“Love you, too.”
As soon as she hung up, I stuffed my phone in my pocket, but I didn’t climb on my bike. I had nothing to go home to.
Before Rose, I wouldn’t have thought twice about going home to enjoy a beer and some TV while the house was quiet. I’d been doing it for years, and I enjoyed the rare time to myself. Now, the house just felt empty as fuck when I was there alone.
“All good?” Grease asked as he came out of the building.
“Yeah, man,” I replied. “Fine.”
Grease nodded as he stopped next to his bike.
“Your boys have been glarin’ at me for weeks, but you haven’t,” I said, immediately regretting the words.
“My boys are young,” Grease said, pausing with his helmet in his hands. “They’re just startin’ out with their women. Still in the stage where everythin’ is either black or white. Haven’t had a chance to see all those shades of gray in between.”
I nodded, thinking that over.
“She’s not sayin’ much,” Grease said, making my head snap up. “But I know you love my daughter. So whatever’s happenin’ with you two is none of my business.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
“Don’t thank me,” he said flatly. “There comes a time I think it is my business, there’s not a place in this world you can hide from me.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised his hand to stop me.
“Don’t want to know,” he said. “I ain’t your confessor. Man up and fix shit with my girl, yeah? ’Cause the longer this goes on, the less neutral I’m gonna be.”
I laughed to myself as he pulled away and I tugged my helmet on. Wasn’t sure how I’d fix shit with Rose when she was the one who’d ended things. I wondered for a second if she was claiming something different, but immediately knew better. Rose wasn’t the type to lie about shit just to gain some sympathy. It was more likely that she was saying nothing, so everyone just assumed that I’d fucked up somehow.
I stewed the entire ride home, all the way through my shower, and as I made myself a sandwich for dinner. It wasn’t anything new, I’d been doing it for weeks, but for once I didn’t try to think about something else. I glared at the table while I ate, letting that last morning play on repeat in my mind.
By the time I was done with my food, I’d looked at the argument from all angles, and I was still pissed as hell at Rose.
I found myself riding to her work a few minutes later. It was earlier than she usually started, but I was on limited time since Kara would be home before too long. I figured if I caught Rose, great. If not? Well, I’d order a beer and enjoy it somewhere other than my couch.
She was behind the bar when I got there, doing her thing like it was any other night, and that made me even angrier. I was sitting at home stewing, and she was moving on with her life like nothing had happened. As I walked up to the bar and she smiled at a customer, I flexed my fists, wanting to break something.
Rose did a double take when she saw me, then, with a resigned expression, walked my way.
“What can I get you?” she asked warily.
“Beer,” I replied. “You know what I like.”
She swallowed and nodded, reaching for a glass. Silently, she poured me a beer, grabbed a coaster, and set both down in front of me. She turned to walk away and paused when I scoffed.
“Was there something else?” she asked, turning only her head to look at me.
“Shot of whiskey,” I replied.
I watched her closely as she grabbed a shot glass and set it next to my beer. Her hands shook as she poured the whiskey, and knowing that she wasn’t as unaffected as she seemed tempered my anger a little, but not enough.
“Is that all?” she asked woodenly, her eyes pointed somewhere over my shoulder.
I don’t know what made me say it, anger or resentment or some mix of the two, but when she finally looked directly at me, I gave her a nasty smile. “I’d like a shot at the bartender,” I said, not bothering to lower my voice. “You on the menu?”
Her head jerked back like I’d slapped her, and all the blood drained from her face.
“No?”
“I don’t come into your work and cause problems,” she said, her voice so low I could barely hear her. “I expect the same from you. Drink your beer and your whiskey and get the hell out.”
“You don’t come into my work because you don’t want your brothers knowin’ that you’re the one who left,” I shot back. “Easier to play the victim when everybody thinks that I did somethin’.”