Page 17 of Mountain Pine
I’ve got to get out of here.
Do something.
Anything but sit still.
Picking up my cell, I check my notifications and find none. No surprise. Dean, Nick, and Bennet only reach out for a purpose, not to shoot the shit. Dialing Dean first, he picks up on the second ring. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
“You down for a beer at the Salt Lick?”
“Hang on a sec.”
I hear him muffle the phone and talk to his lovely woman, Grace, then he says, “Yeah sure, what time are you thinking?”
“Now.”
“Want me to pick you up?”
I’m between his house and the bar, so it’s not out of the way for him. Besides, I think getting shitfaced might be my best option for dealing with life tonight. “Yeah. That works.”
“See you soon.”
He’s at my house half an hour later. I expected Grace to be with him, but she’s not. I’m a little relieved. Does that make me an asshole? I love her to death, she’s the best thing to come into Dean’s life, but I don’t want to see a happy couple flaunting their happiness so happily tonight. I want roots. Old friends and a cold beer and so much chaos I can’t think, or dead silence, so I don’t have to talk.
“I called Nick and Bennet. They’re meeting us too.”
“Awesome.” Guess it’s obvious I need a pick-me-up night.
We park in the bar’s tiny lot, and I readjust my baseball hat.
“Taylor couldn’t make it. She’s got other plans.”
Of course, she does. With her man.
Her man that’s not me.
Scrubbing my face doesn’t help. Ordering a beer doesn’t either. Neither does hitting the pool table and beating both Dean and Nick. So, I order a double shot of whisky. And another. And another.
“Damn, man. Slow your roll.” Nick slaps me on the back. “What’s going on with you tonight?”
“Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Bennet chimes and I flip him the bird.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
We’re in the middle of another pool game when I see something that makes my vision turn red.
Austin.
And he’s kissing…
“What. The. Fuck.” I re-grip my pool stick and rush at him from the opposite end of the bar. “Hey!” Not waiting for him to turn and look at me, I crack him in the back with the pool stick.
He hollers, whips around with a sneer, and I grab his throat and yank him off the woman who isn’t Taylor.
Not Taylor. Not Taylor. Not Taylor.
