Page 53 of Back in the Country
They’d taken a gamble on their “Adirondack-themed” bar with heavy wood beams and paintings of northern landscapes. It has a laid-back feel surrounding you as soon as you walk in the door. Also, there are some veryuniqueand seriously enforced rules that both got them bad reviews and usually a steady influx of patrons.
The first rule is that they only have local beers on tap. No bottled beer sits in the cooler, and you’ll never see anything mainstream here either. They want to support local, small-batch breweries native to Tennessee and on rare occasions something from across state lines.
For the most part, everyone loves the concept and looks forward to seeing what will be there the next time they go in. Marcus runs the bar most nights, but sometimes he’ll grab a pint and walk around and talk to the crowd.
Holly, on the other hand, runs the kitchen with an iron fist. She can always be heard yelling from behind the swinging doors about one thing or another. She is just as likely to wrap you in a hug as she is to cuff you on the back on the head if you say something she doesn’t like.
The second rule is her rule and it states“I cook what I cook and if you don’t like it, get out.”There are ten things on the menu at any given time, and she is unapologetic about it. Those items are written on chalkboards around the room.
My favorite is always the pizza—doesn’t matter what toppings she picks, I am always game to try it. She swears she’ll take her recipe to the grave, but man have we tried to get her to share it. Holly says that she couldn’t find a decent slice of pizza down here, and after several attempts she finally nailed it.
Otto tries to flirt the recipe out of her at least once a month, and each time it earns him a smile and a smack on the back of his head. I love those days.
Settling into seats at the bar, I sigh as the gravity of this moment settles over me. I’ve been craving the normalcy of having my best friend home again. Every time he left on deployment was like having all the oxygen snatched from my lungs. When we got the call that he’d been injured…there truly were no words for that.
“What can I get you boys?” Marcus asks from behind the bar.
He is not quite six feet tall but is fit with broad shoulders and a thick head of brown hair. He has an easy smile and kind but alert eyes that see just about everything from his spot behind the bar.
“I’ll take a Treefort, please.”
“Root beer, please.”
I eye Sorren, and he shrugs as Marcus moves to fill our drinks.
“It’s just better if I don’t.” I nod but I don’t press him. There are demons behind his eyes that he’s still fighting. I just pray that he’ll let me walk that journey with him.
Marcus returns with our drinks and holds his hand out to Sorren. I watch my best friend tense as he accepts Marcus’s hand. No words are exchanged, as their eyes stay locked on each other. A handshake and a single nod from the bartender speak louder than words ever could.
That gesture is meant as thanks to Sorren for his service to his country, and for everything that comes with it. It is an intense moment that even I can feel in my bones.
Sorren exhales heavily before taking a large sip of his drink.
We sit in companionable silence. It feels like old times, but so much has changed it’s hard to figure out what happens next. My beer is cold and refreshing, with bursts of citrus hitting my tongue.
“You going to tell me you’re sleeping with my sister?”
The bastard waited till I was mid-sip before asking the question, and his knowing smirk says he did it on purpose.
It takes more than a few attempts to recover from almost spitting my beer everywhere and damn near choking on it.
“That’s not…she’s more than that, Sorren.”
“I know.” He eyes me over his root beer. “I wouldn’t trust her with anyone but you.”
“So you’re just fucking with me?”
He shrugs. “I gave you plenty of time to tell me, but you were being a bitch about it.”
“I wasn’t being a bitch,” I mumble and take another, cautious, sip.
“You’ve been in love with my sister for a long time. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”
I watch him as I work the words around in my head. Anger is at war with relief as I try to come to terms with what he just said.
“So you’re cool with it?”
“Don’t hurt her, Way. She’s my life—even if she is driving me fuckin’ nuts,” he grumbles under his breath. “I know she’s grown up and I’m so fuckin’ proud of her, but a small part of me will always see her as that little girl.”
