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The beer is cold and the head of it foams just right. It looks like a picture for a beer ad as it sits on the walnut bar of the Iron Heart Brewery on Lincoln and Church.

My back’s to the door as I sit at the far end of the bar, closest to the large glass window. I hear more people walk into the already crowded place, but I don’t pay any attention to the chatter. I just stare out of the window at the parking lot across the street.

“You want something else?” the bartender asks me, and when I look up at him, interrupting whatever thought was in my head, he nods to the untouched beer.

“Nah, I’m good,” I tell him and take a swig. Maybe I should ask for something stronger. Maybe I shouldn’t drink at all. I don’t fucking know. I don’t know shit and that’s all I know for sure.

“All the way out here?” I hear a voice too close for comfort and turn around to see Daniel sliding onto the barstool next to me.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” he tells the bartender and then squares his shoulders forward and squints like he’s looking up at the menu.

“Some funny names for beer,” he says absently.

“All local drafts,” I tell him.

“Is that why you came all the way out here?” he asks me and I turn my gaze back to my beer and then take a long swig. I’m here because it’s right around the corner from Dr. Robinson. I’m here because it’s easy. The beer’s good, the vibe is right and everyone here leaves me the hell alone.

“How’d you find me?” I ask him and he shrugs.

“Been barhopping,” he says like it’s a coincidence. I huff in disbelief, but I don’t push him. Daniel’s background isn’t exactly sparkling clean.

He slaps down a few five-dollar bills as his beer hits the bar and then he finally faces me.

“She really mess you up that bad?” Going right in for the kill.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I answer him simply, returning my gaze to the cracked concrete sidewalk across the street. A few people walk by and no one seems to notice it.

“Fair enough,” he says and then asks for a menu.

“You’re making yourself right at home, aren’t you?” I ask him.

“I gotta eat.”

I take a good hard look at him as he opens the menu and pretends like this is some casual meetup.

“You don’t have anything better to do?” I ask him and his dark gaze meets mine. There’s a challenge there, but one he lets go of quickly.

“Nothing I feel like doing right now.”

Another moment passes and he closes the menu and pushes it forward, peeking over his shoulder to check out the game.

“What would you do?” I finally ask him. “If you were me?”

“If I wanted a girl, but she didn’t want me?” he asks like that’s what happened.

“She wants me,” I tell him confidently and he huffs a sarcastic laugh. “She’s scared,” I tell him in a raised voice I didn’t intend.

“Scared of you?” he asks me like it’s a valid question and I can’t believe he’d ask that.

“You think I’d hurt her?” My hackles raise, my muscles coiling. “I’d never give her a reason to fear me. I wouldn’t hurt a woman.”

“You’re the one who said she’s scared,” he answers me and I let the anger wane, listening to the murmur of talking around us and the sounds of the football game on the screen as I think about how to explain my Allie Cat.

“What’s she afraid of then?” Daniel asks me before I can tell him anything and I just shrug.

“What are we all afraid of?” I shoot back and then snort, like I’m some fucking philosopher.

“Getting hurt … or maybe that we’ll be the ones to do the hurting,” Daniel answers in a monotone with nothing but sincerity. My throat tightens and I struggle to release my breath as I take in the weight of what he said.

I nod and force a chug of my beer and end up drinking it all down. It hits the bar with a loud ring from the empty glass and I signal for another.

“Sometimes people hurt the ones that get close to them.”

“I didn’t hurt her,” I tell him without looking away from the bar. I watch the bartender fill the glass, the beer spilling over before he wipes it off.

“I wasn’t talking about you doing the hurting. Seems like she’s the one who’s got you on a leash.”

I smirk at him and grab the beer with both hands.

“Maybe I like the leash,” I joke and he finally breaks into a smile, but it’s gone when he opens his mouth next.

“You like her dicking you around though?” he asks. “Leading you on like that?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” I tell him and he’s quick to respond with, “That’s what they all say.”

“I’m telling you, Allie feels something for me. There’s something there.”

“But she’s scared?” he asks like I’m being ridiculous. Without waiting for me to try to explain more, he continues.

“You can’t make someone commit to you.” His voice turns bitter as he adds, “You can’t make them want you.” I’m struck by his words and the force of them until I realize he’s talking about something else. Someone else.

“If she’d just tell me what the hell got to her, I’d make it right.”

“Did you ask?”

The world seems to still at his question. The obvious answer is yes. But I didn’t, not really. I backed off. I didn’t push her like I thought of doing. I could have pushed. I should have. I was so close and I didn’t do it.

“I didn’t want to scare her off,” I admit and the words are a murmur.

“Instead you lost her,” he says back and I stare at him like he’s the asshole here. He shrugs and takes another sip of his beer before telling me, “Sometimes they come back, and sometimes you just have to get them.”