Page 27 of Icy Pour

“I thought that was you! How you doing? Haven’t seen you around Miller’s Pub lately.”

Walt clears his throat as Random Guy Bob continues to grill him. “Yeah; opened my own place so haven’t been back there lately.”

“You’re kidding? I’ll have to bring all the guys by for drinks! Where’s it at?”

“Over on Water Street. Walt’s on Water.”

“I’ll come check it out,” he says, looking my way. “Who’s your friend?”

My teeth clench behind my smile. This is not an ‘introduce me to your friend’ question. His judgment is practically tattooed across his smug face. Shit.

“Oh, this is Johnny. He’s my, uh…he’s my…”

“I’m his bartender.” I reach across Walt to shake Bob’s hand as he stands on the steps next to our seats. “Been telling this joker for a while he needs to come see a Riders game.”

His eyes narrow, darting between the two of us, as a bead of sweat forms on Walt’s forehead. I want to reach over and hold his hand, rub his back, do something, anything, to help. But I hold back, not wanting to make things worse.

“Glad you finally got this grump out to see a game.”

I take a deep breath. Bob seemingly believes what we’re telling him. I mean, it is the damn truth, so we’re not lying. Nope. Nothing to see here.

“Good seeing you, Bob,” Walt says.

“Yeah, you too. I’ll bring the guys by sometime soon.”

“We’ll see you around.”

“Nice to meet you, Bob!” I shout as he walks away and throws a halfhearted wave over his shoulder.

“Fuck,” Walt says under his breath.

“Hey.” I inch away, reminding my body once more not to touch him or freak him out in the slightest. “It’s okay. I am your bartender. All we did was tell the truth. Just two co-workers, watching sports.”

He takes a deep breath as he nods to himself. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right. Just a couple of guys watching hockey. It’s fine.”

Except it’s not fine. He doesn’t say another word for the last two minutes of the game. He doesn’t look my way. He doesn’t eat another piece of popcorn. He only stares at the players on the ice in front of us, completely in a trance fueled by fear. One that starts to creep into my chest before I shut it down like the goalie who just grabbed the puck headed for the net.

I gave him an out. I told him we didn’t have to come here. He said he wanted to try. A pit forms in my stomach. Maybe trying isn’t enough? Maybe you’ve got to want something so bad you’ll do anything to make it happen.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye as we drive back to the bar. I know I would. I’d go all in for this man. But he’s not there yet. And now I’m not sure he’ll ever be.

CHAPTER 17

WALT

“You wanna talk about what happened back there?” Johnny asks when we arrive back at my apartment.

“No.”

“Walt—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” The words come out bitter, regret sitting like bile in my throat. I don’t even know what happened back there. Did I get outed the first time I went anywhere public with the man I had in my apartment last night? Was Bob being his typical nosy asshole self? Was he completely unaware of anything between Johnny and me? Is this simply my paranoia?

Fuck.

“I’m…shit. I’m sorry.” I rub the back of my neck. “I shouldn’t take it out on you. It was my stupid idea to go to the game anyway.”

I throw my keys and shuck off my jacket. But Johnny leaves his on, his gaze glued to the floor.