Page 42 of We Drank the Dawn

I jerked my head up. “Oh, uh…”

Drinking hadn’t really been on my mind for the evening, but now that I had the opportunity, numbing for a few minutes sounded like a solution. I straightened up, “What do you have on draft?”

“Let’s see. We got Lone Star, Shiner Bock, Coors, Bud Lite, and a locally-brewed stout.”

“I’ll take the stout.”

“Good choice.” He tapped the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

I raked my fingers through the top of my hair again as the truth niggled at the back of my mind. Even though I didn’t want to, I needed to talk to Sarah. I needed to say it point blank: this wasn’t working. By protecting her feelings now, I was delaying her moving on from all this. If I just ripped off the bandaid…

A glass kissed the counter in front of me, the heavy yeasty smell infiltrating my senses.

“Wanna open a tab?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“No problem, brother. Let me know when you need more.”

I took a long swig, relishing in the way the velvety beer filled my mouth and throat. Cancer made me wary of most substances, and Sarah wasn’t a big fan of the stuff due to her past, so we partook sparingly.

But alcohol certainly had its uses.

The stout slid down easily and it wasn’t long before I was flagging down the bartender for another.

THIRTEEN

Sarah

Hollie checked the men’s restroom for Peter when she went to the bathroom. On her journey back to the table, she looked up and caught my eye, giving her head a light shake.

I deflated. Where on earth was he?

Peter was a grown adult and capable of caring for himself, but worry had completely overtaken my brain. He had been gone for thirty-five minutes. Bea’s set had come and gone, and the night wasn’t far from ending. I had already searched the restaurant for him and found him nowhere. He wasn’t picking up his phone either. If he had gotten turned around, he would’ve asked someone for help.

Hollie eased into her seat across from me. “I even opened the door to the men’s bathroom and called his name. He’s not in there.”

My heart turned in my chest. “Something’s not right.”

Hollie’s brow furrowed in concern as she nodded. “Yeah, that’s weird.”

“I’m going to look around one more time.”

“Okay.”

I pushed away from my seat and scanned the room, my eyes beginning at the far right wall where he started toward the restroom. I perused every table and chair, glanced around the front door, and even checked the benches by the hostess’ stand. And once again, I moved into the second wing of the restaurant, looking around the bar. Since the last time I checked, a lot of the guests had vacated, and there were far more empty tables than before.

Maybe the lack of people was the reason I finally saw him.

There he sat—tucked at the very end of the bar—against the back wall.

My mouth dropped open when I saw him tip a beer glass and drain the last few drops.

Peter was drinking? I shook my head, blinking because I didn’t believe it. Peter so rarely drank that the sight of him doing it now shocked me. My feet propelled me to his spot at the counter, my concern for his safety now muted by a familiar wave of panic. That sight—a man I loved lifting a beer to his lips—ripped open hidden scars in my heart.

I swallowed against my tight throat. “Peter.”

He looked up, his eyes finding my face with their uncanny ability.