He poured two fingers without a word. I knocked it back, enjoying the burn. The taste was cheap, but the pain was free.
There was a couple at the other end of the bar, fighting in hushed tones about someone’s mother. In the corner, a jukeboxplayed a song I couldn’t name, probably something that’d been on repeat here for twenty years. There was comfort in the monotony.
I stared at my reflection in the bar mirror, picking apart every flaw: the bruise on my jaw, the stubble that never quite lined up, the eyes that never looked as blue in real life as they did in other people’s stories. I tried to picture how I’d looked at Lily today—if there’d been any hint that I meant well, or if I’d just come off as some rich guy who wanted to fix her problems with money and a smile.
I ordered another whiskey. The bartender poured it slower this time, watching me with the patience of someone who’d seen every flavor of sad sack come through his doors. I raised the glass in his direction.
“To bad decisions,” I said.
He grunted, which I took as agreement.
I sat there, nursing the drink, letting the silence swell and break in gentle waves. Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the window panes. I thought about texting Lily, then decided against it. She deserved time to be mad, to feel what she needed to feel. I couldn’t take that away from her, no matter how much I wanted to make things right.
I was two sips in when the door banged open and a gust of cold air announced Walker Anderson’s arrival. He paused just inside, cowboy hat tipped back, hands on his hips like he’d just surveyed a whole new frontier.
He clocked me immediately, grinned, and zeroed in. Walker had always walked like the world was his own living room, and today was no different. He plopped onto the next barstool and gave the bartender a lazy point.
“Hey there, Ernie. I’ll have a Rainier and whatever this sad fella’s having.” He thumbed at me, then swung his arm around my shoulders, all casual. “Ford Brooks, man of the hour.”
I tried not to flinch. “Walker. What brings you in here this early? Don’t you have horses to tend to?”
“Got some time to kill before I take the new Mrs. Anderson aka Dr. Cressley. We’re goin’ to an early dinner out in Tanytown.” He made a show of rolling up his sleeves, which were already rolled. “Caroline said she was meeting your lady for coffee, come to think of it. So now I guess I get to bother you.”
I snorted. “You don’t need an excuse for that.”
He grinned wider and clinked his beer bottle against my glass. “Damn right.”
Walker and I used to get in trouble together. The kind of trouble that started with a dare and ended with a sheriff’s deputy driving you home to your furious mother. He’d always been the wild one, the risk-taker, but it turned out he was smarter and kinder than anyone had given him credit for.
“Looks like you’ve had a day,” he said, eying my glass. “Bad, or just spectacularly stupid?”
“Bit of both.”
He leaned back, propping his boots on the rung of the stool. “Well, hit me. What’s eatin’ you?”
I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to say it out loud. But if there was anyone who’d get it, it was Walker. He was the king of reckless decisions before he got with Caroline.
“I bought Lily a car,” I said, not looking at him.
He barked a laugh so loud the couple at the end turned to glare. “A car? Jesus, Ford, what is wrong with flowers?”
“She needed it,” I said, heat rising in my face. “You know she walks everywhere with Noah? I thought?—”
“You thought you’d just fix her life for her without talkin’ ‘bout it, huh?” He grinned, then took a long pull from his beer. “Classic city boy move.”
I bristled. “I’m not a city boy.”
“You been gone twenty years, bud. You’re a city boy now. You’re also an idiot, but we’ll circle back to that.” He eyed me, smirk still present but softer. “How’d she take it?”
“I think she was conflicted,” I admitted. “Told me off in front of Caroline, too.”
Walker whistled. “Damn. That’s impressive. Lily’s got a mean streak when she wants to.”
“She looked at me like I’d insulted her, not helped.”
Walker shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Because you did. You made it look like she couldn’t take care of herself or her son. Women hate that, man.”
I shot him a glare, but he just kept smiling. I took a drink, wishing it burned more.
