Page 70 of Let It Breathe
He stared at them for a moment, waiting to see if temptation would grab him by the throat and squeeze. It didn’t. There was a familiar tang of nostalgia, but he didn’t think it was the beer calling to him.
He felt his limbs start to relax and he picked up a menu to study it. He recognized a few new dishes, but it was mostly the same. There was something comforting in that. He set down the menu and tried to catch the eye of a passing waitress. There were none to be seen, and he wished he’d thought to bring a water bottle the way a lot of guys did. It would give him something to do with his hands, something to sip so the temptation didn’t creep up on him unexpectedly.
But his hands stayed steady and the scent of beer didn’t send his heart racing the way it used to. You’ve got this.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” said Patrick as he slid into the seat opposite Clay wearing a T-shirt that showed his ham-size biceps and misspelled tattoos. “Did you already order?”
“I’ve been trying to get someone’s attention, but no dice,” Clay said.
“Wow, they’re really packed. Guess it’s Friday night, huh?”
“That it is.”
Patrick grinned. “So, Clay, how have you been?”
“Good, really good. Things are really getting underway with the construction, so that feels positive.”
“You’re enjoying the job?”
“I am. There were some hiccups with the bid, but we’re working on it.”
“Good. Look, about the thing with the marijuana the other day. You know that if you need to talk about anything?—”
“Thank you,” Clay interrupted. “I appreciate that. But things are okay, really.”
Patrick frowned. “Drugs and alcohol in the same place? I’m not sure how I’d handle that myself.”
Clay swallowed and looked at the menu. “I’m handling it pretty well.”
“Are you the only one there who doesn’t drink?”
Clay considered that. “Probably.”
“That must be hard.”
“Not as hard as you’d think,” he said, resisting the urge to make a hard-on joke.
“What’s with the shit-eating grin?”
Clay looked up. “Nothing.” He shrugged. “Just something dumb I used to say. Old joke. Ancient history.”
Patrick studied him, and Clay fought the urge to look away. “You know, not everything from your past life needs to be shoved under the carpet.”
Clay felt his jaw clench. “What do you mean?”
“Just that it’s okay to cut out the things that were unhealthy, but keep the ones that were harmless parts of your personality. Your identity.”
Clay nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Patrick about Reese. It would feel good to confide in someone, to let him know how intensely the feelings had swirled around him since his return.
Maybe after he had a beer.
No. Not a beer. A plate of nachos, and maybe a Coke.
“I think the waitress forgot us,” Patrick said.
“No doubt. Why don’t I just go up to the bar and see if I can place an order there?”
