Page 24 of Waiting for Redemption

“You know what ladies, I was actually just coming to tell you it’s past the last call so you’re gonna have to leave,” I say forcing a dramatic pout.

“Come on Bethany, someone just posted they saw Blake Shelton on Broadway!” One of the girls exclaims while dragging her out the front door.

“Congratulations.” I wave with a smile as fake as my disappointment that they’re leaving plastered across my face. “Poor bastard,” I mumble as they exit.

“Last call! Pay your tabs and get the hell out of here you heathens!” I yell to the rest of the bar patrons with a genuine smile on my face. I can feel the anxiety I was actively shoving down begin to crawl up my chest as I walk back behind the bar.

“Wanna tell me why you made the last call an hour early,” Tank says, raising a brow at me.

“Nope. Wanna close the bar and do some shots?” I ask, pulling a bottle from the shelf.

“You don’t have to twist my arm.” He tosses the towel that lives on his shoulder most shifts onto the bar and starts closing out tabs. We waste no time getting people out the door and saying bye to the kitchen staff before locking up.

“Shall we?” He wags his eyebrows, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses before walking over to the pool table. I follow him over and sit down on the edge of the table as he pours us each a shot.

“Alright.” He clears his throat. “What do we toast to?”

“Heavy baggage we left behind.” I raise my glass and he nods mirroring my motion.

“Fucking cheers to that,” he says, tilting his head in agreement as we both down our shots. He’s completely unphased by the liquor as he fills our glasses to the brim again, and I take a moment to appreciate the friendship that’s developed between us.

Tank was the friend I never saw coming, and the one I couldn’t imagine not having around these days. Even though he can still be really closed off most of the time, and he struggles letting anyone get to know him on a deeper level, I still consider him one of my closest friends. He always works hard and has a way of showing up for me that I find respectable. There have been little moments over the last year or so that I thought he might be flirting with me—the way he invades my space to whisper something funny in my ear instead of letting everyone else hear, the heated stares or subtle winks he gives me here and there—but the man is so unreadable there’s a good chance it was all just in my head. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t exhilarated by the idea of him wanting me in that way though.

Do I date? No.

Do I steer clear of trouble at all costs to protect myself and Hendrix? Yes.

Do I think Tank Landry would be the most delicious kind of trouble? Absolutely I do.

But is it worth the risk? Letting someone in only to end up getting hurt again? No. It never will be. Because taking a chance like that wouldn’t only affect me, it would affect Hendrix too.

It’s still a nice fantasy though, to think he could see me that way. It’s been averydry five years for me. I would probably come apart just from sweet nothings being whispered in my ear at this point. Which is probably why after only three shots, I find myself staring at Tank like he could be my last meal. Or I could be his.

Speaking of, I probably should have eaten something before we started drinking.

“So what didsorority bridesay earlier that got to you so bad?” Tank asks, clearing my mind from any dirty thoughts I was on the verge of having about him.

“Was it that obvious?” I ask sarcastically.

“You shut the whole bar down after she walked in. What, did she sleep with your boyfriend or something?” He assumes as he pours more liquor into our glasses.

“Worse, she insulted my intelligence,” I say in disgust, throwing my shot back. The warmth of the liquor slides down my throat no longer leaving a tingle in its wake.

“What a bitch. Want me to go cut her hair?” He slams his shot glass down on the green felt playfully, making me laugh, and I realize two things.

One,he remembers the comment I made over ayearago about the woman who came into the bar and tripped me.

Two,he has the most devastatingly handsome smile I’ve ever seen. This is the first time in forever I’ve ever seen Tankreallysmile—and it’s a sight to behold. Unlike the little sarcastic or flirty smirks he typically gives, his straight, white teeth are on full display and it sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

Or maybe it’s the liquor.

I should really find some pretzels or something.

“No, I think we can let bygones be bygones with her.” I sigh.

“So,” he waves a hand of encouragement, “tell me what happened there.”

“Ugh. Can’t we just do another shot?” I groan, sliding my glass towards him on the table.

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