Page 18 of Bolt To Me
The streets near the hotel were glossy with recent rain, reflecting neon in long, fractured streaks. A block away, the kind of bar oil men favored on expense accounts loomed in warm amber light, the front lined with polished trucks and imported sedans. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of charred meat, cologne, and old bourbon.
And that was where he saw them. Jackson, his older brother, leaned back against the bar with the kind of easy authority that came from always being comfortable in his skin. Beside him, Luke Santana, dark-eyed, broad-shouldered, was talking with his hands in tight, deliberate movements that reminded Cory uncomfortably of Carli, his best friend. This was going to be an awkward conversation.
Jackson spotted him first, one brow lifting in surprise. “Well, hell. Look who decided to show his face in Dallas.”
Luke turned then, and for half a second his expression was unreadable, just a flat, assessing stare that made Cory feel like he’d walked into a meeting he hadn’t been invited to. “Didn’t know you were in town,” Luke said. His tone was polite, but it carried an undertone.
“Yeah,” Cory said, forcing his voice to stay even. Came in for some work meetings. Just… taking care of business.”
Jackson clapped him on the shoulder, grinning like the tension wasn’t there. “Well, now you’re here. Grab a drink. Sit a spell. We were just talking shop.”
But Cory caught the way Luke’s gaze lingered. The unspoken question hanging there: And how’s my sister?
Cory ordered a whiskey neat and tried to ignore the way the glass felt heavy in his hand. The conversation stayed safe, drilling rights, crude prices, and the latest pipeline rumors, but Cory could feel Luke’s eyes on him between sips. And beneath all of it, that gnawing question in his mind: When I get back to Willow Creek, will she even want me there?
The whiskey was smooth, richer than it needed to be, its heat blooming in Cory’s chest before tapering off into something that didn’t quite take the edge off. Jackson had turned toward a man in a blue suit, some pipeline consultant he knew from Houston, and was already knee-deep in a story about an offshore drilling disaster. That left Luke watching Cory in that steady, unflinching way of his, elbow propped on the polished bar rail, the faintest smirk curling one corner of his mouth like he already knew the punchline to a joke Cory hadn’t realized he was telling.
“You’ve been hard to reach,” Luke said finally. It wasn’t an accusation. It was just a statement. Simple. Clean. Still, Cory felt it land.
“Been busy,” Cory replied, shifting his weight against the bar. The leather of his jacket creaked faintly in the low light.
Luke took a slow sip of his beer, never looking away. “Yeah. I heard. Aunt Rosie called.”
Cory felt his jaw tighten before he could stop it. “Rosie?”
“She said Carli’s been… off. Something about needing space and looking for a place to land,” Luke continued, voice even but carrying just enough weight to make it clear this wasn’t casual conversation. “Didn’t say much more than that, but she didn’t have to. I know my sister.” He leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice without softening it. “And I know you.”
Cory looked away toward the rows of whiskey bottles lined up like soldiers under the backbar’s golden glow. Themirror caught his reflection, and he didn’t much like the man staring back. “Luke…”
“I’ve known you liked her since before you probably even admitted it to yourself,” Luke said, cutting in, his tone still calm but now carrying a quiet finality. “And I don’t care if you want to play dumb about it, but don’t play dumb about this. You left without saying goodbye. To her. You left the conversation between the two of you unfinished, and I don’t need the details to know she felt it.”
The words weren’t loud, but they were sharp enough to cut past the low murmur of voices, the clink of ice in glasses, the occasional bark of laughter from the far end of the bar. Cory’s fingers tightened around his glass. The amber liquid shifted, catching the light, making it look deeper, heavier. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that,” Cory said finally, his voice low. “I had work. Things…”
“Bullshit,” Luke said. Not angry. Just factual. “You had an out, and you took it.”
Cory’s throat worked, but he didn’t answer right away. The truth sat heavy in him, too solid to swallow. He thought about those shared mornings, about Carli warm against him, the weight of her head on his shoulder, the easy quiet between them, how it had felt like something dangerous. How he’d gotten out of his own, cold, empty bed and told himself he was doing the right thing, the responsible thing, the safe thing.
Luke let the silence linger for a beat before speaking again. “You know, she doesn’t need another man in her life who can’t stand still long enough to let her lean on him. She’s had enough of those.”
That one hit harder than he expected. Cory felt it in the gut, not because Luke had said it like a warning, but because he’d said it like a truth so obvious it barely needed voicing. “I’m not trying to run her life,” Cory said, his voice tight.
“No,” Luke replied, eyes still locked on him. “But you might be running from it. And you can tell yourself that’s noble if you want, but the end result’s the same. My sister is left holding the empty space you walked out of. And not for the first time.” Luke shifted and looked at his best friend. “Man, you just don’t see it, do you? Carli has always loved you. You were the one guy in her life, besides me, she could always count on and trust with every secret she didn’t dare tell anyone else. I don’t think it was coincidental that you were the one she found in the bar that day.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of the bar pressed in, the murmur of business talk, the scrape of chairs on tile, the bartender sliding another drink down the rail. Cory could feel his pulse in his fingertips, steady but heavier than it should have been.
Luke leaned back finally, giving him a slight nod that was more knowing than approving. “I’m not mad at you, Cory. If I were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in a bar. But you need to decide whether you’re going to be in her life or just passing through. She deserves to know the difference. But I will kick your ass if you hurt her. We aren’t teenagers anymore, but she’s still my baby sister.”
Cory didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, not without saying something he might not be able to take back. He just lifted his glass and took another drink, letting the whiskey burn down to where all the words he didn’t say were waiting.
Luke didn’t press. He just gave him one last look, steady, certain, the kind that said I see you, Hayes, before turning back toward Jackson and picking up the thread of pipeline gossip like the conversation had never happened.
But Cory couldn’t unhear it. Couldn’t shake the image Luke had planted, of Carli in Willow Creek, her life moving on, the space beside her already cooling. And for the first time sincehe’d gotten to Dallas, Cory wondered if the deals he’d come here to close were worth what he might be leaving behind.
When the Rain Comes
The wind didn’t just shift. It turned mean. The day had started beautifully but brisk, and Carli had gone into town to pick up a few things she wanted for a quiet weekend locked in the guesthouse while contemplating her life choices, watching rom-com movies with Ryan Reynolds, and eating all of the unhealthy snack foods she could while wallowing in self-doubt and missing Cory. Not that she’d mention that last part to anyone, least of all herself.
Carli froze on the top step of the market porch, one hand tight around her phone, the other gripping a paper bag of day-old muffins Josie had insisted she take. A minute ago, the sun had been shining so bright it kissed the top of her shoulders through her hoodie. Now? The light had gone strange. It was dim, yellowish-green, like the sky had swallowed something it wasn’t meant to. The clouds overhead spun and rolled like boiling smoke, layers thickening into something ominous and pulsing. The air smelled charged, metallic, as if the sky wereabout to split. The silence was the worst part, right before the sound hit.
