Page 16 of I Wanna Be Your Lager

It’s dark outside when we arrive at Jake’s house in Harbor Highlands. It’s a modest ranch-style house, but it’s his. Unlike me, who has more debt than actual assets.

“Lucky for you, I cleaned out the spare bedroom, so you don’t need to sleep among stacks of boxes.” Jake sets my suitcase in the corner of the room.

Beige. So much beige everywhere. On the walls. The comforter on the bed. The curtains. There’s not even a variation of beige. It’s all the same shade. I never expected Jake to be an interior decorator, but a little splash of color goes a long way. An accent wall. Pillows. Art. Anything to make it less institutional and more cozy.

“Thanks. And thanks for picking me up.” I wrap my arms around his neck in a hug. His body tenses before resting a hand on my back. My brother’s never been a big hugger.

“I’ll let you get settled. I’m going to head back to the bar.” He spins out of my grasp and turns toward the door.

“Wait. You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. But I’ll see you in the morning. Help yourself to anything.”

“Oh. Alright.” Jake’s heavy footfalls grow quieter until I hear the door shut. I glance at my suitcase, not wanting to unpack. Instead, I flop down on the bed with my phone in hand. I wish I had Patrick’s phone number. He’s the one person I wouldn’t mind talking to right now. But nope. Instead, my inbox is spilling over with messages from the married asshole wondering where I am. Apparently, it would take a brick to the face for him to realize I’m done with him. I should have done that. I toss my phone to the other side of the bed. Crawling under the covers, I curl into a ball and drift off to a restless sleep.

TEN

FEELS LESS DEAD IN HERE

Eve

One thing I didn’t take into consideration when I detoured to Harbor Highlands was clothes. November in Florida consists of sun and warm temps. November in Minnesota, not so much. I rummage through my suitcase, trying to find anything that would resemble warmish clothing. Tucked away in a corner, I find a pair of fuzzy lined leggings and a cardigan that will have to do for now. I guess I’m going shopping. After I’m changed, I step out of the bedroom and spot Jake sitting at the kitchen table.

I prop a shoulder against the doorway, evaluating his mood. His permanent scowl doesn’t help me. “Who still reads the newspaper, anyway?”

Without looking up, he says, “I do.”

“You can find everything online.”

“I much prefer the peace and quiet while sitting here and flipping through the pages instead of being distracted by a pop-up of the next celebrity scandal.”

I cross my arms and bite my lips together. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re an eighty-year-old in a thirty-seven-year-old’s body.”

He folds the paper and sets it down. Finally, he glances up, a blank expression on his face. “What do you need?”

“Who said I needed anything?” I shrug.

“I know you. You’re standing in the doorway, arms folded, bursting at the seams to ask me something.”

My arms drop to my sides. “Fine. Can I borrow your truck for a couple of hours today?” On the counter, I spot a pot of coffee and a mug in the strainer next to the sink. As if I was on autopilot, my feet carry me to the opposite side of the kitchen. After I fill the mug, I rest my butt against the counter. With both hands wrapped around the mug, I take a sip of the hot coffee and frown. I now know what tar tastes like.

“For what?”

“I need to…” I can’t say buy clothes because that will give it away that my trip was unplanned. Desperately, I try to think of something else to tell him. “I forgot to bring extra feminine products.” That’s something Jake won’t have. I rest a hand on my stomach. “Being that time of the month?—”

“Yeah. Drop me off at Porter’s. Then you can take my truck. Plus, I can introduce you to everyone.”

“Sounds great.” My voice is extra chipper.

Jake continues to read the newspaper while I sip my coffee. Pulling my phone out of my cardigan pocket, I unlock it and scroll through the headlines of the latest celebrity scandals.

Jake pulls into the parking lot of Porter’s. This place looks different from when I saw it ten years ago. It’s no longer a rundown hole-in-the-wall bar but a well-established business—not something you’d find in a drug cartel movie to launder money through. My heart blooms with pride for my brother.Despite what he endured, he has done well for himself. I was eighteen when I left Harbor Highlands, expecting to find something bigger and better. For a while, I did. As they say, all good things must come to an end. Here’s my end. I’m back here single, jobless, and sleeping in my brother’s spare bedroom, contemplating what to do with my life because, as of now, nothing has gone to plan.

Jake strolls through the back door, and I’m only a few steps behind him. He gives me a mini tour, and in true Jake fashion, he uses as few words as possible. He points out the employee room, the storage room, and his office. I follow him down a hallway that opens up to the bar. Exposed wood beams and ductwork flow across the ceiling to create a modern industrial ambiance. It gives Porter’s so much personality, which contradicts Jake’s house. Clearly, it shows which one he cares about more. Behind the bar are two women, one with dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail and the other with her blonde hair twisted into a braid that dangles over her shoulder. Both are serving drinks to customers.

“Rylee, what are you doing here?” Jake asks.

The brunette’s head snaps up. “I asked Lach to switch shifts with me. Trey needs me to go with him to some work event this evening.”

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