Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“But, like, what if I’m a bad boy, Jose?” he teases with a wink. “Will I get spanked?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “I’m being serious here.”
“Fine. I’ll promise to stay here under one condition.”
“What’s the condition?”
“You promise to have a good, easy day at work and not worry about me so much,” he says, disarming me completely. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
I’m thankful when he sits back down on the couch and starts scrolling through the channels, and a calmness settles over me I haven’t felt in a long time.
Maybe we can do this. Maybe we can take it slow, find our way back, and get back on our feet.
Maybe everything is going to be all right.
I tell him goodbye with a kiss, grab my purse and keys, and head out the door with sardonic thoughts about looking to the future.
But no matter how much I wish there were, there’s no limit to bad luck.
50
Clay
Friday December 16th
“Looking good, Clay,” Tommy Franks says as I slide a beer across the bar. “Glad to see you up and moving. You gave us a scare there, man.”
After the accident and the emergency surgery where Dr. Sarens had to sew up my spleen, the bastard kept me in the hospital for what felt like forever. And once he discharged me, Josie rode my ass to take it easy and rest. But two days ago, after I followed up with my doctor and he removed the sutures in my abdomen, I finally convinced her that I was good enough to come back to work.
So, here I am, back to work. Back to living. Back to serving the people of Red Bridge their favorite booze. Thank fuck. A guy like me isn’t meant to sit on the couch and stare at the walls. Sitting still has never been my forte. I need to be out and about. Socializing. Mingling. Doing shit. And the one and only watering hole in town sure as shit isn’t meant to be closed for this long. The people were about ready to take to the fields for some good old-fashioned booze bonfires, zero degrees outside or not.
“Thanks, Tommy,” I tell him and clap my hand down on the bar. “Consider this one on the house, and I covered what you already had on your tab. Don’t know how I’ll ever repay you and Doug for what you did for me that night. Probably owe you my life.”
“Actually, I think you owe Josie your life,” Tommy says after he takes a sip of his beer. “She’s the one who kept you from bleeding out until we got there.”
“Next time you see her, mind telling her that for me?” I request. “Because every time I try to tell her, she acts like she didn’t do shit.”
“Oh, I will,” he says and stands up from his barstool with his beer in hand. “And how about the next time you get a shard of glass shoved in your stomach, you leave it in place until we get there?”
I laugh at that. “That was a pea-brained move, huh?”
Tommy grins. “Didn’t help you, that’s for damn sure.”
Note to everyone, if you ever find yourself in a situation where a shard of glass or some other object is hanging out of your body, leave it there and let an actual doctor decide what to do. Per Dr. Sarens, if I would’ve left the glass be, I wouldn’t have lost so much blood, and he wouldn’t have been sweating bullets in surgery.
“Cheers, man,” Tommy adds and lifts his beer in the air. “Glad to see you here and doing well.”
I offer a grateful nod, and he heads toward the pool tables. And for the next hour, I spend my time taking drink orders, chatting with regulars about the accident, and joking around with Marty Higgins and his wife Sheila.
It feels good. Being here, surrounded by some of my favorite people in Red Bridge. And it makes me think about Josie and our wedding and what an awesome time it’s going to be. I love this town and the people in it, and I can’t even imagine how much I would have missed out on if I’d stayed in fucking New York.
“Well, well, well…” I look up from the register to find Bennett striding toward an open barstool with a smiling Summer on his hip. I know toddlers aren’t traditionally brought into bars, but Summer isn’t just any toddler and The Country Club isn’t just any bar. It’d be different if Bennett were here to booze himself into oblivion, but that shit’s behind him. If he’s here, it’s solely for the company. “It sure is good to see you. How ya feeling?”
“Like a million bucks.”
“Yeah?” Bennett asks, surprise in his voice.
“Honestly? Yeah.” I nod and wipe off the bar with a clean rag before swinging it over my shoulder. “It’s good to be back in action.”