Page 9 of Hard Knock Hero

So I pulled around to the lot behind the bar, parked, and stomped the snow off my boots on my way inside.

A few faces glanced up from the bar. One of them was Jessi’s. She sighed as I made my way to the barstool two down from hers. I took off my jacket, laid it over my stool, and sat.

“You’re still here,” she said, looking into a glass of amber liquid.

It was warm in here. Both the air and all the wood. Wood bar top, wood paneling on the walls, wood floors. “Because the highway’s still blocked. I haven’t been following you, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I wasn’t.”

The bartender gave me the hairy eyeball as he wiped a glass with a towel. “Jessi, that guy bothering you?” he called out.

“No, Marco. I’m good. I know him. Kinda.”

I huffed a small laugh.

When I glanced over at her again, Jessi was staring. “You’re smiling. A real one. Oh, never mind. There it goes.”

“I smile enough. Maybe the rest of the world smiles too much.”

The humor abruptly left her eyes. “You’re right about that.” She knocked back the rest of her drink and grimaced.

Now I felt like the jerk my siblings often accused me of being. “Can I buy you a round?”

“No, I’ll buy you one.” Jessi lifted her hand. “Marco, two more doubles please. On my tab.”

She scooted over by one seat, taking the stool next to me.

I pushed my sleeves onto my forearms, getting comfortable. “What’re we drinking?”

“Well whisky. Neat.”

“Fitting for a saloon.

“It’s that HartleyHistoric Charm. Registered trademark. All rights reserved.”

I chuckled.

“Wow, another one,” she said. “You mustreallyfeel sorry for me.”

“I never said I was sorry. Definitely not sorryforyou.”

Marco brought over the whiskey bottle and a low-ball glass. It clattered on the bar top. Liquor sloshed into my glass, then Jessi’s. I reached for mine.

“Wait.” Her hand rested on my wrist, but the touch vanished almost immediately. “Aiden.” She cleared her throat. It was the first time she’d said my name.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for helping me earlier. I freaked out because…” Her voice dipped even lower. She shifted infinitesimally closer to me, enough that the hairs of my arms brushed the hairs of hers, causing an electric charge to zip through my entire body. “Because I’m in a bad situation, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Can’t you ask your friends for help? Like Marco?” I nodded toward the bartender, who had retreated to the other side of the bar and was watching an old football game on cable.

“No. That’s not… I’m not asking for help or your pity or anything at all. I just wanted to say you were right. Chester would’ve hit me. And I’m glad you hit him instead. That’s all.” She took a deep breath. In. Out. Like it hadn’t been easy to say all those words.

I raised my glass. “To cleaning up messes?” I suggested, hoping she got my meaning, even thoughIwasn’t totally sure what I meant.

Her gaze held mine. Dark blue, like a lake that’s too deep to see the bottom. “To standing your ground. Even when it might be a mistake.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

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