Show Me the Way (Fight for Me 1)

That was the thing about chances.

We didn’t know their outcomes.

If we’d succeed or if we’d fail.

It didn’t matter.

I had to take a chance on him.

6

Rex

“You sure you want to be here tonight?” I asked Ollie. Guilt was threatening to consume me. Suck me down. Take me under.

I fought it, trying to be strong, because it wasn’t fucking right for me to be the one falling apart.

Ollie, Kale, and I were in the back office at Olive’s where it was quiet. Private. The elevated voices from the throng of people out front were dulled, barely seeping through the walls, the evidence of the live band little more than a throb that vibrated the floors.

Ollie roughed a tattooed hand over his mouth like that single act might hold the power to erase the burden. A low, humorless chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Doesn’t make much of a difference where we’re at, now, does it? Fuckin’ day will follow us, anyway.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. Doubted there was a statement I agreed with more. This fucking date haunted us no matter where we went. No matter how much time had passed. There was no outrunning it.

Kale rocked back in the office chair where he sat at Ollie’s desk. He had spun the chair around so he could face us, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his fingers threaded at the back of his head. “Twelve years. Twelve years, and it doesn’t get any easier, does it?”

Ollie dropped his head back on the wall he rested against and squeezed his eyes closed. “Twelve years.” Ollie’s voice was nothing but a moan, close to tears. “Shut my eyes and, I swear to God, it feels like yesterday.”

Ollie was a big, burly asshole, who was covered in tats, and if you didn’t know him, he was intimidating as fuck. I’d seen grown men cross the street when he was heading their direction.

He’d bought Olive’s back when it was little more than a dive, when the place was in shambles and going under. I’d come along beside him, doing the physical labor to restore the interior. But it was his vision that made it the most popular bar in Gingham Lakes.

“And a fucking century at the same damned time,” I said, shifting on the file cabinet I was leaning on.

“I just . . .” Kale trailed off, unable to say the things every single one of us were thinking.

That it was too late.

That there was no chance.

There was no hope.

Even when it felt impossible to give it up.

Kale had always been the one who carried us through. He was an ER doctor over at the local hospital. He worked his ass off and usually did it with a smile on his face.

He was the kind of guy who would walk through hot coals for a friend. Hell, he’d stand right in the middle of the flames if it meant he could help a man out. Make your load lighter. The guy carried around the weight of the world, thinking it was his duty to offer relief.

Kale, Ollie, and I? We’d been through hell together. Each of us were so different, sometimes I wondered if we would have grown apart if it hadn’t happened. Had to wonder if that fateful day had forged something indestructible between us. A bond and a burden that never should have been shaped.

A blessing given just the same as the curse.

Ollie groaned then fiercely shook his head, like he was shaking off the memories, the horror, before he strode across the small area and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. He poured it across the shot glasses and passed one to me and Kale.

He lifted his in the air. “To Sydney. We’ll never forget.”

I lifted mine, Kale did the same, the three glasses clinking in the middle. “We’ll never forget.”

I tossed back my shot, the burn of it sliding down my throat and filling my stomach with flames.

No.

There was no chance I would ever forget.

Ten minutes later, Kale and I had moved out into the front of the bar. I grabbed our regular table, which was tucked in the back, while Kale went to grab us drinks.

A blur of voices echoed off the red brick walls of the bottom floor. Olive’s was all the rage in Gingham Lakes. Trendy and popular and packed.

A place I probably wouldn’t step foot in if it weren’t for the fact Ollie was the owner.

The din was a mind-numbing thrum that dulled the senses in the same way the dimmed, muted lights hanging from the ceiling somehow slowed the atmosphere, the band playing tonight super mellow and adding to the laid-back vibe.

Made me feel like I was right in the middle of everything without setting foot in the throng, this impression that the night might go on forever and it was all gonna end in the blink of an eye.