Page 5 of Promise Me

I know exactly what he wants to say. I can practically see how he bites his cheek to hold back his comment.

It’s normal to have a flare-up.

Did you stretch it out?

How much water have you had?

You should stop working on your feet all day, every day, and relax.

Maybe you should?—

“Do you want some help?” Linc asks, cutting into my thoughts.

I chuckle. “Are you still trying to get on my payroll?”

“No, I’m trying to get my workout in so I can get to work, so the sooner you finish up here, the sooner I can do that.”

I laugh, grabbing the other clipboard and handing it to him.

“So eager to get to the job youlove.”

“You’re one to talk. Need I remind you it’s only 6:30? If anyone loves their job, it’s you.”

He gets to work counting bottles in fridge two, but I watch him for a moment, lost in thought.

The only job I’ve ever loved was taken from me in just seconds with a blade to the back of my knee.

I went from being the highest-paid hockey player in the country to the guy who moved back to his small town and opened a bar.

I’m the biggest fucking cliché there is.

And I sure hell don’t love anything about that.

My officeofficially smells like a bottle of Icy Hot exploded.

I change out of my workout clothes and into jeans and a black T-shirt before heading to the front of the bar. The lunch hour started an hour ago. My employees don’t need me, but I like to be around. I grew up in this town, and even though I’m not thrilled to be back under these circumstances, I still love this place and most of the people who live here.

I hobble my way to the entrance, waving hello to my childhood neighbors and the local pharmacist sitting behind them.

The regulars love routine like it’s a drug. Nothing will take it from them—not the busy tourist season and sure as hell not a packed house on the Fourth of July, where the wait is more than an hour.

I step out front of the building and find Betty, my bar manager, finishing the chalkboard sign.

“How does it look?” she asks. She stands back in army green shorts and a black shirt similar to mine and places her hands on her hips. “Too many flowers?”

I examine the sign, grinning at her impeccable artwork.

“Someone is going to see your talent one day and steal you away from me.”

She snorts. “Don’t worry, Hudson, I’m not leaving.”

I open my mouth to say more because I’m not sure she knows how talented she is, but a flash of yellow moving across the street stops me.

Why is Linc back, and why does he have a for sale sign clutched under his arm?

“The sign looks great, Betty. I’ll be right back.”

Linc moves closer, his focus on the store next to me.

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