Delivery days always suck ass. The amount of inventory that it takes to keep this place up and running is unreal. I have no idea how Peaches has done this year after year, never missing a day, keeping this club running smoothly. I’m still high on the fact I finally found a word in those darn word search puzzles.

I’d guess I counted over a thousand bottles of liquor and whiskey and now freshened up for my shift. My reflection in the mirror is so starkly different from the one I used to study. I never really saw the woman within my soul, but now I do. My hand slowly trails down to the hem of my tight t-shirt, pulling it up until I see the skin I avoided for so many years.

I don’t wince or turn away. I feel all of it, the way Hart can’t take his hands off it or the way he washes and kisses me. It’s marred yet the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My torture has morphed into my beauty. The same beauty that has my future, holding all my cards. A slow grin transforms my face. I’m a new woman, and I love her.

Using my fingers, I comb my hair, keeping it pulled high on the top of my head and off my neck. And then splash some cold water on my face, hoping to give me some extra energy for the shift. It’s going to be a crazy night with three up and coming bands performing along with dozens of talent scouts scouring for their attention.

Of course, my set will close the night out, but it’s nothing special, just my outlet. I have a special song up my sleeve that I hope Hart hears each word of. A loud banging on the door startles me, causing me to rush out of the bathroom and straight into work mode.

Like any other weekend night, the bar is flowing with customers and an energetic vibe. It’s impossible to explain the vibe and high this bar has to offer. I’ve never reached out or even been brave enough to settle anywhere until Peaches. There was something in her kind eyes, and then when this old bar communicated with my soul, I knew I was home. Hart was just the perfect ending.

“Round of Crown and Coke.” I set the glasses down on the table in front of the men.

“Thanks, sexy lady.”

I nod politely with stiff shoulders, giving off no other clues. My bitch façade still in place. The one I shielded myself with when I started this job. Peaches was the queen and taught me well.

Old habits die hard; I find myself checking the clock on the wall and peering over to Hart’s bar stool. It’s insane how obsessed I am with the man.

“Take your break before lover boy gets here.” Peaches snags my tray.

I have the urge to glance up at the clock but have a better idea.

“Sounds good. Be back in fifteen.” I rush from the bar with a skip in my step.

Once locked in the supply room, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and check the time. Screw wall or alarm clocks and all that old-fashioned jazz. I laugh at myself because I sound so much like Hart. With shaky fingers, I pull up the home screen and find the text app.

Me: Guess what?

Me: I know what time it is.

Me: Where are you?

Little dancing dots appear at the bottom of the screen. Seriously, I clench, scared my phone may blow up any time now.

DING!

I jump back, knocking into a metal shelving still full of bagged peanuts and pretzels.

Hart: I was pooping.

Me: Oh!

Hart: You okay?

My fingers grow nervous knowing this next text is my longest of all.

Me: I had to check the time and have a break. Cell phone came in handy.

Thank God for that automatic spelling thingy.

Hart: Nice! Just putting Mom to bed then heading your way.

It takes me longer than a person my age to read and process his words, but I do it.

Me: Okay

Hart: Shug?

Me: Yes.

Hart: Have I told you that I love you?

Me: I don’t think so.

Hart: Shug, I love you.

My face will probably crack at any time with the amount of smiling this man causes.

Me: Love you, too.

Hart: I’m proud of you.

I check the time on the phone and know I have to go back to work. I could go on all night in this dingy supply closet texting Hart. It’s a new game, and I adore it. However, life calls. I tuck the phone into my back pocket, gather my thoughts, and try to focus on the task ahead and not Hart Richards.

The door flies open to the supply closet, and I bound out floating on cloud nine. The hall is empty, and for that I’m thankful. My feet glide down the hall until I collide into what seems to be a brick wall.

“Savannah Ray.”

Only one monster would call me by that name. The timbre of his voice freezes all my senses, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. Blake holds his hands up in the air, telling me he’s not here to hurt me, but I’m smarter than that.

“Just want a few words, then I’ll leave.”

My mouth opens, but no words come out. I try again and yet nothing. I repeat the action, scrambling to scream for help, or at least tell him to fuck a dry cactus.

“I’m going to hand you one more business card. It will be the last time. You have one week to decide to sign with Arena 55 Studios.” He drops his hands to his sides then has the audacity to fucking grin like he’s won.

That should’ve been my first sign. It was only the silence before the storm. There was a brief handful of seconds where I had the courage to tell him to fuck off and that his threats wouldn’t affect me because I have the world right now. My past no longer holds power over me, and I no longer fear the monsters finding me, who hurt me so many years ago, because Hart Richards discovered me and then saved me.

Blake takes a step closer to me. The smell of his whiskey-scented breath tickles my face. “You have one week like I said, but you should know one little detail. Hart’s father is my janitor. He scrubs my motherfucking toilets.”

He inches in closer, causing me to back up until my spine is pressed against the cold wall.

“I have that fucker by the balls. Want to know why?”

A deadly silence floats between us. I don’t even flinch waiting for Blake’s punch line. Four simple words that I could even spell shatter my entire world.

“I pay her bills.” The devil himself smiles in my face. “Curing cancer isn’t cheap. Treating a dying patient, making her life comfortable is even more expensive. Remember that little stunt Hart pulled by beating the shit out of me? Well, it’s time to pay. I’m going to make it simple for you. Sign with my studio or Maria’s healthcare is cut off. Period.”

“Why?” The one word fumbles out in a stutter.

“Made a deal with Hart’s dad. He knows too much about his daughter’s death, so I promised him that I’d take care of his bitch wife. One week. You sign and go on tour or Maria is cut off.” He flicks his business card at me. It flutters down to the ground before landing on the tip of my boot.

Blake adjusts the lapels on his suit jacket, turns his back on me, and then strides away. Just like that, my world is once again turned upside down. All of the firsts are erased, and I’m spiraled right back down into a shell of a human being.

My knees knock together with his words on replay in my head. He’s holding all the cards and struck where he knew it would hurt. I can’t…I just can’t go on tour. What if they find me? I don’t want to leave Hart or this place. My music is just that, my music. Nobody else’s. This is what happens when you put yourself out there. Consequences, Savannah, these are consequences of living.

My thoughts make my stomach swirl in a turbulent storm. The price of experiencing life is devastating, but without devastation, I never would’ve lived. The bile rises up the back of my throat, my vision going dark, and all I want to do is run, but my legs won’t work.

“There you are.” Peaches glides up to me, patting my shoulder. “Need you at the bar. I have to take a call in my office.”

I nod, unable to form words.

“You okay, Vannie?”

I nod again and shake the fear away. “On it.”

She rushes past me. Once her office door slams shut, I bend over and pick up the business card tucking it in my front pocket. The piece of evil burns hot through my denim shorts, reminding me of Blake’s words. Is he bluffing? Does he know I’d protect Hart at all cost? It’s a low fucking sucker punch either way.

I shake it all from my head, making my way back out into the bar. Milo is behind the bar making drinks. I go right back to my section, taking and running orders to the customers. Typically, I’m singing along with the bands to myself, even swaying to the beat when no one is looking. But not now. Blake took all of that away with one simple encounter.

The only positive right now is the bustling bar. I glance around to see the devil himself, but he’s nowhere to be found. He always sits at the same table with a smug look on his face. His seat is empty. He promised in his threat that he was leaving right after his proposition. The asshole probably didn’t want his face pounded in by Hart.

Snippets of the past come floating back as I serve drinks. Hart warned me that Blake would pay him back for that fight, then Hart’s words to his father about being involved with the man who had something to do with Belle’s death. I shudder.

I pass over the order of drinks to Milo and lean on the bar waiting for her to fill them. The cool wood does little to calm my inner dialogue. I have to figure out how I can find out if Blake is really paying the medical bills without asking Hart. If he even gets an inkling of his threat, he’ll kill Blake, that I have no doubt about.

I have no doubt in my mind, if push comes to shove, what I’ll choose. Maria is the most amazing person I’ve ever met for several reasons.

“Shug.” A soft whisper assaults the shell of my ear then strong arms wrap from behind me.

Hart’s hand settles down on my front pockets. His hand right over that business card that holds my future.

“You smell so good that I could eat you alive.”

It’s time for a poker face. Hart can have no idea. He doesn’t deserve any of this pain when he’s giving me the world.

“Hey.” I twist around in his arms. “I missed you.”

I cover his lips before he has a chance to respond. I kiss him like I’ll never be able to do it again. It’s inappropriate in the middle of the bar and during my shift, but all my cares are gone. I just need Hart.

When I pull back, we are both breathless.

“You okay?” Hart runs his hand down my face.

“I am now.” I smile up at him.

And it’s no lie either. It’s the Hart magic making all my worries fade away. He answers with another searing kiss. We don’t break apart until the plastic tray nudges me in the elbow. Duty calls, and it’s me pulling away from him with my palms planted on his chest. Hart only grins down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

How in the hell am I supposed to leave this guy who has given me the world?

The answer is, I can’t.

“Back to work I go.” I kiss the tip of his nose like he’s done to me so many times. “Have a seat, sexy sir, and I’ll be back to get your order. Don’t you dare let anyone else take your order!”

I pluck up the tray with one hand and perch the other on my hip.

“But I’m thirsty,” Hart whines.

I give him the coined stern Peaches glare, and he sits smiling. Marching off to deliver all the drinks makes the routine I’ve learned to embrace soothe all my nerves. Blake fades away into a distant memory. There has to be another answer to this cluster fuck. There just has to be, and I won’t give up until I find one. I will not run. I refuse to. I’m also adamant about not letting Hart kill a guy and be sent off to prison.

“Hey there, sexy.” I pet the shoulder of the patron in front of me. “Anyone help you yet?”

Yep, I just pressed my tits into his back. Hart peers over his shoulder with his stoic face on. It’s the sign he has something up his sleeve.

“Been sitting here for a good ten minutes and no one has taken my order.” He swivels around on his bar stool. “Thought about wearing my cowboy hat tonight, but figured my smile would get me a drink.”

“Oh, honey, I’m here to help you.” I step between his wide spread legs. “What do you like?”

Hart leans forward with his full lips grazing the shell of my ear. “I have a sweet tooth. I really, really like a particular taste, it’s very sweet, close to honey with a zing I can’t put my finger on. This taste consumes my motherfucking mind on a daily basis.”

My legs squeeze together, wishing more than ever that he’d just slip his hand down my pants before the next order is called. It’s as if he read my mind. His fingers glide up underneath my very short shorts. Hart wastes no time finding my favorite spot. The one he strums just like I play my guitar. His fingers are more talented than mine with the way he plays me.

I’m close. So fucking close with my arms laced around his neck asking, pleading for more. He sinks two fingers in me then rolls his thumb over my clit. I do my best to pretend I’m resting on the bar, waiting on the next order. But I’m sure my face gives away all my tricks.

Hart’s fingers are gone right before I’m about to drown in him. I pull back pissed and upset, wanting him to make me feel like the damn queen of the universe. But it’s his next move that freezes my tongue and the swat of my hand. Hart brings his hand to his mouth and then he proceeds to lick each of his fingers off.

“I left some for you.” He brings his fingers to my mouth, resting them on my bottom lip. “This is my favorite flavor. Have any whiskey to match it?”

My lips part for him as he gently nudges his fingers in my mouth. I taste it. Even tilt my head pondering the flavor. I play the act that this man has taught me to. He’s made me the star of the show.

“I know exactly what you’d like, big boy.” I pat his shoulder once again and slowly back away. “The taste is familiar.”

I take three more steps away from the man who owns me because if I don’t, I will let him have his way with me in this bar. I brush my forehead with the back of my hand wondering how in the hell he’s brought this out in me. It’s more than the best dream. Better than Christmas morning when little girls get their ponies or any other imaginable, perfect gifts.

Peaches is back behind the bar slinging drinks. She’s a damn natural making this place run like a well-oiled machine. I give her a wink, and she knows exactly what I just ordered. A whiskey neat for her nephew. After typing in my order, I lean on the bar, fighting the urge to go back to my favorite customer.

My mind begins playing the mind game of all mind games. Am I an addict? Do I have to have him to survive? It’s a vicious cycle haunting me. Maria, Peaches, Hart, all of their loving and adoring faces cycle in my mind. I know the answer. It’s what I have to do.

Peaches slides me his whiskey neat then begins placing the other drinks on my tray. I stride over to Hart, standing on my tiptoes and reaching over his shoulder to put the drink in front of him. I let my free hand wander down low into his lap.

“Your second favorite drink.” I kiss the side of his cheek. “I love you, Hart.”

The rest of the night flies by and before I know it, it’s time to get on stage and sing. The whole set I had planned is long forgotten. I sing from the hurt in my soul. Each song filled with everything I have for Hart and the life he’s given me. If it happens to be taken away, he will know just exactly how deeply I love him.

My final song of the evening is an acoustic version of ‘What We Ain’t Got’ by Jake Owen. My vocal chords strain as I push all the emotions from deep in my boots into the song. My fingers gracefully strum the guitar as I pour everything out. When I’m forced to sing out the word goodbye, I nearly collapse in a heap of pain right on the stage. But then I make eye contact with Hart while singing the song.

He’s there like he always is. Solid and steady, gripping his drink while listening with his full attention. His face is somber, and I wonder if he understands what’s going on right now. This song is for him, to let him know I’ll never love another man as long as I live. He’s my forever and always will be. I hold the last note for an extra beat and then drop my head. There’s an eerie pause in the bar then a light applause.

The song was somber with my performance making it worse. My fingers tremble, pulling my guitar up and over my head. The gelatin feeling in my legs makes it difficult to walk. Once behind closed doors, locked away in the bathroom, that’s when I finally crumble to the ground in a messy heap of hurt. Seven days to spend, one hundred sixty-eight hours to show Hart how much I’ll love him forever.