Page 2 of Every Heartbeat After

“Or give ’em a gentlemanly approach and a nice compliment that doesn’t involve the threat of jail.” Zoey pinches my cheek as she skirts past me. “See how that works out for you.”

“Don’t you have other patrons to bother?” I grumble.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going,” she tosses over her shoulder. She heads for a table of bankers in the corner booth, all dressed in polos and pressed slacks that have lost a bit of their crispness thanks to a long day of desk warming.

I scan the rest of the crowd. Mostly locals, which is surprising for a Friday in the dead of summer. The far wall is filled with booths, and high-tops dot the expanse of hardwood between them and the bar where I sit. In lieu of normal decorations, plants fill every bit of open space. If there’s one thing I know about Zoey, it’s that her thumb is evergreen.

The room buzzes with energy. Everyone’s excited for the weekend. Ready to hit the mountains or go soak in a lake or just waste away in front of their televisions. They’ve all got somebody. A coworker to nudge while animatedly recounting the day’s watercooler talk. A partner to wrap an arm around and pull in close. A friend to send cookies home for while she cares for her newborns.

Loveless and all its lovely people have welcomed me in as much as anyone. Still, I can’t help but feel other. Set apart.

I rub at the knot in my chest. It’s this fucking day that’s got me all sentimental. Every year I feel it coming on like a migraine. It’s probably for the best if I don't bring anybody home with me. What I need is a cold shower and a nightcap. Then I can ignore the inevitable pity text from my parents as I scroll through the pictures I only let myself look at once a year, to remind myself why it’s better this way.

Better she cheated, so I could end it before we did something stupid like add a kid to the mix. Better I don’t visit my parents, so I can’t see the disappointment written all over their faces. Better to be alone, so I can’t be hurt like that again. On what would be our wedding anniversary, it’s important to remember all the reasons this is the way things have to be.

“What are you moping about, Rookie?”

I blink away the haze that had filled my vision, revealing my boss, Tomas, and his best friend, Gary. The two of them together are a show in opposites. Gary, with his shiny, bald head, short stature, and white Santa beard. Tomas meanwhile stands nearly as tall as me at six feet, with close-cropped dark hair that’s gone silver at the temples and deep wrinkles embedded in the tawny skin of his face. He’s still in his uniform, though he should’ve been off hours ago.

“Not moping. Just thinking.” I drag my gaze over his person pointedly. “Didn’t have time to change?”

“Had to take this one to PT a few towns over.” Tomas elbows Gary. “One step closer to getting that boot off.”

My gaze drops to said boot, which is currently propped on one of those orthopedic scooters that someone—I’m betting Zoey—has decked out in plant stickers. “How’d you do that again?”

“Fishing incident.” Gary waves a hand, rolls over, and takes a seat on the stool beside me. His right foot is more of a club than an appendage at the moment, with the medical boot immobilizing his leg from toe to knee. “I don’t like to talk about it. Real traumatic.”

I quirk a brow, and Tomas snorts.

“Is the trauma more closely related to snapping your ankle tripping over a fallen log or the size of that trout you let get away?”

“It would’ve broken records,” Gary mock-cries, slamming a fist against the counter.

“Funny how all the fish that got away were record setters,” I goad, elbowing the old man.

“Same with women,” Tomas says.

I scoff. “I don’t know aboutthat?—”

“He’s right,” Zoey interjects as she reclaims her spot behind the bar and begins assembling drinks. She meets my gaze and winks. “For example, that woman earlier set the record for fastest to reject you.”

“Ouch,” Gary says just as Tomas makes a sizzling sound through his teeth.

Satisfied with herself, Zoey tucks a curl behind her ear and cocks a brow at Gary. “You boys want anything?”

“Tomas’s wife is making dinner, actually,” Gary says. “So we can’t stay. Just wanted to check in that you’re still good to pick up Tess tomorrow?”

“Who’s Tess?” I ask.

“His niece,” Tomas explains.

“Shit.” Zoey grits her teeth, swiping a hand over her brow. “I’m so sorry, Gary. I completely forgot. What time does she land? Zander’s got this training course all weekend and that other guy we hired quit with no notice, so I’m covering the bar tomorrow.”

“Let’s see, her flight gets in at…” Gary plucks a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket and places them low on the bridge of his nose. The light of his phone screen is reflected back, and I read the display at the same time he says, “Three thirty.”

“That’s right in the middle of dinner prep. I don’t think I can slip away,” she says, panic flashing in her blue gaze.

“Kit can go,” Tomas offers. “He’s covering a night shift for me tomorrow, so he’s not in till seven. And he’s got all night to get a head start on sleeping.”

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