Page 40 of Homesick

I walk over to Blake and the first thing I notice is how adorable he looks leaning up against the wooden counter. I notice he’s let his facial hair grow a little longer than usual. It’s still trimmed up, but somehow it makes him even more irresistible. It makes it harder to remember the clean-shaven boy who broke my heart.

“Do you want another one?” I question, motioning to his empty beer bottle.

“No, I’m good. I will close out my tab, though.”

I bite my lip, tempted to ask about what he was talking to his mom about. I know it’s not my business anymore, but I can’t help but wonder.

“I’m sorry I walked in on your mom and you, earlier. It seemed like you were having a serious conversation,” I observe.

Blake’s entire body tenses up at the mention of his mom. His eyes search mine for clues about how much I might’ve heard. Before he speaks, he clears his throat, shaking off any hint that the topic makes him uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” he says before pausing to think for a moment. “She took this job to slow down, but it seems like she’s doing the opposite. I just worry about her.”

My mind travels back to a time when I was worried about her, too. There were a lot of moments after her cancer diagnosis that I tried to imagine my life without Sheila. Little did I know, I’d end up doing just that.

“Yeah,” I answer, not knowing what else to say without prying more. “So, you’re leaving then? The fireworks haven’t even started.”

Blake’s mouth tips up in a smile and my heart lurches forward.

“Do you want me to stay, Wren?”

Yes, I think quietly to myself. But I know I can’t say that.

“No,” I answer quickly. “I was just letting you know about the fireworks.”

My heart begins to race when I see a strange wave of emotions race across his face. Ultimately, he lands on shaping his lips into a tight, thin line. Blake’s smile is gone.

“Of course,” he says awkwardly.

I stare at him blankly, wondering if I should change my mind. Before our kiss last weekend, I had forgotten how good it felt to just sit and talk with Blake. Other than Emma, he was the one person I could tell anything to. I missed him more than I wanted to admit.

Blake clears his throat, pulling me out of my thought process.

“Can I get the check, Wren?”

“Oh, shit. Yes!”

I quickly spin around, almost crashing into the other bartender.

“Sorry, Macy,” I say before centering myself. “Hey, can you get Blake his check? I’m going to go and wipe down some empty tables while we’re slow.”

I navigate my way through the sea of drunken couples dancing to the slow tunes being cast into the room by the band outside. I don’t look back at Blake, desperate to create some space between us for the time being. If I don’t, I’m worried I’ll ask him to stay.

As I begin to mindlessly clean the empty tables, I feel a presence approach from behind. When I turn around, I expect it to be Blake and when I see it’s not, my stomach drops.

“What do you want, Adam?” I ask, throwing my hands on my hips.

His eyes are glazed over and he’s slightly swaying from side to side, trying to keep his balance. Key signs that he’s been over served either here or whatever hellhole he crawled out of.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind getting me a drink. You owe me for being such a raging bitch the other night,” he slurs.

Anger seethes from my pores at his words, but I keep my temper in check. The last thing I need is to get on the bad side of some drunk idiot.

“Look, it’s clear you’re shitfaced. I can’t get you another drink, but I’ll get you a water.”

Before I can walk away, his hand grips my forearm and traps me between him and the table pressing into my back. Adam towers over me and a mixture of fear and disgust creeps into my body from the smell of rum on his breath.

“That didn’t sound like an apology, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in closer.

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