I should have gotten her name.
Mentally kicking myself for being such an asshole, like always, and then letting her slip away, I take a long draw from my beer.
The cold brew is just what I need after the shit-show that was today, and I take another pull before setting the glass on the bar.
I’d assumed that she was stuck-up, like the tourists around here could be. I mean, she was wearing pearls for God’s sake. But, she’d bent over backward apologizing for her initial rudeness. She’d seemed to be genuinely sorry for being so dismissive.
She was also beautiful.
Not that I hadn’t seen or waited on a beautiful woman before. But, there was an honesty in her eyes. Well, once she pulled her expensive sunglasses from her face. Her eyes had sparkled with openness as she’d apologized for the millionth time. And then she’d cracked a joke, given me shit, and I couldn’t help but smile.
I rest my forearms on the edge of the bar and stare at my tattoos. The same tattoos that I’d caught the nameless woman studying. Most of them had no significance. I’d never really been the kind of guy to think that every piece of art on my skin needed to have meaning. Usually, if I saw a design I liked or was into something at the moment, I’d call up my buddy and get it done.
But the Chevy emblem…
Dad.
That one meant something.
I rub my thumb along the design, beating back the sadness and then subsequent anger that always followed, and grab my glass from the bar. Tipping it back, I drain the contents.
Pushing up on my heels, I lean across the bar and refill my drink from the tap.
“You gonna pay for that?”
Her voice grates my nerves, and I clench my teeth, attempting to rein my temper in before answering her.
“Nope.”
She sighs loudly as her heels click across the concrete. “Bronnson. We’ve talked about this.”
I ignore the comment and continue drinking my beer, refusing to acknowledge her when she takes a seat on the empty bar stool beside me.
“If you’re gonna drink after hours, you’re gonna have to start paying for it.”
I slam my now empty glass down and snap my head in her direction. “Not in the fucking mood for your shit tonight, Dani.”
Her lips pursed together, she holds my stare.
For several tense moments, neither of us speak, a battle of wills that both of us refuse to give in to.
She’s the first to cave, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t want to fight with you.” Her beautiful face falls, her usually bright eyes dull and tired. “All we ever do is fight these days.”
Her voice quivers, and a pang of guilt hits my stomach. She’s wrong though. It’s not just “these days” that we’ve been fighting. That’s all we’ve ever done.
I wrap an arm around her slender shoulders and pull her to me. She kisses my cheek, her lips dry on my skin, and loops her arm around my waist.
“What’s the point in owning a bar if I can’t drink for free?” I murmur, chuckling.
She tilts her head back, her eyes devoid of any humor. “You don’t need to be drinking anyway.”
Her words strike a nerve and I push away from her. Standing, I walk around the end of the bar and drop my glass into the sink. It clatters loudly and I find myself wishing it had broken. Breaking something would feel good right now. Maybe it would relieve the blood pounding in my ears, the surge of anger coursing through my veins.
“Bar’s closed, Dani. Get out.” I hate being such a jerk.
She pushes to her feet, her arms folded across her chest. She’s frowning, her bottom lip quivering.
“I’m really getting tired of your lectures,” I tell her, rounding the bar. My voice rises as I stalk toward the door. “I don’t need your shit.”
I sling the door open and gesture for her to leave with my free hand.
Dani snatches her purse from the stool she’d set it on. “I’m just worried about you, Bronn. That’s all.”
“Well, don’t be. I’m fine.”
She shakes her head, her auburn hair brushing her shoulders. “No, you’re not. You haven’t been fine for a long time.”
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” I hiss.
She comes to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and drops her head to my chest. I try to move out of her grasp, not wanting the physical contact she always insists on, but her grip is iron tight and I can’t get away from her without hurting her.
That’s all you’ve ever done.
She presses her face in to my shirt. “I just want you to be happy. And drinking all the time and getting into trouble all the time… You can’t be happy living this life.”
Her assessment is spot on.
Gripping her shoulders, I push her away from me. “You don’t know shit about what makes me happy. But I can tell you, your constant nagging isn’t doing it,” I growl.
Her eyes widen. “I’m just trying to look out for you, dammit!” she snaps.
“Well, stop. You’re not my fucking mother!” I shout, pushing a hand through my hair.
Her lip stops quivering, her eyes harden, and through clenched teeth she tells me, “You’re right, I’m not. Your mother doesn’t give a shit about you. Sometimes I wonder why I do.” She pushes past me, out into the street.
Great job, jackass.
I sigh and grab her arm. “Dani, wait.”
Whirling, she glares at me and shouts, “Let go of me!” I drop her arm as she delivers her final blow. “I’m done with you.”
She hurries down the street, but I don’t try to stop her. We’ve had this fight before, and it’s always the same. I’ll give her a few days to cool off and then apologize. We’ll promise not to fight anymore, to remember that we’re all we’ve got, and things will get better for a while. Then something will happen and we’ll have the same argument we always do.
Always about my drinking. Always about her need to help me. Always something.
But tonight was the first time she’d brought up my mother. And it had hurt.
Dani’s words echo in my head as I make my way home.
“Mom?” I whispered, nudging her shoulder.
Her only response was a loud snore.
I glanced around the room, taking inventory of the empty vodka bottles that littered the floor.
I shook her shoulder again, a little harder, and she cracked one eye open.
“Jimmy?”
“No, ma, it’s Bronn.”
Her eye closed. “Get the fuck outta here, Bronn. Can’t you see I’m sleepin’?”
My stomach rumbled. “But I’m hungry. It’s dinner time.”
Her eyelids popped open, her face twisted in anger. She pushed up on an elbow and sneered. “So? Go make yourself something to eat then. I’m not your fucking servant!”
After flopping back onto the stained mattress, she turned away from me, mumbling under her breath.
My lip quivered and I sniffled, loud enough for her to hear.
“Quit that sniveling. You’re six fucking years old. Big enough to make your own dinner. Now get out of here!”
“Sorry, Mama,” I whispered, backing out of the room.
The memory fades away as I step aboard the boat that I’ve been living on for the last year. While it has a cabin with a bed and bathroom, it wasn’t meant to be lived on.
Pulling my t-shirt over my head, I toss it to the floor and slide between the scratchy sheets of my bed, not bothering to remove my jeans.
My phone alerts me to a text message, and I’m only mildly surprised to see it’s from Dani.
Dani: You’re an asshole. But so am I.
I smile in the darkness.
Me: You’re shit at apologies, you know.
I don’t set the phone down, not having to wait long for a response.
Dani: Who said I was apologizing?
Me: I did.
Dani: God, I hate you sometimes.
You’re not the only one.
Me: You’re so full of shit. You love me. It’s why you never fucking leave me alone.
Dani: No, I never fucking leave you alone because you’re my little brother. Family obligation, you know?
I chuckle. She’s so full of shit.
Me: Had a shit day. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you.
The bubble that indicates she’s typing appears and I stare at it. The longer she types, the more nervous I become. She’s probably tearing me a new one.
That you deserve.
Eventually the message pops up, and I’m surprised that it’s not a full-length novel.
Dani: Apology accepted. And I’m sorry for bringing up your mother. That was a low blow. I love you, Bronn. Goodnight.
Me: Me, too, Dani. Night.
I toss the phone on the bed and turn over, hoping the rocking of the boat will lull me to sleep. It’s an hour later before sleep overtakes me, and when it does, my slumber is plagued with dreams of the woman at the bar.