Noah (The Mitchell/Healy Family #1)(13)
Author: Jennifer Foor

As soon as I got back inside I order a couple shots of whiskey, before making my way back to my seat.

Just like she’d promised, my steak dinner was delivered. Even in the poor lit establishment I could finally see her face enough to know that she was cute and maybe not as young as I’d first assumed. While handing me the shots I noticed that she bit her fingernails. It made me think about my sister, Christian. Though extremely beautiful, she never could kick that habit. When I was finally settled somewhere I would call her and have her come visit me.

“Is there anything else I can get ya?” Though the question was directed to me, I couldn’t shake that the attitude attached to it wasn’t. She kept looking at the guy who was bartending.

“I’m good.” I took a bite of my steak and noticed my shot glasses were empty. “How about you bring me a couple more of these?”

She grabbed the glasses and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

A loud crash at the bar a few seconds later caught my attention. I turned to see the girl and guy having words again, but the music was playing and I couldn’t make out what they were saying from so far away. A couple minutes later the guy wiped off his hands and walked out, after saying a few choice words that I was able to make out.

Aside from a few people sitting at the counter drinking, there wasn’t anyone else there. The girl walked over to the corner of the bar and leaned on it, putting her head down where nobody could see. When she stood up straight she had this happy look on her face. I’d seen a lot of crazy bitches in my life, but none that acted the way she was.

The smile was still there when she delivered my next two shots. “Here you go. Two shots of whiskey.”

I looked down and noticed that there were three. “Um, there’s an extra one here.”

“Oh that one’s for me.” She picked it up and held it out in front of me. “Here’s to ass**les that hold us back from our dreams.”

I almost spit the whiskey across the room. Her toast hit so close to home, but I knew she couldn’t possibly know what I was going through. I took the second shot quickly and handed them both to her without another word. As intrigued as I was, I knew I couldn’t get involved.

Her advice was for me to keep driving, and that’s exactly what I planned on doing.

Shalan

As if my day couldn’t get any shittier, my brother had decided that getting a piece of ass was more important than helping me close up the bar. Who knew when he’d come back, if he did at all, though I couldn’t blame him for that part.

If the establishment hadn’t been my only source of income I would have walked away a long time ago, but since my uncle owned it, we all felt obligated to spend every waking moment making sure it didn’t burn to the ground.

It wasn’t like tonight was any different than others. My brother often ran out for pu**y, leaving me to wrangle up the town drunks and make sure they couldn’t locate where I’d hid their keys, at least until they sobered up.

At least this night had come with an added bonus.

It was rare for us to see travelers, since we were located off the main route. I was surprised to spot a very handsome man walking in, and more shocked to notice that he obviously didn’t want to socialize. While he made his way to the farthest seat in the place, I studied his body language, trying to catch a vibe as to why he was there and what for. Not that it even mattered. He’d be gone by morning and the town would be just as boring as it was every other day.

I thought back to a time when my dreams seemed like they could come true; a time when I didn’t understand the concept of money, and how much of it I would actually need to make it on my own. This was also before I started dating Rex, and decided that my dreams could wait.

That was one year ago to the day. I remember because it was also the anniversary of the day that my mother died of breast cancer. I’d only been thirteen when it happened, but it had scarred me for life, especially since my good-for-nothing daddy stopped being a parent to me.

Though I still saw him on occasion, I rarely even spoke of the man, more less depended on him to take care of me when times got tough. I’d been taking care of myself since the day she died, and probably even before that.

My dad was bitter, and withdrawn. He’d given up on himself, which in turn trickled down to my older brother and then to me. I wish I could say that my brother was around to help guide me in the right direction, but being that he’s six years older than me, he was already in college on a scholarship that wouldn’t allow him to take time off, or care for a kid sister that he had nothing in common with except for a little blood.

You see, we may have shared DNA, but that’s about all it was. My dad wasn’t his father, and after being reminded of it a thousand times, my brother was adamant about cutting him off completely.

That left me alone with him.

The picture is even less pretty when I admit to the many times my dad came home drunk and confused that I was my mother. A stiff kick in the balls would free me from what was about to take place, but it didn’t help with the fear I had of living under the same roof with a monster.

Throughout high school I kept my problems bottled up so that no one would see. I knew that my father was a bad man, albeit feared what kind of person I’d have to live with if the state put me in foster care.

It wasn’t until my senior year that my brother showed up at my door. After so long thinking that I had nobody, he told me that we had an uncle, who happened to be living in our town. He’d cut off our mother from the family when she’d run off and eloped with my father. It was also the reason why he’d never come looking for me. He didn’t know I existed. He’d moved out of state and since come home to manage his wife’s father’s saloon. When my brother came back he stopped in for a drink and recognized my uncle after so many long years of not knowing him.

One would think that living in the same small town would provide little to no secrets. Our town was the exception. My father kept my mom at home, first caring for me, and then to take care of herself when she started to get sick, when I was around the age of seven. She never once mentioned her brother, or had pictures to prove that a sibling existed.

I don’t know if she ever reached out to him, and he’s never mentioned if she did.

After we met I had a million questions; the first being could I come live with them. I was almost eighteen and wanted to get away from my dad. With no money, and nothing lined up, I knew I was stuck.