My chest tightened, but I managed to give him a small smile. “I think he would be, Wade. From everything I’ve heard, he sounds like the kind of man who’d see the strength in what you’ve built. In who you’ve become.”
Wade’s lips quirked upward, though his eyes were still shadowed. “Thanks,Chèr. That means more than I can say.”
I reached out, my fingers brushing lightly against his arm, and for a brief moment, the air seemed to crackle with shared understanding. Whatever haunted Wade, it was part of him, likea thread in the tapestry of his life. And for reasons I couldn’t fully explain, I wanted to help him weave something beautiful from it.
Chapter Fourteen
It was Friday night and The Bourbon Bar was packed as tourists and locals mingled about the Big Easy. From the lovely music to the whiskey flowing, time slowed as people enjoyed the night.
Standing behind the bar, I nursed a whiskey as I watched the merriment, keeping my eyes on my woman as she laughed at something Juju said. There seemed to be some truce between us, like the lull before a storm. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I was thankful for it.
The Bourbon Bar was my sanctuary, a place where memories lingered in the polished wood and every bottle told a story. I stood behind the counter, my presence commanding even in the thrumming chaos of the night. My sharp eyes scanned the crowd, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at my lips as I watched the patrons revel in the easy rhythm of life.
It was a stark contrast to the heavy silence of earlier, when my past had seemed to rise like smoke to choke out the present. But here, amidst the laughter and music, I found solace. It wasn’t just the whiskey that eased my ache—though I’d be the first to admit it helped—but the camaraderie, the way the air seemed to hum with connection.
Devlyn had stayed close, her presence grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected. She leaned against the bar, her fingers tracing the rim of a glass, as if drawn to the heartbeat of the place. “You know,” she said, her tone light yet thoughtful, “I can see why this bar means so much to you. It’s got soul.”
I chuckled softly, the sound a low rumble. “It’s not just the bar—it’s the people. The stories they bring with them, the lives they lead. It’s a mix of chaos and harmony, just like the Big Easy itself.”
Devlyn met my gaze, her eyes flickering with curiosity. “Is that what keeps you here? The stories?”
I nodded, my fingers brushing over the counter. “Everyone’s got their reasons for comin’ to New Orleans. Some come to lose themselves, others to find what they’ve been missin’. Me? I stay because this city—it gives me life, even when it took everythin’ else.”
Her expression softened, and for a moment, her hand hovered near mine, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. The bar buzzed around us, oblivious to the quiet exchange that hung in the air.
But I didn’t linger in the shadows of the past for long. I straightened, a wicked grin spreading across my face as I called out to a group near the jukebox, “Hey, you! Don’ just stand there—let’s see if you’ve got what it takes to pick a song that won’ clear the room!”
The group laughed, one of them stepping forward in playful challenge, and just like that, the weight of the moment dissolved into the night’s jubilant energy. I winked at Devlyn, a subtle reassurance that I was fine, and the bar rolled on, vibrant and alive as ever, when the sounds of Otis Redding’s, “These Arms of Mine,” started playing on the jukebox.
“For your pretty lady, Gator!” a patron shouted as I tilted my head and held out my hand.
“Well?”
Smirking, Devlyn placed her hand in mine, and I pulled her toward the open floor. Gathering her in my arms, I held her close and let the music take us away.
The music wrapped around us like the sultry embrace of a Southern night, each note carving its way into the marrow of the moment. Devlyn’s laughter was soft, almost inaudible over Otis Redding’s croon, but it was there—a ripple of warmth that seemed to defy the chaos within me.
We moved, not with practiced steps but with something raw, something unspoken. Her gaze lingered on mine as though she could unravel me with just a look. “You surprise me, Wade,” she murmured, her voice a melody of intrigue. “For someone who thrives in wild abandon, you dance like someone who knows restraint.”
I chuckled, spinning her lightly before drawing her back into the curve of my arm. “Restraint’s just a different kind of rhythm,” I replied, letting the words slide out like molasses. “You’ve got to know when to let the music lead, and when to lead the music.”
Devlyn tilted her head thoughtfully, her lips curving into a smile that held secrets. “So, you’re saying life’s got its own jukebox?”
“Damn right,” I said, pulling her closer as the song swelled, its final moments settling around us like the aftertaste of bourbon. “But it’s not about what’s on the jukebox—it’s about whether you’ve got the guts to dance to it.”
The jukebox clicked, a new song spinning into the air, but this time I let Devlyn lead us off the floor, her hand slipping from mine as her laughter echoed between the rafters. The magic of the moment lingered even as the bar’s rhythm shifted back into a pulse of camaraderie and revelry.
The patrons cheered, some raising their glasses to us like we’d just painted the room with an unforgettable memory. I shot them a grin, catching sight of a familiar face near the entrance. Thore strode in, his leather jacket catching the gleam of The Bourbon Bar’s dim lights. He tipped his head toward me, the unspoken language of brotherhood thick in his expression.
As much as I relished the electric pulse of nights like this, I knew there were always threads of duty woven into the tapestry. The Bourbon Kings MC had their own tempo, their own dance, and I was their rhythm keeper. Tonight, though, the music of the bar had called louder, and I’d answered with reckless joy.
Devlyn’s eyes followed my gaze, her curiosity piqued. “Another story waiting to unfold?” she asked, her tone light but knowing.
I shrugged, the corners of my mouth tugging into a contented smirk. “Always. But for now? This is our song to savor.”
The hour was late as the last of the patrons stumbled out the doors, Juju wishing them a good night as he paid the cab driver to get them home safely. Back inside, brothers milled around saying nothing, and when Juju walked back into the bar and locked the door, I turned to Thore.
“What happened?”
