Page 28 of Boards & Betrayal

He raised an eyebrow. "It's called being a gentleman. Humor me."

His insistence was disarming, and despite myself, I found it charming. "Fine," I relented, unable to suppress a small smile."But only because most guys aren't gentlemen. And don’t expect me to make a habit of this."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied with a grin that sent warmth flooding through me. "Sounds like you dealt with an asshole."

I tossed Thomas a rag. "Use those skills I taught you and help me wipe down the bar," I said, flashing a smile. "Please."

He caught the rag with ease, but his eyes never left mine. "You avoiding the question?"

We started wiping down the bar, moving in tandem. The rhythm of cleaning provided a strange comfort. "It's complicated," I began, keeping my eyes on the counter. "He wasn't a bad guy, just... troubled."

"Sounds like the asshole needs discipline," Thomas muttered.

"Yeah, well, I guess his dad was never around and his mom..." My voice trailed off, unsure how much to reveal.

"What?" Thomas prompted, leaning in slightly.

"Well, they say never speak ill of people, but..." I hesitated, then shrugged.

"You didn't like her?"

"He was a mama's boy," I admitted.

"How long were you together?"

"Eight months," I said. "Serious, but not living together."

Thomas nodded, processing my words. "How was he? As a partner?"

"Partner?" I frowned, considering the term. "I don't think I'd use that word. Honestly, he was sweet. Good at what he did. But selfish. Every now and then, his temper..."

Thomas's jaw tightened. "Did he hit you?"

"No," I said quickly. "Never. But... When things were good, they were great. But when they weren't…" I smirked, but it was hallow. "I'm a redhead. I have a temper too. It wasn't just him,but… I didn't want to keep living in that up and down cycle, you know? Especially since he traveled for work a lot, and when he would get back, there was something he had an issue with. And then the cycle would start and I would promise myself I wouldn't be baited, but he knew exactly what to say…" I shook my head. "Sorry. I don't want to talk about him."

"Sounds like a pussy," Thomas muttered.

"A pussy?" I couldn't help but laugh at the bluntness of his words.

He looked at me, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. "Yeah. Only cowards use fear to control someone."

We continued wiping down the bar, our movements almost synchronized. The rag glided over the smooth surface, catching remnants of spilled drinks and crumbs. The rhythmic back-and-forth motion was oddly soothing, a temporary escape from the chaos of my thoughts.

"How did you end up here?" Thomas asked, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

I glanced at him, considering how much to reveal. "Needed a change of pace," I said, keeping it vague. "Photography isn't paying the bills yet, but it's my passion… what I'm going to school for."

He nodded, accepting my half-truth. "Photography, huh? What do you shoot?"

"People," I replied, focusing on a particularly stubborn spot on the bar. "Emotions, moments... Trying to capture something real."

Thomas paused, as if weighing his next words. "That sounds... intense."

I shrugged. "It can be. But it's also... therapeutic."

"Therapeutic?" he echoed, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yeah," I said, feeling a twinge of vulnerability creeping in. "Sometimes it's easier to see things through a lens than to face them head-on."

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