,” I snapped harshly. It was my first reaction to the pain. Triggering a memory of someone gripping my arm, inflicting their strength over mine. I could only mask the fear with irritation.
Thankfully, Kasey was either too buzzed from the alcohol or too unobservant to notice. She perched her chin on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. I couldn’t make out a lot of what she was saying, but I picked up on a phrase or two, like “have fun in the bathroom.”
I was well past the college days of hooking up in a public bathroom.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Aspen’s friend stand up from the table and move down a hallway.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled to Kasey. “I see my friend. Enjoy your drink.”
