Walking up the back porch, I open the door and head straight to the bottle of whiskey. Taking it out, I pour a shot and put it on the counter, turning and getting my laptop. I’m going to go down memory lane, and I might need help doing it. I sit at the counter and wait for it to boot up.
My leg moves up and down as I wait. It may take just a couple of minutes, but to me, it’s the longest fucking time in the world. Opening the browser, I type Facebook and wait for the page to load. I add in my email address and the password to access my account. I spot Harlow right away on my news feed. Looking up at the red numbers staring at me, one says nine hundred and ninety-nine with a plus sign, and the inbox shows me six hundred and ninety-five messages.
I don’t bother scrolling. Instead, I open my messages and then look at the shot of whiskey. My stomach is a fucking mess. I go down one at a time, ignoring all of them, and wonder if it would even be there six years later. Maybe messages are deleted after a certain time, but then I see her name—Hazel.
I click to open the message, but her picture doesn’t show up. Instead, it’s just an outline of a person. I see her message there, and my stomach burns just like it did all those years ago. It was the worst day of training. I had woken up and felt like I was missing something or someone, and I just couldn’t shake it. I ignored it all day long, only to have it hit me again when I was in the shower. I closed my eyes, and all I saw was my family. My mother and father sitting at the table laughing. My grandfather on his horse, and Hazel laughing with her head back and her hair blowing in the wind.
I read the message and then deactivated my account. I thought about answering, but I knew if I did, I would just string her along, and she deserved better.
My hands touch the keyboard when I type Hey and press enter. As soon as I do it, a red exclamation mark appears. "What the fuck does this mean?" I put the mouse cursor next to the red dot and see the mark of error. I enter another message, and the same thing happens. I go back to my home page and type out her name in the search bar. The five people who come up I don’t even know. "What the fuck?” I grab my phone and call Harlow.
"What’s up, big brother?” she says, answering right away.
"Hey, can you give me your Facebook login?" I ask, signing out of my account.
"Um, no,” she says right away. “Why would you want my login? Use your own." I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Of course it wouldn’t be this easy.
"Fine, bye,” I say, hanging up the phone and calling my mother.
"She’s not going to give you her login," Harlow says, picking up my mother’s cell phone.
"Why do you still live at home?" I ask. “Isn’t it the time you left home?"
"I just ate dinner. And now I’m lying on the couch. Know who cooked me dinner?” she says. “Mom. Now I’m going to go and soak in the tub that the cleaning lady cleaned today."
"You are a spoiled brat,” I say. “Now, can I speak to my mother, please?” I say, shaking my head.
"Well, you can’t. She and Dad went out on a date,” she says. “And she forgot her phone."
"Fine, thanks." I hang up and think about calling my father, but I don’t want to interrupt them on their date.
Instead, I shut down the computer. Tomorrow I’ll go back and ask her what she wanted to tell me all those years ago. Tomorrow.
I lie in bed most of the night, sleep not coming to me. The last time I see the clock, it’s a little past three o’clock in the morning. The knocking wakes me up, and it takes me a second to come to realize what the noise is when the knocking comes again. I get out of bed and run to the door when the knocking continues. “Hold your horses!" I shout. Unlocking the door, I see Ethan standing there with his hands on his hips and his glasses on.
"Good afternoon," he says, pushing me and coming into the house.
"What time is it?" I ask, confused.
"Nine thirty,” he says, and I stare at him in shock. “Jesus, why didn’t my alarm wake me?" I walk back into the house, going to the kitchen to see my phone on the counter. "I must have been in a deep sleep not to hear my alarm."
He slaps me on the back. “Means your body needed the rest." He sits on the stool while I make some coffee. “You have to learn to listen to your body."
"Give me five minutes,” I say. “I’ll be ready to go then." I grab the coffee and then go get dressed.
I push myself in the gym. My whole body burns when I walk out and head back home for a shower. That night, I get into the truck, and my vehicle leads me to drive by Hazel’s place. The lights are out again, and I stop the truck and think about ringing the bell again. But instead, I press the gas and make my way over to the bar.
After parking and getting out, it feels like I just did this yesterday. I pull open the door and step inside, looking around at the bigger space. The back goes far back, and to the side, what used to be the sports bar is now open. I head to the bar, and I stop when I see Harlow behind the bar. She looks up and smiles when she sees me. “Holy, holy,” I say when I see her behind the bar, and she just shakes her head. I look in front of her and see Christopher and clap my hands together. “Talk about bringing back memories." I walk over and slap his back as I sit down next to him.
"This is crazy," Christopher says, bringing the bottle of beer to his mouth. “Never did we sit on this side of the bar."
"Didn’t think I would see you here,” I say honestly.
"On the one day a week I get off, I decided that I deserved to have a cold beer served to me by a beautiful woman,” he says, looking over at Harlow.
"That’s still my sister." I glare at him. “Which means she’s off-limits."
"What can I get you?" Harlow interrupts us with a huge smile on her face.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, and she walks to get me a beer.
"Besides serving a gentleman." She winks at Christopher, and he blushes. "Have you seen Amelia?" She looks at me, turning to the side and motioning with her hand on her stomach. “Her feet have swelled up as big as watermelons. So, I did what any good cousin would do,” she says. “I’m going to work the bar."
"You?" I ask. “Work the bar?"
"A lot has changed in six years," she tells me. “I may live at home, but I do work."
She walks to the end of the bar, and I pick up my beer and hold it out to Christopher. “To old times."
"Fuck, I hope not,” he says, laughing while he clinks his bottle to mine, then brings it to his lips. “God, we were sad."
"We weren’t that sad,” I say, putting the bottle back on the bar.
"We were horny and sad,” he says. “Two things that don’t go together."
I laugh. “We went on dates." He nods now and looks over at Harlow. “You were dating Jenny when I left."
"Yeah,” he says. “Best thing she could give me was my daughter and a divorce." I put my hand to my mouth.
"You married her?" I ask, shocked.
"She was having my kid,” he says. “What was I supposed to do?" I look at him. He’s got a point.