Page 1 of Your Place or Mine

Chapter One

Callum

The door slammed shut behind me as the chipped glass panels rattled in their frames, and the muted hum of conversation died down. All eyes went to me, and I propped an apologetic smile on my face to my loyal customers. Within seconds, they went back to drinking beer and watching the game.

My brother, Drew, wiped down a glass with a rag that had seen better days and lifted a brow. “What’s got your boxers in a twist?”

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, my boots scuffed against the floor as I stalked toward the bar and shrugged off my worn leather jacket. I tossed it onto the nearest stool.

The weight of my bad mood was almost a physical presence, dark and heavy, like a mountain thunderstorm rolling in, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

The one thing I hated most in life was feeling helpless, and that was precisely what this news did to me.

“Pour me a double,” I growled, leaning both forearms on the bar. “Hell, make it a triple.”

“Sure. It’s your bar.” Drew whistled low but complied.

“Thanks, man.”

“You know, you should really learn to pace yourself. Your liver ain’t gonna thank you if you keep at it like this.” My brother smiled, but he wasn’t completely kidding.

I shot him a look that could’ve burned holes in the brick wall behind him. “Don’t start with me, Drew.”

“Alright, alright. Spill it. What happened? The old man at the feed store tells you off for parking your truck in front of his loading zone again?”

I tipped my head back and drained the whiskey in one go, slamming the glass down with enough force to make Drew shake his head.

My eyes connected with my brother's, and I shook my head. It was eerie how similar we looked. Growing up, everyone always thought we were twins. When we got older, it didn’t get much better. We both had dark hair and green eyes that looked more like a home for swamp animals than emeralds.

“Those damn Ludlowes. I knew they’d sell me out.” I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair.

“Ah,” Drew said knowingly. “This is a landlord problem. Proceed.”

“It’s not just a landlord problem. It’smyproblem.Ourproblem. Your problem. Hell, this whole damn town’s problem.”

Drew leaned on the counter, clearly amused, which only annoyed me more. I didn’t understand how Drew always saw the bright side in things when the truth was that the bright side happened to be the fire blazing in the background as the whole world went up in smoke.

“Well, maybe if you explained what the problem is, I could decide whether or not I give a damn.” Drew tapped his finger on the worn countertops. “You always get your panties in a ruffle.”

My brows lifted with surprise. “I do not.”

“You do but go on.”

I glared at him but relented. “The Ludlowes sold the building. The whole damn thing. Bar, shops, laundromat, bakery, apartments, storage—all of it.”

Drew frowned. “Huh. Thought they’d never sell. You’ve been renting this place for, what, eight years?”

“Ten,” I corrected. “And I’ve never missed a rent payment. I keep the bar running and don’t complain when the plumbing leaks or the heat goes to hell in February. Half the time, I’m the one who fixes the problem. I’ve been a good tenant, and they promised me that if they ever wanted to sell the place, I’d get a crack at it.”

“Ouch.” My brother glanced at the door as a few locals walked inside. “I’m sorry. That does suck.”

I looked around the bar that had become my second home.

The Rusty Stag looked more like a tired old mountain cabin than a proper bar, and that’s exactly how I liked it.

The wood-paneled walls bore decades of scuffs and scratches, each a story. The brick behind the bar made the place feel warm. The stone fireplace hadn’t worked in years, but damn if it didn’t make the place feel like home.

The rafters creaked in the wind, and the floorboards groaned under every step, but the scent of aged whiskey, old beer, and pine still clung to the air like a memory. Yeah, it needed a little sprucing up. Maybe more than a little. But it was mine. And it was perfect.

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