Chapter Nine

Gage

" T hanks again for coming with me," I say, looking over at Max, who is focused on driving us into town. Max had come by the lighthouse, apologized for his crankiness, and agreed to accompany me to the bar now that it's considered safe.

"No problem. How ya feeling about heading back in there?"

Should I confess to him about the rapid drumming in my chest and the queasiness in my stomach, the uncertainty gripping me, leaving me filled with dread? Or should I do what people expect of me? Opting for the latter option, I use my sense of humor to divert his attention.

"I'm doing great. Ready to head back home and sleep in my own bed. I can't bear sleeping on that ancient sofa any longer. It's making me feel old, man. Whenever I stand up, it feels like my back has aged by five years. I mean, come on, I'm too pretty to be old."

His eyes meet mine, but his doubtful expression tells me that my joking hasn't quite hit the mark. Without missing a beat, I offer him a reassuring smile.

When his eyes dart back to the road, I abandon my smile and turn my attention to the passing scenery outside the window.

It doesn't take long before we pull up in front of Liquid Hope. Peering through the truck window, the world outside seems unchanged, except for the eerie blackness of the glass from within. Perhaps it won't be as terrible as I initially thought.

A gentle hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Are you ready to go in?"

With a quiet, deep breath, I steel myself for the task at hand, putting on a fake smile as I turn to face Max. "Let's get this done. We should go around the back, so people don't think the place is open when we enter through the front." The last thing I need right now is the locals. They mean well, but I need to face all this first before I can face them. I need the chance to come to terms with the results of my stubbornness, so I can slip my mask back on without flinching. So I can exude my usual charm without feeling like I'm going to vomit. Without feeling like a fake.

Max stays close as I approach the back door, the anticipation building as I grasp the cold metal of my key and place it in the lock. My hand trembles uncontrollably, nearly losing grip on the key, and my heart thumps rapidly in my chest. It feels like a brass band has made a home inside me, with the relentless boom-boom-boom going on.

Take responsibility for your actions and face the consequences; it's your fault.

The door feels cool against my head as I lean against it to take a few deep breaths, using this moment to compose myself before stepping inside.

"Come on, man. You've got this." Max provides comfort by rubbing my back. "I know I've been a shitty friend recently, but I'm here now. No matter what's happened in there, we'll handle it, come up with a plan, and fix everything. It won't be long before this place is up and running again."

How do I tell him it's not that simple? Lifting my head off the door, I turn the key and pull it open and we're instantly hit with the pungent smell of smoke.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness walking in, I notice a thin, black layer all around us that coats the kitchen work surfaces and equipment, most likely dust that settled after the smoke cleared. There's a vomit smell emanating from the pot on the stove that left no doubt in my mind that it was the chowder Jaxon and Bert had been preparing on the day of the fire. Thankfully, everything else in here seems to be intact.

With each step toward the bar, the smell of the smoke grows increasingly unpleasant. It's a harsh, acrid scent that makes us cover our mouths with our shirts to avoid breathing in the dusty air. Max opens a few windows to let the air circulate. After a couple of minutes, I lower my shirt and glide my hand over a table as I pass. A layer of dark soot coats the entire thing and all its surroundings. The smell in here will no doubt be ingrained into the worn-out upholstery of the fabric chairs and drab curtains that hang loosely on a few of the windows.

Despite its dilapidated state, the space still holds a glimmer of joy, the echoes of laughter and lively conversation resonating in its dark corners, reminding me of the vibrant moments it once hosted. My hand trembles as it lands on the cold, rough bar top, my mind filled with anxious thoughts of failure and uncertainty as I make a promise to do everything in my power to bring back the long-lost joy that this place so desperately needs.

"The bar is gonna need a complete overhaul," Max tells me. "Even with thorough cleaning, the smell will probably still linger. The most practical thing is to gut this place completely. Strip the walls, repaint them, sand this floor back down, re-stain it, give everything a good cleaning, chuck out everything fabric, and start fresh."

Max is rambling through a long list of things that need to be taken care of. I love him for it, but my current financial situation will stop me from doing any of it. Max carries on talking, oblivious to the inner struggles I'm grappling with. I offer him a slight smile as he walks by.

"Let's go check out the damage in the back where the fire started."

The panel that I neglected and now regret.

Max is the first to enter through the door, which is now burned on one side. As soon as we enter the walkway that connects the bar and the stairs up to my apartment, the smell hits like a wave, overpowering and intense. Max props the door open with the fire extinguisher I'd used. I cover my mouth and nose with my T-shirt again. Looking around, I notice the flames left black scorch marks on everything they touched, including the wall behind the panel that housed the power and the ceiling. The flames completely burned the coats that had been hanging on hooks next to it; they're now ash on the floor. This is a big, fat fucking mess, and it's all my fault.

I make my way to the stairs behind the panel and find a place to sit. The flames were described by the fire chief as relatively small and confined to the area around the power circuit. Thanks to the firemen's rapid response, the flames were quickly extinguished. Most of the damage is from smoke. According to him, if I hadn't intervened, the situation could've escalated into something much worse, but I should have put my safety first. In more polite terms, he indirectly implied that I was a dumbass for going back in.

The unpleasant smell lingers as I pull my shirt away from my face, but I'm feeling suffocated by my tee. Mindful of my nearly healed arm that's no longer in a sling, I rest my head in my hands. Words cannot capture the depth of my emotions at this moment.

"Hey, come on." Max squats in front of me, his hands firmly gripping my shoulders, his voice filled with reassurance. "We can sort this out. I understand the situation may seem dire right now. It's a lot to take in, but I can fix most of the damage. We can fix this up, Gage. But the power issue? It's better to get help from a professional, to satisfy the fire chief. They'll probably require evidence of proper repairs. Thankfully, your insurance should cover the expenses."

"I can't do this," I whisper, my voice filled with regret. "I fucked up so bad, Max."

Tears well up in my eyes, but I don't let them fall. I don't get to be upset. The burden of all this is crushing me like a ton of bricks. I need to tell him and hope he understands as I pour my heart out to him, finally sharing the struggles I've been facing. That I need help, and I can't continue concealing this from him. Max's my best friend, and it's only fair that he knows the truth.

"Even if there was insurance, it wouldn't matter because I neglected to do the maintenance in this place, making a payout unlikely."

"What do you mean, there's no insurance?" Disbelief coats Max's voice.

"I don't even know where to start, honestly."

"Maybe at the beginning?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Gage, I need to know the whole story. What's really going on?" He stands upright. "No more bullshit, okay?"

I sit upright, raking my fingers through my hair, and then squeeze my eyes shut. At the very least, I need to be honest with Max. I find him gazing down at me the moment I open my eyes.

"Aunt P left this place in a mess."

"That's not news. We all know she did," he says with an exasperated tone.

"Yeah, well, each time I raised the issue of repairs, she would shut me down, assuring me she had it taken care of and advising me to stay out of her business. You know what she was like—once she shut you down, there was no chance of winning an argument. When I signed the deed for this place after she died, I was really hopeful it would be the start of something amazing for me. My own bar . I had grand plans to refurbish it all, make this place like new again."

"What happened to the plans?"

"Aunt P happened, that's what. It turns out she had a gambling addiction. She'd taken out a significant mortgage on this place, using it to settle her debts. But she'd stopped making repayments a few months before her death, resulting in even more debt piling up. With a stroke of the pen, her debts instantly transferred to me, and now I wrestle to keep up with the monthly payments. After paying the bills and giving Bert his wage, there's no money left for repairs. Since taking over, I've never given myself a salary. I even had to let the insurance lapse. Fortunately, I have a place to live and can manage with leftover food from the kitchen."

"Fucking hell, Gage. Why didn't you say anything?" Max's voice is a mixture of anger and concern; his brows scrunched into a deep frown.

"It's my responsibility to solve these issues, and I wanted to avoid appearing stupid to others for taking on a business burdened with debt."

"No one thinks you're stupid, especially not me. We're friends, and we always support each other. You should've come to me, Gage."

"Yeah, well, I felt like an idiot for not realizing the truth until it was too late, for not digging deeper into things while she was alive, or even before I took this place on. In the beginning, I was confident in my ability to manage things, but the reality is business is not exactly thriving. It's understandable why tourists are reluctant to come here again once they see the condition of the place. It's been a lot, that's for sure. I can't tell you how many countless sleepless nights I've had worrying about it all."

"Fuck, that cunning old broad. And you had absolutely no inkling?"

"Nope. I just figured she didn't wanna change anything. I'm quite the nephew, aren't I?"

"Come here, you big goon."

Max pulls me in for a hug. Typically, I'd have a joke prepared for him, but I can't muster the energy for one. There's something cathartic about opening up and sharing the shit I've been dealing with. As he pulls back, his hands settle on my shoulders. He locks his earnest gaze with mine. "Let's promise never to keep secrets from each other again, okay? We'll work together to resolve everything. I'm sure the town will lend a hand as well."

"No!" I exclaim loudly. "I don't want them to realize the extent of my failure. I gotta handle this situation without them knowing. They're already filled with disappointment toward me for the fire. I don't need to add more fuel to the fire, so to speak."

"No one is disappointed in you, but if you'd rather keep it quiet, we'll make sure no one finds out. We can sit down and work out a plan, breaking it down into small, manageable steps that we can tackle one by one."

"Thanks for not busting my chops about all this."

"Let's focus on making this bar the best it can be, so when the doors open, it can be the heart of the community again."

Max is right; this place needs to be reopened. It's a hidden gem waiting to be rediscovered.

The moment I touch his shoulders, I feel the tangible sense of unity and camaraderie that defines our deep friendship.

"With you as my friend, I feel like the luckiest bastard alive!"

"Kiss me, and you'll get punched," he says, smiling.

I can't help but laugh out loud, and it's such a good feeling. A weight has been lifted, and my burden is no longer just mine to carry. Stepping backward, I lower my arms. "Okay, let's go see how the apartment looks so I can save my pretty back from your couch."