Page 36 of Reclaimed Roots

Callaghan's Bar, with its neon beer signs and perpetual haze of stale cigarette smoke, was not the kind of establishment I frequented these days. But then that was sort of the point, wasn't it? To step outside my comfort zone, to embrace wildness and unpredictability.

"You're a bad influence," I said, bumping his hip with mine. "But fine, lead the way to the den of iniquity."

Hisloud, unrestrained laughter drew curious glances from passersby. I couldn't find it in myself to care. I already felt lighter, freer, than I had in ages.

The smell of stale beer hit me as we pushed through the battered door of the bar. A comforting wave of nostalgia washed over me. This place hadn't changed a bit since our high school days.

Of course, back then, it was about the thrill of doing something we weren't supposed to. Now, as I slid onto a cracked vinyl barstool beside Chase, it was more about seeking refuge. A temporary escape from the responsibilities and expectations that had been pressing down on me since the moment I crossed the town line into Sable Point.

"What'll it be, Choi?" Chase asked, shooting me his signature lopsided grin. "I'm buying, so go crazy."

I glanced at the chalkboard listing out the daily specials, mostly local craft beers and cheap domestics. I contemplated something fruity and sweet, a treat to sip and savor.

But deep down I craved something stronger. Something to numb the gnawing sense of dread that had been growing steadily for the past few days. The more time I spent working in my father's office, the less comfortable I felt.

"Whiskey," I said decisively, the word feeling deliciously illicit on my tongue. "Double, neat."

Chase's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't question it. He just flagged down the bartender—a hulking, bearded behemoth I didn't recognize—and placed our order.

"Damn, Nat," he murmured as the guy turned to grabour drinks. "I didn't realize you were such a badass these days."

I shrugged. "What can I say? The big city toughened me up."

He chuckled, and I relaxed a bit more. God, I'd missed this—the sense of being known and accepted without question or judgment. Not having to put on a show or be constantlyonlike I had to with Liam or my friends and coworkers in the city.

The bartender set our drinks down with a thunk, fixing me with an appraising look. I met his gaze steadily. "Thank you," I said, bringing the glass to my lips.

"I don't know you," the bartender said.

"What I think you meant to say was, 'you're welcome.'"

The whiskey set my throat ablaze in the most delicious way. I closed my eyes, savoring the slow bloom of heat.

When I opened them again, he was still staring. I stared back. This guy looked like he'd just walked off the set ofSons of Anarchy.Not sure what his beef was, but I didn't budge.

"Alright, Kai," Chase cut in. "Relax. This is Natalie. Just got back in town, but she's a native. Lived in Sable Point longer than you have."

"Yeah,Kai. I'm a native. Who are you?" Two more seconds of eye contact, then he turned on his heel and went about his duties without another word.

When my standoff with the biker bartender ended, Chase was watching me with a curious expression, like he was seeing me for the first time. I offered him a sly smile, feeling reckless and invincible. "What?" I took another slowsip from my tumbler. "You act like you've never seen a girl drink whiskey before."

He blinked then grinned, tipping his bottle of beer toward me. "You're full of surprises these days, Nat. I like it."

We clinked drinks. Then Chase launched into a story about some misadventure from his latest stint working on a commercial fishing boat. It was easy, hanging with him like this. Easy to let the worries and responsibilities fade into the background noise of a small-town dive. Easy to be this version of myself again, a little wild and completely carefree.

We drank and swapped stories, the whiskey loosening my tongue until I was laughing more freely than I had in years. At some point, Chase slid closer on the battered barstool and casually draped his arm over the back of my seat.

Alarm bells rang, but not fast or loud enough because the next thing I knew, Chase was kissing me. I froze, staring wide-eyed as the door of Callaghan's swung open and Jasper walked in.

Chapter Sixteen

JASPER

"Jasper, slow down!"

Can't.

If I slowed down, I might have killed someone.

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