Ben sat at the bar of the Players’ Club blankly staring at a baseball game on the television and absentmindedly peeling the label off his beer. It had been a week since he’d returned home to his apartment to find all of Ryan’s stuff gone. His place felt empty without it—without her—and he couldn’t bring himself to spend much time there. Hence why he was at the club in the middle of the day for the fourth time that week.

One of the bartenders, an older guy named Sammy, came over to wipe the bar beside Ben. “You okay, man?” Sammy asked.

Ben took a swig of his beer. “Yup.”

Sammy chuckled. “If you say so.” He leaned against the bar, his amused gaze lingering on Ben.

Ben liked Sammy, but pouring his heart out to a bartender was too cliché, even for Ben. “Where’s Mike been?” he asked in an attempt to deflect the attention from himself. Though he genuinely was curious about the answer. Ben had been in pretty regularly over the past week, and he hadn’t seen Mike.

Sammy shrugged. “Said he needed to take care of some things. Didn’t say what, though.”

Ben didn’t reply, but he found that odd. He’d come to know Mike pretty well over the past year that they’d been coming to the club, and Mike was almost always there. The guy was practically married to the place.

“Need anything?” Sammy asked.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Sammy started to walk away, but stopped suddenly. He didn’t turn around immediately, as if he were warring with himself whether he should. Finally, he faced Ben again. “I’m not very good at advice. That’s usually Mike’s thing. But . . . whatever has you looking like that,” he said as he gestured at Ben. “Do what you gotta do to fix it.”

Ben felt his body go rigid at the unwanted advice. “Some things can’t be fixed,” he replied, his tone hard.

Sammy was quiet for a second before he said, “Maybe it looks like that because of where you’re sitting.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Listen, kid. I’ve been doing this a long time, and the only thing I’ve learned for absolute certain is that no one has ever made things better while sitting on a barstool.” Sammy rapped his knuckles on the bar top a few times before walking away.

Ben watched him as he went to serve another guy at the other end of the bar. What the fuck does he know about it? Ben had tried to fix things. He’d called Ryan numerous times, but it went directly to voicemail every time, and his texts didn’t go through. She’d obviously blocked his number, and since she’d never told him where she lived, going there wasn’t an option. Granted, he could probably call in some favors and find out, but what would that prove? That he was a stalker? No, thanks. She obviously wanted a clean break and that was all there was to it.

But . . . But if Ben let himself think about it, that wasn’t the only relationship that needed fixing. He needed to man up and try to explain himself to his parents—his mom especially. He knew he could repair that damage eventually. But him and David? That was a fucking disaster.

He replayed Sammy’s words over in his head. Ben knew he wasn’t going to solve anything by going to the bar, but what the hell was he supposed to do? He didn’t want to be home because the weight of his mistakes threatened to smother him there, and he didn’t feel like hanging out with his friends because they’d want to talk about what was going on and that sounded about as much fun as a colonoscopy. Maybe he should head out to his house in Denver. He could lick his wounds there and try to get his shit together.

You’re the one who gets his feelings hurt and then runs away. David’s words rang in his ears. That was exactly what he was doing, wasn’t it? Fucking running, like David had accused him of.

Ben was overwhelmed with the truth of what David had said. He didn’t want to be that guy—the one who ran when things got hard. During the wedding weekend, people had kept telling him he was the strong one. But it wasn’t even remotely true—not if he couldn’t even face his own family. It was time Ben decided what kind of man he wanted to be. Taking a last sip of his beer, Ben stood up from the stool and headed for the exit. When he got to his car, he didn’t start it, but instead pulled out his phone, found the number he wanted, and called it. It connected on the second ring.

“Hello?” his mom said.

“Hi. It’s me.”

He heard her exhale, though whether it was from irritation or relief, he wasn’t sure. “Ben. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Sorry it took me so long to call. I had to wallow in my embarrassment for a little bit, I guess,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle even though nothing about this situation was funny.

“I can’t exactly say I blame you. That was quite a scene.”

Ben rubbed the heel of his free hand into his eyes. “Definitely not my proudest moment.”

“Yes, well, thankfully you have a lot of other things to be proud of to balance it out.”

Her words surprised Ben. She’d never said much that hinted at the possibility that he should be proud of anything he did. He’d needed to hear it. It reminded him that no matter what, his mom did love him. He kept that thought in his head as he took a deep breath and filled in the rest of the story: how he’d hired Ryan, and why; how he’d started developing feelings for her somewhere along the way; how he’d ruined everything they had because he was a jackass. His mom was silent through all of it until he got to the part about Ryan not actually being an escort.

“Well, of course she wasn’t. Anyone with half a brain could’ve figured that out.”

Ben let the insult slide because he deserved it. “How? She said she was one. Why would anyone lie about being an escort?”

“I’m sure she had her reasons.”

Ben knew she did, but he also felt that his mom’s assertion was based on the fact that she had the luxury of the full story.

“I know I only spent a few days with her, but she doesn’t come off as that good of an actress,” she continued.

“Well, she has to be. Don’t forget, we were lying to you.”

“Not about the things that mattered. How you two felt about one another was written all over your faces, was in every look you shared. You can lie about a lot of things, but feelings that strong aren’t among them.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am,” she said with a trace of humor he hadn’t heard from her in a long time. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“There’s not much I can do. She won’t talk to me.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame her.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Sorry,” she said without sounding apologetic in the least. “Just don’t be so quick to give up on it. That’s not like you.”

Ben didn’t think that was entirely true, but since he was surprised his mom was capable of having any positive thoughts about him after what he’d done, he wasn’t about to contradict her.

They were quiet for a few beats before his mom spoke again. “You know, watching you on the ice has always amazed me. You’re so sure of yourself there. There’s a confidence about you that lets you get the job done, no matter how difficult it may be.”

“I don’t always get the job done. We haven’t even made the playoffs in the last few years.”

“Well, to be frank, that’s because your supporting cast leaves a lot to be desired.”

Ben was stunned. “You . . . watch my games?”

His mom sighed again, though this time, her disappointment was audible. “Sometimes I feel like you and I don’t know each other as well as we think we do. Of course I watch your games, Ben. Your dad and I never miss one. And I’m going to break a confidence here, but I feel like it’s something you need to know.”

“What is it?” Ben asked when she hesitated.

“David never misses one either.” Her voice was almost a whisper, but the words echoed loudly inside of Ben. And they continued to replay in his mind while he and his mom finished their conversation and said their goodbyes.

He sat in his car for a while, mulling over his next move. And then finally deciding he wasn’t going to figure it out sitting in a parking lot, he started his car and put it in gear. Hopefully, he’d have better luck with his thoughts on his way to Connecticut.

* * *

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Ryan had always hated that expression, but she did her best to school her features as she approached Paul. “Hi, Paul. Long time no see.”

“I’ll say. What brings you back in here?”

A complete lack of standards, Ryan thought, though she knew it wasn’t true. The truth was that she needed a job and she’d heard Paul had a job to offer. And while she probably could’ve gone somewhere else, the fact was that she knew the money was steady here and would allow her to save most of what Ben had already paid her before Connecticut. She’d never had savings before and she intended to keep them. “Thought I’d see if you were hiring,” she said with a bright smile.

Paul eyed her skeptically. “Is that so?”

“I mean, I know we didn’t end on the best note—”

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” he interrupted.

“But I now understand that you have protocols in place and that I need to follow them,” she said, ignoring his interruption.

“I dunno. There are a lot of girls I could get in here to carry drinks. I’m not so sure I should take another chance on you.” Paul looked at her for an inordinate amount of time. It felt like they were playing the staring equivalent of chicken.

Finally, Ryan cracked. “For Christ’s sake, Paul, if I promise not to go postal on any of the customers, can I have my job back?” Once the words were out, she thought that maybe she could have gone about that in a better way. But to her surprise, Paul laughed.

“You really are a goddamn firecracker. Some guys are into that. Not me. But some guys. I guess I can let you back in here on a trial basis.”

Ryan smiled widely. She momentarily lost her mind and almost hugged Paul, but thankfully that urge passed before she followed through with it. “Thank you so much, Paul. You won’t regret it.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain I will. But at least it’ll probably be entertaining in the meantime. Catch up with Ginger on the way out to work out your schedule.”

And with that, Ryan was dismissed. She stopped to talk to Ginger and find out what shifts she’d be working before stepping out into the sunlight. Tilting her head up toward the sky, she let the sun warm her face and tried to come to terms with the fact that she’d willingly gotten her job back at a place she kind of hated. The worst part was she wasn’t sure what she regretted more about the decision: the fact that her boss was a douche or that the place reminded her of Ben.

She took a deep breath and turned around to look up at Daisy’s, letting herself admit, even if for a moment, that she thought only one of those things was regrettable.