I sit at the bar in a dark, seedy dive nursing my third Crown Royal on ice. Or is it my fourth? The smooth, brown whisky has given me a mellow buzz and I’ve lost count. I should’ve added soda to take the edge off. Normally, I’m a beer and pretzels kind of guy. But today, hops and barley ain’t gonna cut it. I need something stronger to keep me from feeling the heart-shredding pain Shayla has inflicted.

I gave up hard liquor over two years ago when after a wild night of partying, I woke up in a sty on a pig farm. My teammates’ idea of a joke. Ever since then, I vowed never to be so drunk I couldn’t remember leaving the party. Now, with Cee in my life, I’ve given up even more. Women. Bachelorhood. And for what? My grand plan has come to a screeching halt.

Cee can stay for a while, but only while social services reviews her case. Thank God, my parents are in town. I don’t have the heart to go back home and face them right now. Like a coward, I sent my mom a text earlier, asking her to keep an eye on Cee for a few hours longer.

I keep hearing the social worker’s voice in my head. “I cannot recommend adoption of Cee.”

I toss back the rest of my drink. I wonder if this is how Sampson felt when Delilah brought him down. Or Mark Antony when Cleopatra duped him? Or any other famous guy in history who was ever wronged by a woman.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

I jump as a strong hand claps me on the back.

“Go away. I wanna wallow in the sludge of the pity sewer by myself. Don’t need no company.” I signal the bartender. “Gimme a refill.”

Ruger slides onto the barstool beside me. “That’s not going to help.”

“As my ex-manager this is none of your business.”

“As your brother, I’m worried.”

I can’t believe he tracked me down. I’d only come here a handful of times years ago when I was trying to hide out from the press. It was the perfect place to lay low. Nobody expected to find me in a hole in the wall on the city’s east side. The Rusty Nail. The name alone is enough to chase most reputable folks away. With sticky tabletops and questionable clientele who use their sleeves as napkins, this is definitely not Ruger’s type of place.

“You’re always worried about poor little me. Worried about my career. My life. My woman. Go ahead and tell me you told me so. Shayla is all wrong for me.”

“That was my line ten years ago. I’m wiser, and I hope you are, too.”

I shake my head. “This has all been for nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“The woman I thought was unblemished lied to me. Did you know she danced for money in college?”

“So.”

“So!”

“You did a whole bunch of shit before college, in college, out of college, and even six months ago. And let’s be honest. Did she lie? Or did she just not tell you?”

“She failed to tell me.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Yes!”

“If Shayla held every sordid thing you did against you, the two of you would have never gotten back together. I got news for you, Colt. You ain’t no saint.”

“Screw you, Ruger. You don’t even like Shayla. You proved that by forcing me to divorce her.”

“Yeah, I fucked up when I did that. But I didn’t have to twist your arm too hard. You could have told me to screw off. Instead, you went along for the ride. You have to take some responsibility for the choices you made.”

“I trusted you to lead me in the right direction. Now all of a sudden, you’re on the path to redemption? You come in here singing Shayla’s praises? Spare me.”

“I’ve had a change of heart. She’s a good woman. And you must have thought so too, or else you wouldn’t have asked her to marry you—twice.”

“I did it for Cee.”

“What a crock. You love Shayla. She’s the first person you thought to call. You showed up out of the blue demanding to pick up where you left off. Did you even ask her what she’s been doing for money all these years?”

I search my memory banks. No, I hadn’t asked her about her life over the past decade. I just assumed she’d been doing fine. All I’d been concerned about were my selfish needs. “She told me she had some bills to pay and student loan debt she still owed. She said she only danced to pay her tuition for a short while.”

“She didn’t have a full scholarship like you. I’m not making excuses for her. I’m just saying, ‘let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’”

“Don’t you dare quote scripture to me. Not right now, Ruger. I’ll likely slug you in the gut. I don’t wanna hear it.”

He scowled. “I may be a dozen years older and twenty pounds heavier, but I can still kick your ass any day, especially when you’re half-drunk.”

I swivel on the bar stool to face him. “Wanna bet?”

“Let me get this straight. You want to take me on, but you won’t fight for the woman you want?”

“You done?”

“Hell, a blind man could see how bad you want her. The way you look at her. The way she looks at you. Y’all are meant to be together. Cee loves her, too. And Shayla loves her. They’ve formed a fast attachment in only a few months. You’re willing to throw that away?”

“I tried. It didn’t work. Now I’m done.”

“Jeez, what a punk. All your life you’ve had things handed to you. The first sign of trouble comes along and you give up. Your problem is you’re not used to struggling.”

Shayla had said the same thing. She insisted that things had always been easy for me. Through my tipsy haze I recall her words. “Living in your own fantasy world, glossing over obstacles, and thinking your charm can solve every problem.”

“I’ve struggled plenty. I went all in for her. I sacrificed to get her back!”

“Naw, bro. She sacrificed for you and you couldn’t even give her the courtesy of believing in her. Listening to her. You’ve grown happy and complacent in your multimillion-dollar world. When things don’t go your way, you give up. That’s why the Rogues let you go. You’re half-assing your way through life and on the field.”

I leap to my feet and nearly fall backward. When I was sitting, I felt fine. But gravity is no friend of mine. I pitch forward. All I can think about is smashing Ruger’s face. The moment my fist is ready to connect, I lose my balance and tumble to the floor. The smell of Pine-Sol and vomit makes my nose hairs curl. The last thing I remember is Ruger standing over me before I black out.

* * *

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

A burning sensation against my cheek propels me toward consciousness.

“Wake up, Colt!” a voice calls.

One of my eyelids creaks open. I blink as light floods my vision. Ruger’s bearded face comes into focus. His mischievous green eyes gaze down at me.

“Welcome back, bro.” He extends a hand to help me up.

I smack it away. “What happened?”

“Ever hear the expression falling down drunk? That was you a few hours ago.”

It all came back to me in a rush. Sledgehammers of pain slam against my skull. My mouth feels packed with cotton balls. The acrid taste of stale liquor clings to my tongue. I slowly push myself up on my elbows. I’m lying on a musty couch in the middle of Ruger’s living room. His bachelor pad is the last place I want to be. I grind out, “Why the hell did you bring me here?”

“After I picked your inebriated carcass off the floor of The Rusty Nail I couldn’t take you back to the lake house. And I couldn’t risk running into any piranhas at your penthouse.”

I shake off the fog of my hangover. My head rotates in slow motion. Every movement hurts. Even my eyeballs feel like they’ve been tossed under the wheels of a diesel truck. My gaze lands on Ruger again.

He thrusts a glass of water toward me. I suck down greedy gulps. “Thanks.” Instead of answering, he just hovers over me, staring in silence. I snort. “I don’t like the look in your eyes.”

He cocks his head to the side. “What look?”

“The look you used to have when we were younger and you’d done something devious, like trading my marble collection for a G.I. Joe doll.”

His jaw drops. “For the hundredth time, it wasn’t a doll. It was an action figure. And yeah, I traded your raggedy ass marbles—all six of ’em. Even the cracked one.”

For some reason, I start laughing. Ruger joins in. Soon, we’re cracking up. Not polite chuckles, but knee-slapping, stomach-clenching, doubled over laughter. The two of us haven’t laughed this good in a long time. After months of tension and barely speaking to each other, my brother and I are finally letting loose. I need this release. The effect is sobering.

“Sorry about punching you earlier.”

“You didn’t actually make contact with me. You were too drunk to stand up straight.”

My eyes roll back in my head. “I gotta start making better choices. I’m too old for this shit.”

He chuckles. “I’ll agree with that. You’re the head of your own family now. They’re counting on you.”

“I know. What kind of example am I for Cee?”

“You’re the best kind,” a feminine voice interjects. “She needs you and so do I.”

My heart crashes against my ribcage as Shayla walks into the room. I struggle to my feet. Emotions flood through me.

Joy.

Relief.

Longing.

Regret.

Gratitude.

Love.

I drink in her image. A clingy blue dress hugs her curves and stops just above her kneecaps. My gut tightens. I’ve kissed every inch of her, front and back, including those knees. Her eyes are tinged with red, and slightly swollen. I know she’s been crying, no doubt going through as much pain as me. I realize in that moment, that our stubborn streaks are the only real barrier separating us. Limitations we’ve foolishly imposed. No matter what our problems, we can work them out. There is no one I’d rather be with than her.

She approaches and laces her fingers with mine.

My heart twists. After all of our misunderstandings, she still has faith in me. I squeeze her hands. “Shayla, I know I’ve been apologizing a lot. I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry about everything, especially what happened this morning.”

She squeezes my hands. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“I should have never doubted you. I had no right to judge you.”

“I’m guilty of being judgmental, as well. I didn’t trust our new relationship enough to share that part of my past with you. I was wrong. I should have told you.”

Ruger butts in. “Don’t you two think it’s time to put the past behind you and start focusing on your future?”

Shayla’s gaze captures mine. “I never thought these words would leave my mouth, but I agree with your brother.”

Her pretty lips ease into a smile, and I can’t help but follow suit. We’re both grinning like two silly teenagers with a crush on each other.

Ruger grumbles. “Damn! Can y’all kiss already and get the hell out of here?”

Now I’m the one who agrees with his words. I can’t think of anything I crave more than a kiss from my woman. My wife. I lean in and claim Shayla’s lips with a kiss that I hope conveys every iota of desire, love, and faith I feel for her. When she melts against my mouth, I know everything will be all right. My first love has given me a second chance. I’ll spend the rest of my days making sure she has no regrets.