Page 25 of Not Even A Mouse
“Hey, Bex.” Andy smiled as Bexley walked towards where he stood at the end of the bar. No, scratch that. She wasn’t walking, she was stalking. “What are you drinking tonight?”
“In here? Where my kind aren’t welcome? Nothing.” Head high, she delivered the blow and watched him with intensity.
“What? What do you mean?” He knew. Myron had talked about their argument, and now Bexley knew. That meant Brute probably knew, too. Other than Myron, Brute was the member he’d bonded with best. They weren’t the same, their situations too different to be similar, but he still understood a lot of what drove Brute. Being an oddity, like a scarred combat veteran—or a gay man in a mostly straight town,it was exhausting to be on display all the time.
“You know, the dangerous biker kind? Those bikers who saved me? The ones who make sure hundreds of kids get toys at Christmas, and who paid for the funeral for that homeless veteran last month? The same ones who ride to raise money to combat suicide, and bullying, and cancer? Yeah, those kind. That’s what I meant.” She flipped her hair, drawingto her full height, her expression furious. “I’m going to take what you said as notice that you don’t want us in this bar anymore. I just wanted to come and tell you that you’re wrong, and to point out that in my opinion, you’ve just passed on the chance at probably the best man you could ever have.”
She wasn’t wrong. He’d known a half a second after opening his mouth that he’d gone about itall the wrong way. “I miss him.” Bexley blinked, and Andy realized he’d said that aloud.In for a penny, he thought. “Tell me how to make it right.”
She stared at him as if daring him to retreat, and Andy stood his ground.Please, Bex. Help me fix this.
Slowly, a smile spread across her face, lips curling at the corners as she muttered, “That’s more like it.”
