“Really?”
She playfully rolled her eyes and giggled again. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can convince Brooklyn to come down one night. We can scout some possibilities for you.”
Graham stood and kissed her on the cheek. “I knew I could count on you.” He returned to work but checked on her often. Throughout the day, his friends came in to eat, chat, and see how he was doing. It was like a new leaf turned over with Grady going to rehab. The black cloud of Austin’s death and Grady’s demise lifted. There was a fresh new life in Cape Harbor.
By the time Rennie walked into the bar later that night, the Whale Spout was packed with bodies, with barely any space to move. The weekly dart tournament had drawn a bigger crowd than average—not that Graham cared. He welcomed the noise, especially a week before Christmas. It wasn’t until Rennie squeezed her way in between two patrons and ordered a beer that Graham realized she was there.
His face fell, and he quickly turned away, hoping she hadn’t seen his reaction to her. He would never purposely hurt her, but right now, she represented Grady. The good, the bad, and the ugly when it came to him.
Graham popped the top of her bottle, set it on a coaster, and slid it toward her. “You want a tab?” he asked her.
Rennie nodded and motioned toward the end of the bar, giving Graham no choice but to follow her. She rose onto her toes and told Graham what she knew about the lawsuit. At first, he had a hard time hearing her and asked that she repeat herself, because surely there was no way in hell someone would sue him. He was, without a doubt, a diligent bartender and owner. He would never serve a minor, let alone let anyone leave if they’d had too much to drink. There had to be a mistake.
Graham walked away and toward the back of the bar, disappearing behind the door. Once he was in the storage room, away from anyone who could hear him, he fisted his hands and let out a guttural scream. The veins in his forehead popped out. They throbbed from the pressure building. He screamed again and banged his fists against the concrete wall, not caring if his knuckles cut open.
“Why?” he yelled into the room. “What the fuck did I do to deserve this?” He would never get an answer, because there wasn’t one anyone could give him. He paced the room, small as it was, and recounted every young patron he could. His hands fisted in his hair as the faces of past customers blurred together. Graham would never be able to remember each person he saw over the summer.
Graham gave up pacing and slumped against the wall until he reached the hard floor. He kept his knees to his chest and let his tears fall silently. He wasn’t a big crier, but he was past the point of holding them back. Every part of his body hurt. His hands throbbed from hitting the wall, his head pounded from exertion, and his body ached. He hadn’t felt pain like this since Austin died. He wasn’t sure how much fight he had left in him. It was like he had won the biggest battle of his life when it came to his brother, only to face another army, ready to attack. Only this time, they threatened his livelihood.
When he returned an hour later, he found Rennie waiting on tables. She came and delivered unwelcome news, and when he left to go cope, she stepped in and helped him. Rennie saved him again.
The crowd had thinned out from earlier, but there were still quite a few people lingering. He owed Krista and Rennie an apology for ditching them, but he needed time away, time to process how the hell his life turned out the way it had. What he needed was a redo. He’d give anything to go back to the moment he decided moving home was the right thing to do.
Throughout the rest of the night, Rennie waited tables while Krista managed the bar and Graham bussed. He liked the change in scenery, the grunt work. It kept his mind on the task at hand, and he didn’t have to chat with anyone. When he was behind the bar, he doubled as Cape Harbor’s therapist, listening to everyone’s problems while avoiding his own.
It was midnight when Krista clocked out. Graham offered to clean so she could go home. Graham followed the last patrons to the door. Two old guys, lifers in town. They had been part of the team who looked for Austin. Days on end they had gone out, searching. He twisted the lock on the door and rested his head against the wood. Graham sighed heavily, but it did nothing to curb the anxiety building. Now that everything was quiet, he could hear his thoughts, and he hated them. There was no way he had done the things someone was accusing him of . . . or had he? He could admit there were times when he second-guessed handing someone a drink, where he watched them throughout the night to make sure they weren’t drunk and verified their ride status before they left the bar. He had a local taxi service on speed dial and used it often, and if he suspected someone was sharing drinks with someone underage, he never hesitated to call the police. The last thing he would ever want was for someone to be hurt as a result of his negligence.