8. Ten Years’ Worth of Chances

EIGHT

TEN YEARS' WORTH OF CHANCES

Dessa

"He's been sitting over there all night." Nora props her elbow on the bar, her blonde braid draping over her shoulder. "You're not going to go talk to him?"

"No. He had his chance. I have absolutely nothing to say to him. He knows how I feel. He can wallow by himself all night if he wants to." I busy myself with washing a stack of pint glasses.

Since I stormed away from Garrett two hours ago, he's been sitting at a pub table in the corner of the bar, his eyes fixed on the glass in front of him. All night I've been discreetly stealing glances at him while avoiding being caught. I'm torn between wanting to punch him in the face or rip his heart out, since that's what he did to me. Pirates' code and all. An eye for an eye. Or in my case, a heart for a heart. The first one seems less messy, but the second would certainly get the point across.

Nora peers at Garrett, then at me. "The man made you cookies. The least you can do is talk to him."

I slam the door on the glass washer under the counter, the sharp noise reverberating behind the bar. "He's going to need to do better than cookies after ghosting me for ten years."

Her head shakes in disbelief. "I don't think you're giving him a fair chance. He made you cookies that you fed to the neighborhood raccoons. I would swoon if a guy baked me cookies."

I roll my eyes. "You don't ghost your best friend for ten years and expect a fair chance. He had ten years' worth of chances, and you know what he did? Nothing. So, I'm going to do the same." I fight to keep the bite out of my tone since she doesn't deserve my wrath.

"I don't know how you have so much will power to resist him. Garrett Dawson on TV, gorgeous. Garrett Dawson in person disintegrates my panties." She twists the end of her hair around her finger as she stares wistfully at Garrett.

I hate that she's not wrong. Garrett's always been good looking. As a teenager, he always had a boyish charm to him. But now, somehow time has made him even more attractive. My nipples pebble beneath my shirt. Dammit. Traitorous body. I spin around, avoiding both of them. "But he's still a jackass."

For the rest of the night, he sits at a table tucked away in the far corner, alone. By one in the morning, the bar has mostly emptied, the faint sound of a melancholic song echoing through the deserted space. Garrett's still slumped in the corner, in the same spot he's been all night .

I lean across the bar to where Nora is sweeping under the stools. "Tell him he has to leave." I nod toward Garrett.

"He's your friend, you tell him."

"He's not my friend."

"You know him more than I do."

"Please do this one thing for me." I link my hands together, on the verge of begging.

"No, he's your problem and you're going to deal with him yourself. I have to run to the back." She takes the broom and saunters to the other side of the bar.

"Ugh. Fine." I huff. "See if I do you any favors," I mumble under my breath. I stomp to the corner where Garrett's seated, each footfall growing louder with every step. Crossing my arms over my chest, I come to a stop when I reach his table. "We're closing. You need to leave."

He lifts his head to meet mine. "Let's talk for five minutes."

"I have absolutely nothing to say to you." I refuse to let even a hint of vulnerability escape. He doesn't deserve it.

"After all these years, you really have nothing to say to me?" His lips tip up in the corner because he knows I have a whole lot I want to say to him, but it's not worth a single breath.

"I could spend hours, probably days, telling you everything you did to hurt me, but it's not worth it anymore. I've moved on." Technically, I haven't moved on. I'll never move on, but I don't have it in me to hash it out with Garrett.

He rests his elbows on the table and leans in. "So that's it. Just like that. It's over?"

"What do you want?" I drop my arms to my sides in defeat. "A parting gift? It's done, Garrett. I'm done."

Without saying another word, he rises to his feet, and I retreat a step to give him more room. With one last glance at me, his green eyes bore into mine. Then he turns on his heel and stomps out the front door.

Once the door slams behind him, I race over and lock it. With a heavy exhale, I finally let my shoulders sag. I expected him to put up a bigger fight than that, since he's been doing it all night. At least it's done. Hopefully, I won't need to see him again until the wedding.

For the next thirty minutes, Nora and I finish cleaning the bar and restocking a few of the coolers. Once we're finished, I turn off the lights and punch in the security code before leaving.

We're halfway across the dimly lit parking lot when I catch sight of a dark figure leaning against my car. I reach into my purse and wrap my fingers around a small, plastic case, my thumb hovering over the trigger just in case. They have one ankle crossed over the other, and a baseball cap perched on their head. Immediately, I recognize that it's Garrett. When I'm several feet away, he lifts his head.

I release my grip on the pepper spray and roll my eyes. I guess I don't have to wait until the wedding. "Do you make it a habit of leaning against strangers' cars?"

He pushes off and takes two cautious footsteps toward me. "It was the ‘I Don't Eat My Homies' bumper sticker that tipped me off it's yours and not some stranger's."

"Oh yeah. That's definitely not mine. I like meat," Nora chimes in.

I glare at Nora before turning my attention back to Garrett. "Go home. I told you I'm done. I want to go home and go to bed."

"This isn't done. Me leaving was a shitty thing to do, but please give me five minutes. That's all I ask."

I scoff. "It was more than shitty. Plus, five minutes is more than what you deserve." I open my purse and fish around for the martini glass key chain but I'm missing my phone. Shit. I glance over my shoulder at Nora. "I have to go back inside. I forgot my phone."

"Do you want me to wait for you?" she asks.

"No." I wave her off. "It'll be fine. I'll only be a couple of minutes. You can go. I'll be alright."

"Are you sure? I don't mind." Her gaze flits from me to Garrett.

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow." As she strolls to her car, I turn around and beeline it back toward Porter's.

Garrett's footsteps are hot on my heels. "Talk to me."

"I'm not doing this. I'm tired. I just want to find my phone and go home." My body jerks as I spin around, slamming into his hard chest. Citrus and amber invade my nostrils. My kryptonite. As teenagers I would always borrow—or steal—his sweatshirts because I was always cold. I had a habit of lifting the collar and inhaling the comforting scent. Then I'm reminded of the painful memory of him leaving and suddenly, it's not so comforting. As I rest my palms on his chest, his warmth radiates to my hands. Tingles bottle rocket through my body until I'm reminded why I hate him. I shove him away. "Why are you so close?"

His balance falters as he takes a step back, giving me a few inches of space. "Fine, if you don't want to talk, I'm going to talk, and you'll listen."

"I don't want to do that either." I shove the key into the lock and turn. With a hard push, I'm through the door, but before I can close it behind me, Garrett slides through the opening. I roll my eyes. With a twist of the lock, the deadbolt slides into place, and I stomp across the bar.

"Will you stop so I can talk to you?"

"I don't need to stop. I'm fully capable of multitasking, so if you have anything to say, you can say it now." I shrug out of my coat and set it on the bar, along with my wallet before stomping down the hallway. When I reach Jake's office, I punch in the code to prevent the alarm from going off.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." His voice trails behind me.

I continue to storm down the hallway and into the employee break room. Once inside, I flip on the light switch. Harsh fluorescent lights illuminate the room. "So, what was it supposed to be like?" I yank open the small metal locker and rifle through a stack of papers and shove a bag of granola to the opposite side. Shit. No phone.

"I don't know, but not this."

The sound of metal slamming shut echoes through the room as I spin around. Garrett's leaning against a table, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Really? Is that all you have to say? You want to talk to me and all you have to say is, ‘It wasn't supposed to be like this.' That's your whole five-minute speech? Guess what, Garrett? It is like this." I shoulder past him, turning off the light, shrouding him in the darkness. Once in the hallway, I head toward the bar again.

From behind me, I hear Garrett's voice, strained and full of tension. "I was going through a lot, and I needed to get away."

"Congratulations, you certainly got away. For ten years." My steps quicken as I enter behind the bar. I prowl the length as I peer underneath where the glasses are kept.

"I'm sorry about that."

I stop in my tracks and whip around to face him, my nostrils flaring. "Is that all you're sorry about?"

"What else do you want me to say?" He throws his hands in the air.

I huff out a humorless laugh. "Clearly, you're not sorry. Not at all." I glide past him again. He turns to follow me down the hallway. Swiftly, I veer right into the storage room and turn on the light. In front of me are three walls covered with shelves filled with bottles of liquor and other various supplies. I start on one side of the room and scan each shelf, hoping to find my phone. Out of nowhere, a hard thump echoes across the cement, followed by gritty scraping.

"Shit," Garrett mutters.

A second later, something smacks against my shoe. I glance down and a piece of wood is resting next to my foot. My heart pounds in my chest, its rapid beats echoing in my ears as panic sets in. It's not just any piece of wood, but the one keeping the door propped open. As soon as I glance up, the supply room door is halfway closed.

"Look, I'm here now trying to make amends?—"

"Nooo!" I screech.