Page 29 of Broken Pieces

Chapter Fourteen

Brooks

I hate this bar. I hate the people who come here. I hate the lights in the ceiling. I hate the shitty ass beer selection. I hate the god-damned chairs. I hate literally everything about this place.

Yet I find myself here once again. Only because it is a ten-minute drive from the house. And because I can get no damned privacy at home now.

What the hell was going through Summer’s damn mind when she thought it would be okay for Raelynn to move into my goddamned cottage? She didn’t even ask me. Not one word. No, I found out when I walked in after an eleven-hour day to find Rae standing in the kitchen making herself a damned sandwich. I should have been pissed that she wasn’t making me one. I should have been pissed that she was wearing fucking cotton shorts that barely covered that tiny little ass of hers. I was pissed because despite not knowing any of this was happening, in a few hours she had turned my goddamned man cave into a fucking girly she-shed.

There were flowers on the table. Yellow fucking flowers. Funeral flowers. Well apparently, it was my fucking funeral.

There were throw pillows on the couch. Where the hell did she find throw pillows to decorate my couch? One with sequins on it. I don’t care that it flipped up to say ‘Fuck Off.’

And worst of all she was burning fucking candles.

I was too pissed to even see what she did to my damn bathroom.

I was never going to get laid again.

And I was supposed to have a friend coming over tonight to do just that. Not anymore.

Now here I am sitting at this godforsaken bar drinking shitty beer and cheap whiskey.

I don’t drink a lot in public. Not anymore. But I am willing to break my one rule for tonight because I would rather be a drunk passed out in the corner here than go back to that flowery, candle scented girly den.

“Dude I don’t think I’ve seen you drink this much in years.”

I shoot a glare over to Mac. “It happens every now and then.”

“Not in public,” he says as he takes a swig of his beer.

“I had a shit day and I need to get off that farm.”

I feel his eyes on me as I stare at the poor booze selection on the wall behind the bar. “You could have just drunk at home.”

“I wanted to be alone.” God knows I wasn’t going to be alone at home anymore.

“So why the hell did you come here?”

“I’m beginning to regret that decision.”

Mac orders two shots from the bartender then turns back toward me. “I told you I was gonna be here tonight. Don’t act like this was your escape. In fact, I invited your sorry ass here.”

I grab one of the shots he ordered and down it.

“Ugh, those were both for me. I am tryin’ to get closer to your level so I can figure out who shoved that stick up your ass.”

I grab his other shot and down that one too while he protests. I take a swig of my beer and shake my head. “It doesn’t matter, man.”

He looks me over as he leans against the bar. I can’t really tell what he is thinking, but the alcohol is catching up to me, so my thoughts aren’t very deductive.

He taps his finger against the bar, a smile growing on his face. “I know what it is.”

“What is?”

“Who is she?”

“Huh?” Maybe I should slow down on the drinks because this conversation is starting to confuse me.