Page 32 of Outlaw Heartstrings
If I want to put my all into this recovery, I need to stay away from the booze. Even still, I could use a big, juicy hamburger right about now. So I follow Rocco and Lincoln through the front doors of this old tavern called The Whiskey Barrel.
The three of us manage to find seats at the counter andput in our orders. The girl behind the bar squints her big brown eyes at us and her mouth drops open. “Wait. The Raines boys?”
She looks familiar.
“Chloe? Chloe Chapman? No freaking way!” Rocco stretches an arm across the counter, slapping his palm against hers.
“You remember me?” Her smile goes wider and wider.
Lincoln grunts. “Of course we remember you. Oliver followed you around like a lost puppy all throughout high school.”
A wave of embarrassment rushes to Chloe’s eyes. “It wasn’t like that,” she laughs softly, dropping her gaze and grabbing a dirty rag to wipe the sticky counter. “Oli and I were best friends, and nothing more.”
Oli… I snort.
Chloe was the only one who ever got away with calling our youngest brother ‘Oli’.
Her eyes dart past our heads to scan the rest of the room. “Where is he? Is Oli here?” she asks hopefully.
“Nah. He’s out in Chicago,” Lincoln says, and we watch the way Chloe’s expression falls.
“But he’ll definitely come back for a visit sometime over the summer,” Rocco adds. “Especially when he hears we ran intoyou.”
I half-listen as Chloe catches my brothers up on some of the things we’ve missed over the years. A few people I remember from high school join the conversation. My old science teacher. A former teammate. Some kid from the church’s youth group who’s all grown up and legally allowed to drink now.
Sheesh. What a way to make me feel old.
The conversation continues around me. Apparently, myold classmate, Levi Brunson, is the sheriff in some neighboring town now. Arrow Iverson moved to California and sold The Local Social, the social networking app he designed that we were all crazy over back in the day. Rumor has it he’s a billionaire now.
When I’m not pretending to be watching the baseball game that’s playing on the screens above us, I just throw in the occasional grunt and nod along. But I’m not in the mood for small talk. So I pull my cap low over my eyes and let the people around me do most of the talking as my mind ruminates about Jagger and Alba.
By the time we’ve got our burgers and drinks, a group of random women have inserted themselves into the mix, shamelessly flirting with me and my brothers.
Nah. Not today.
Excusing myself, I grab my food and head to a free booth at the back.
Rocco seems to notice that I’m not myself. He follows me. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, settling across from me and chomping into a crunchy onion ring.
I try to shrug the question off. “Nothing,” I lie, focusing on my French fries.
Lincoln sets down his plate beside Rocco and leans across the table to inspect my face. “You’ve been a million miles away all afternoon. Barely said a word since we left the clinic.”
Clearly, Mom hasn’t mentioned anything about Jagger to the guys. I’m grateful for that. I momentarily consider keeping my mouth shut for a while longer, but I just can’t do it. If there’s anyone I can trust to help me make sense of everything that’s happening, it’s my brothers.
“I met up with Alba this morning,” I start, dropping my half-eaten burger down on my plate.
“Alba Anderson?” Rocco’s face lights up with a wolfish grin. “I’d bet she’s still a banger.”
I throw him a death glare.
He recoils in his seat, holding up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, there! What? What did I say?”
“Alba had some ‘news’ to share with me,” I go on, frowning at my plate and swallowing hard.
It must be my tone of voice when I say it, because Lincoln is immediately on high alert. “What news?” he asks suspiciously.
I look around before I continue, making sure we don’t have an audience. I lean in and lower my voice. “I…” I clear my throat. “I have a son…”
