Chapter Fourteen
Noah
I BALL MY fists, muscles tense and ready for the fight. If you asked what we are fighting about, I couldn’t tell you. I’m too drunk.
Fuck.
I went to The Roadhouse with every intention of letting Joey know I’m still alive and well, and that I’ll be a dad in the winter. I had every intention of leaving after one drink.
Yet here I am, drunk and picking fights, just like before. Things aren’t just like before. I know that, even as wasted as I am.
The first punch is thrown and I duck out of the way. There is still time to end this, to walk away and go home to Lauren. But I’ve never walked away from a fight. I can’t do it now.
I hurl my arm forward, fist colliding with the side of the guy I’m fighting’s face. His name isn’t known; all I know is he did something to piss me off. Or maybe he hasn’t.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t on edge, if all this baby stuff hadn’t rattled me. Because it has. Baby aside, the more time I spend with Lauren, the clearer it is to me that I’m more in love with her than I thought.
And that fucking terrifies me.
I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to hurt her. And I don’t want to be a bad father, because that’s the worst thing I can do to her, right? Let her down and not take care of our child.
I rarely ever know what the fuck I’m doing in life. I race through things at a hundred miles an hour, and, somehow, they work out. Well, most of the time. There have been bumps along the way.
But when I know what I want, I get it. I’ve never had expectations for anyone else. Expect nothing, invest nothing, lose nothing. It’s been my philosophy for as long as I can remember. Have fun and fuck while I can. Live it up.
No expectations.
No rules.
No chance of getting hurt.
No chance of getting stuck in a loveless marriage with a child I didn’t want, a child I don’t want to be around. No chance of turning into my own father. A father whose emotions ranged from numb and drunk to angry and violent, with not much in between.
The guy stumbles back and crashes into a table, knocking beer bottles to the floor. Broken glass scatters along the ground. Fuck. Joey won’t press charges against me for damaging the bar, but I can’t avoid everything. Drunk and disorderly, public nuisance, the cops can get me for something.
I can’t do that to Lauren. I can’t do that to our baby.
Something inside of me protests as I whirl around and storm behind the bar. Something else inside of me trembles and I fear this is all for naught. I am completely in love with Lauren Winters, more so now than ever. If she doesn’t love me back, all this change will be for nothing.
But I’d be damned if I didn’t try.
I grab a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar.
“I think that’s enough.” Joey’s gruff voice is too loud in my ear. I blink, inhale, and turn around.
“What would you know?” I say to Joey. Or at least I think I said that. I’m swaying a bit on my feet, though hell if I admit that.
“Listen, kid,” Joey says and slaps me on the back, turning me away from the bar. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ll save that for another night. Find one of the stragglers, have her take you home and fuck you hard, then we’ll talk, all right?”
I grumble in response. I never got around to telling him about Lauren before I started drinking. “Can’t,” I slur, looking at the few women left at the bar this close to closing on a weeknight. “Gotta get back to Lauren.”
Joey raises an eyebrow. “You got someone steady?”
“In a way.” She’s not my girlfriend yet, but she will be.
He guides me to the bar to sit, then fills a plastic cup with water. “Have her come and get you.”
“No.” I shake my head. It’s too late to have Lauren leave the house. I think. Fuck. What time is it? I put the cup to my mouth and take a sip. And why the fuck am I drinking water? I’m not drunk. I can drive to Lauren’s. I want to see her. I need to see her.
I stand and pull my eyes from my pocket.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Joey asks.
“Home. To Lauren.”
Joey snatches the keys from my hand. He’s too spry for someone his age. It’s not fucking normal. Even drunk, I know not to argue with him.
“Give me your phone,” he says. I’m hit with tiredness as I pull my cell from my pocket. Maybe I am drunk after all. I put the phone in Joey’s hand.
Joey just shakes his head and disappears into the backroom. I go around the bar and fill a glass with whiskey, slowly sipping it. A minute later, he comes back and hands me my phone.
“You better buy her some flowers, boy,” he whispers. “Make it up to her. You don’t want to lose this one.”
No, I don’t. I can’t. Because it’s her I love, her I need. It’s always been her.