5. Buster

FIVE

Buster

4:50 pm

I step out of my new condo, locking the door behind me. The hallway still smells of fresh paint and carpet cleaner. It's a stark contrast to the musty basement I've been calling home for the past few months.

The late afternoon sun hits my face as I exit the building. I breathe in deeply, savoring the feeling of freedom. No more tiptoeing around my own house, avoiding Lara's icy glares and passive-aggressive comments.

I pull out my phone and shoot a quick text to Shep:

Hey man, wanna grab a beer? The new place is all set up.

I wait a minute, but no response. Typical Shep, probably elbow-deep in someone's brain right now. He also has a lot on his plate with his own life, so I won't give him too much hell.

Screw it, I'm going anyway. I need a drink after all that unpacking, and my kitchen is still an empty wasteland. My dishes, pots, pans, and cutlery won't arrive until Monday. Williams Sonoma had a good day when I placed my order.

I text Hunter, too. We've been trying to get up forever and keep missing each other. He texts right back.

I'm just finishing up my shift. The Beach Volleyball Olympic finals are on. I can meet you in an hour at Buddies on 5th if that works.

Done. See you there, dickhead.

I've got an hour to kill, so I figure I'll walk around and see what else is around. I'm enjoying taking in my new neighborhood. It's bustling with life—young professionals, couples, families. The sidewalks are lined with trendy restaurants and shops. I'm pretty pumped about being in close walking distance of so much. This is exactly what I needed.

As I round the corner, I spot Elixir. The simple wood sign hanging off the side of the building calls out to me in the fading daylight. I've been here a few times after particularly rough shifts at the hospital. It's a cool spot, always good for people-watching and hand-crafted cocktails. It's fancier than my usual stop, but I think today calls for a fancy drink.

I push open the heavy, thick glass door and step inside. The familiar scent of polished wood and aromatic bitters hits me. It's not too crowded yet, just a few regulars at the bar and a couple in a cozy booth.

"Dr. Hankel!" The bartender, Ben, calls out. "Long time no see, man. What can I get you?"

"Hey, Ben. You're working here now, huh? I'm used to seeing you at the brewery. Are you doing both?"

"No, I stepped up and started slinging the hard stuff. Needed a change."

"I hear ya, man. Change is good. I'll take a whiskey, neat. I just moved in down the street."

Ben's eyebrows shoot up. "No kidding? Welcome to the hood, doc. You're going to love it over here. I live down the street. It's a great spot."

I'm about to take a sip of my whiskey when I spot her. Sitting at the bar's far end, Cole is nursing what looks like a strong martini with a sprig of some herb. My stomach does a little flip. Seriously? Again?

For a moment, I consider pretending I don't see her. But something stops me. Maybe it's the whiskey already warming my insides, or perhaps it's just sheer exhaustion from all this awkwardness. Whatever it is, I make a decision.

I grab my drink and make my way down the bar. As I approach, I can see her tense up slightly. Here goes nothing.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalking me," I say, flashing my most disarming grin.

Cole looks up, startled. Her blue eyes widen for a second before narrowing. "Excuse me?"

I slide onto the stool beside her, ignoring the daggers she's shooting my way. "I mean, three times in one week? That's dedication. I'm flattered, really."

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Progress.

"You're unbelievable," she mutters, siping her drink.

I shrug, still grinning. "I prefer to think of myself as persistent. Look, Cole, I know things have been... weird. But I just moved into the neighborhood, and it seems like the universe is determined to keep throwing us together. Can we maybe start over?"

Cole's face scrunches up in disgust. "What do you mean you 'just moved into the neighborhood'?"

I blink, taken aback by her reaction. "Uh, I literally just moved in today. Park Place Condos. It's pretty nice, right near?—"

The color drains from her face so fast I worry she might faint. She grips her glass tightly, knuckles turning white.

"You've got to be kidding me," she mutters, more to herself than to me.

I can practically feel the tension radiating off her. It's time to lighten the mood before she actually does poke my eyes out.

"Hey, don't worry. I promise I won't stalk you. Do you live around here?"

Her cafe is a few blocks away, so I wouldn't be surprised. When we had our night of acrobatics, she came back to my place, and then I dropped her at her car the next morning. So I never saw where she lived.

Instead of answering me, she turns to face forward and downs the rest of her drink. I guess I've inspired her.

"Thirsty?" I ask.

She doesn't laugh—tough crowd.

I clear my throat, trying again. "I know we got off on the wrong foot. Or, well, maybe the right foot, and then I tripped spectacularly. But I'm not as much of an ass as I seem, I swear."

Cole raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

"Okay, maybe I am sometimes," I admit. "But I'm working on it. And I owe you an apology. For ghosting you after... you know. It wasn't cool, and I'm sorry."

She turns back to me and studies me for a moment, her blue eyes piercing. I hold my breath, waiting.

Cole's expression doesn't soften. Instead, she lets out a humorless laugh.

"Your jokes aren't that funny, Dr. Hankel," she says, her voice flat. "And for your information, I ghosted you, too."

I blink, caught off guard. "You did?"

"Did you have any missed calls from me over the years?" she asks, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

I open my mouth, then close it. She's got me there.

"Well, no," I admit. "But I thought?—"

"You thought what?" Cole interrupts. "That I was pining away for you all this time? Waiting by the phone for the great Dr. Buster Hankel to grace me with his presence again?"

Her words sting more than I'd like to admit. I run a hand through my hair, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

"Look, I didn't mean to imply?—"

"Save it," she cuts me off again. "We had a one-night stand. It was fun, but it was just that—one night. I didn't expect anything more. Clearly, neither did you."

I nod slowly, processing her words. It's true. I hadn't expected anything more at the time. But seeing her now, remembering that night, I can't help but wonder what could have been if I hadn't been such an idiot.

"You're right," I say finally. "I'm sorry for assuming. And for, well, everything else."

Cole sighs, her shoulders dropping slightly. "Look, Buster. I'm sorry for being a bitch. I've had a week. And seeing you after that horrificness at Alabama Adventure, it was just weird and piled on top of everything else. So, while I stand by my statement about your jokes not being funny, I'll say that you're catching me at an especially tense moment."

"Fair enough. I've been working on my stand-up routine, but I keep getting tomatoes thrown at me. You're not the first to complain about my jokes."

That actually gets a smile. She's sadistic, I gather.

"Ben, get this girl another of whatever fancy drink she is enjoying. I owe her a few."

"What about that insanity on Saturday?" she asks. Okay, now we are getting somewhere. I'll call her bringing up another subject an unofficial invite to keep talking.

I nod, relieved she's at least willing to be on speaking terms. "That was fucked up."

"Holy shit. I can't get it out of my head. Did you find out anything? I scoured the news but only saw a mention that a man had fallen from an attraction. It was super vague."

I start to tell her what the detectives said, but it feels so dark, and we are making progress, so I stick to the obvious: "I think they are still investigating it. Apparently, he was working on something on the top, and they aren't sure why he fell."

"Ohhh. Sound salacious. Well, I apologize for not sticking around to speak. I had to go wash his guts off of me."

"At the time, I didn't register that your daughter was with you. Was she okay?"

"She saw it, but luckily, what was happening didn't completely register for her."

I explained that I was there with my brother's daughter, which I think softened her a little more toward me. I'm hoping we can use this tragedy to smooth things over and start off on a new foot.

We go on to talk more about the whole situation. Turns out we were both shaken, understandably. Her daughter Maddie saw it and him, so she had the added layer of explaining it in the terms a four-year-old could understand.

I'm grateful her daughter didn't understand it enough to let it freak her out. Cole took the brunt of it.

I glance at my watch and realize I've lost track of time. As much as I'm enjoying this unexpected chat with Cole, I need to wrap things up.

"Hey, I'm enjoying catching up so much that I hate to cut this short, but I've got to take off. Meeting up with a friend," I say, finishing the last sip of my drink.

Cole nods, her expression neutral. "No problem. It was... interesting seeing you again."

I hesitate for a moment, then decide to take a chance. "Listen, would it be alright if I stop by Brewed Awakening sometime? Get a cup of joe?"

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake. Cole's eyebrows shoot up, and her lips curl into a sardonic smile.

"You know, Buster, that was always an option," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "In case you forgot, it was you who stopped coming in."

I wince internally, feeling like an idiot. Of course, she's right. I'm the one who ghosted her, who avoided her cafe for years because I have no balls. Asking permission now just highlights how poorly I handled things.

"Right," I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. "That was a dumb question. I'm sorry."

Cole shrugs, but I can see the walls going back up behind her eyes. "It's fine. Like I said, it's a coffee shop. Open to the public and all that."

"Let me try that again. Cole, I'll see you at Brewed Awakening sometime."

"Whatevs." She turns up her martini glass even though it is empty. I sign my tab and push it forward a couple of inches, as if that is necessary, looking for the right words to say so as not to dig my hole deeper.

Any goodwill I might have earned during our conversation has now evaporated in front of my face. "Well, thanks for the chat. It really was good to see you. Take care, Cole."

As I stand to leave, I can't help but feel like I've taken one step forward and two steps back. So much for smoothing things over.

I step out of Elixir, the warm evening air a stark contrast to the cold air conditioning at the bar. My mind's still reeling from my interaction with Cole. Damn, I really screwed that up.

As I make my way down the sidewalk towards the sports bar where I'm meeting Hunter, I can't shake the image of Cole's face—those clear blue eyes, the way her lips curled into that sarcastic smile, her natural beauty.

Cole's natural beauty hits me like a punch to the gut. No makeup, hair slightly messy from her workout, and still she looks stunning. And that confidence, that sass—it's intoxicating. I can't believe I let her slip through my fingers.

What the hell was I thinking? Cole would've been a much better choice than Lara, even if it had just been a fling. But no, I had to go and ghost her because I was still hung up on Ally. Real good, Buster.

I kick a pebble on the sidewalk, frustrated with myself. Why'd I have to ask about going to the cafe? I should've just shown up there after this, ordered a coffee, and let things unfold naturally. Instead, I made it awkward and probably ruined any chance of slowly winning her back over.

Not even thinking about being anything other than friends. Just to be able to see her and it be cool, like it was before. Not having her slice me with her eyes.

As I approach the sports bar, I try to shake off these thoughts. I'm here to watch the Olympics with Hunter, not dwell on my failures with women. But even as I push open the door, I can't help but wonder what might have been if I'd made different choices all those years ago.

One thing is for sure, I probably wouldn't be locked in an expensive legal battle with a woman for my house.

I spot Hunter at the bar, his tattooed arms, normally covered by his white doctor's coat, visible beneath his short sleeves. The TV above him blares with the men's Beach Volleyball finals, the announcer's voice barely audible over the din of the crowded sports bar.

"Hey, man!" I call out, clapping Hunter on the shoulder as I slide onto the stool next to him.

Hunter turns, a grin spreading across his face. "Buster! About time you showed up. Thought I was gonna have to watch these guys dig in and spike all by myself."

I chuckle, signaling the bartender. "Wouldn't miss it. How's it going?"

"Same old shit," Hunter shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. "You know how it is at the hospital. Never a dull moment. Glad to cap off my day here with a cold one."

The bartender approaches, and I order a draft. Around us, the bar buzzes with energy. Neon beer signs cast a soft glow over the dark wood paneling, and the smell of nachos and wings wafts from the kitchen.

"Speaking of never dull," I say, nodding towards the TV, "these guys are putting on quite a show."

Hunter grunts in agreement. "Yeah, makes me feel like a lazy ass. When's the last time you hit the gym?"

"This morning, actually," I reply, flexing my bicep jokingly. "Gotta keep up with you young bucks somehow."

We both laugh, the easy camaraderie of old friends settling over us. As we watch the game, trading comments on the players' moves and reminiscing about our own failed attempts at beach volleyball, I feel myself relaxing. The tension from my earlier encounter with Cole begins to fade, replaced by the simple pleasure of hanging out with a buddy.

Hunter takes a long swig of his beer, then turns to me with a raised eyebrow. "So, what's the latest with Lara? You two figure everything out yet?"

I let out a heavy sigh, smoothing my non-existent beard, my stubble rough with my hand. "Man, it's a fucking nightmare. She's refusing to budge on the house."

"The one you just built?" Hunter asks, frowning.

"Yeah, that's the one. When I bought the lot, like a dumbass, I let her convince me to put her name on the deed."

"I remember when you told me you did that. How did she pull that one off again?"

"Stupid move, I know. She said it would help her build credit. I figured we were in it for the long haul, so I went along."

"Damn. She pulled one over on you."

"Fuck, yeah, she did. God, I'm an idiot."

"Does she have any claim besides the fact that she had your balls in her hand and you in a trance?"

"I don't know. She picked out most of the finishes, acted like it was our home. In a way, I guess it was. I had no clue she already had one foot out the door." I shake my head, disgusted at my own naivety. "I financed the whole damn thing and somehow she feels entitled to the house."

Hunter whistles low. "That's rough, buddy. So what's she saying now?"

"She's holding it over my head, claiming she deserves the house or at least half the equity. It's ridiculous. We never even really lived there, you know? I've been crashing in the basement since we moved in."

"Jesus," Hunter mutters. "You got lawyers involved yet?"

I nod, taking a gulp of my beer. "Yeah, it's gotten to that point. My attorney says I've got a good case since I financed it, but Lara's digging her heels in. It's like she's out for blood or something."

"Women," Hunter scoffs, shaking his head. "No offense, but she sounds like a real piece of work."

"You're telling me," I agree, feeling the frustration bubble up inside me. "I just want this over with, you know? But she's dragging it out, making everything as difficult as possible. It's like she's forgotten we were supposed to love each other at some point."

Hunter claps me on the shoulder sympathetically. "Hang in there, man. It'll work out eventually. In the meantime, there's always more beer and beach volleyball to distract us."

I force a laugh, grateful for the attempt at lightening the mood.