It was always cold when I came here, but I preferred it that way. Even if the sun was out, the cold kept things bleak, and I wanted them bleak.

“I tried,” I whispered as I reached out to touch the stone. I could feel the chill even through my gloves, but the external temperature had little to do with what I felt all through me.

The marker was small, but I hadn’t been able to afford anything else. Not without selling the bar and making myself homeless in the process. Dad wouldn’t have wanted that. In fact, he probably would have laughed at me for wanting anything here at all. We’d never been the sentimental type. Or, at least, I’d tried not to be.

Gareth Bradley Reeve Age 47 Beloved Father

It wasn’t nearly enough. Those seven words didn’t say how he’d been a single dad from the time I was three. Or how he’d taught me to ride my bike in the bar, so he could keep an eye on me while he did the paperwork. It didn’t let everyone who walked by know that he’d gone without new shoes, so I could have a prom dress.

I drew in a shuddering breath and wondered if I’d ever be able to come here without feeling like my world was ending all over again. I missed him so badly that it hurt. I had Gilly, but I didn’t know if she would always be there. I didn’t know if whatever had sent her to Boston years ago would send her away.

“I don’t know what to do, Dad.” I straightened but kept looking down at the marker. “I’ve tried to keep things going, but I don’t think I can anymore.”

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I glanced toward it, expecting to see someone with flowers, or maybe a few stones, to lay at a grave. Instead, I saw Mr. Jones.

“Not here,” I said, shaking my head. “You don’t do this here.”

He held up a hand. “Please, Miss Reeve, hear me out.” I glared at him but made a gesture for him to continue. He did. “You need to stay away from Jax Hunter.”

Okay, not what I’d been expecting. “I don’t understand.”

Mr. Jones gave me one of those patronizing looks that men his age gave women of all ages who dared to question them. “I think you do, Miss Reeve. You need to stay away from Mr. Hunter.”

“I have a boyfriend.” Heat rushed to my cheeks as I realized the statement wasn’t necessarily about the kiss. Mr. Jones had an employer who wanted my bar, after all. “And I told you I wasn’t selling.”

He gave a half-shrug. “Everyone knows that being in a relationship doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

The way he said it made me think it wasn’t just some sort of off-the-cuff remark, no matter how casual he sounded, but this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to be having. Not here, not with him.

“Look,” I said, “you need to leave. Whatever message you have for me, you can give it to me any other time or place. Just not here.”

His eyes darted down to the stone at my feet, but there was no apology on his face when he looked back at me. “My instructions were to come here and tell you to–”

“I know, I know, ‘stay away from Jax,’” I said. My temper was simmering now, and the last of my patience was gone. “You do realize that whatever asshole you’re delivering your message for sent you to find me at my father’s grave, on the anniversary of his death?”

He didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed, and that just pissed me off more.

“I have a message for you to take back to your boss. I might’ve considered selling at some point in the far future, but they crossed a line sending you here today. I’ll see my bar burned to the ground before I’ll sell to them. You go back and tell them that they fucked up.”

I couldn’t tell if he was ignoring me, or trying not to laugh, but I meant every word of what I said. I didn’t like being told what to do, but I could’ve overlooked the strange ‘warning’ if Mr. Jones had just come to the bar. This would’ve been too far even if I hadn’t just had the shittiest week ever.

“I admire your determination, Miss Reeve, but let me assure you that once my employer sets their sights on something, they don’t stop until they get what they want. I recommend that you do as you’ve been told and avoid Mr. Hunter.” He smoothed back his slick hair. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say to any of that. I had a feeling that he was telling the truth, both about his employer and about me seeing him again. I wasn’t sure, however, what he’d meant by the relationship comment. Unless, of course, he’d seen Jax kiss me, and then left before he saw my response. But that wasn’t any of his business.

And neither was my relationship with Jax. My non-relationship. Because he and I didn’t have one.

And we never would.

At least that was one less thing I had to worry about with Mr. Jones’ employer.