Broken Dreams (Broken Series) (2 page)

Ember’s birth had been a severe hiccup in my parent’s relationship, and had ultimately caused their divorce. But Dad’s infidelity brought me a little sister, one I adored. She was going places, and with Dad gone, I felt it my responsibility to make sure she did. Her mother, Victoria, was always pleasant whenever Ember invited me over when we were younger, and she made me feel right at home in their house.

I pulled into the driveway of Mom’s place and parked. I looked over at her slumped form and shook my head in disgust. The woman couldn’t even stay sober for my homecoming. I left her there in the passenger seat, grabbed my bag, and made my way into the house. My room was the smallest of three and when I opened up the bedroom door, it was still a shock to see that all traces of my youth were washed away. The room was made up as a guest room without any of my adolescent boy band posters or my belongings, and although I had time to adjust to the fact that my mother erased a piece of me, it still stung. 

The quotes from poems and my favorite books I’d written on the walls had been painted over with a brilliantly white paint. Even the desk had been painted to cover all the phone numbers I wrote on it in permanent marker. I swallowed the lump in my throat. When I’d come home last Christmas, everything had been painted over. I wasn’t sure how I felt about everything being wiped away.

It was as if she had deleted a piece of my past. I made my way to the painted desk and yanked open the top drawer. I breathed a sigh of relief. All of my photos were neatly stacked inside. At least she hadn’t erased me completely. I closed the drawer, not yet wanting to go down memory lane.

I tossed my bag onto the bed and pulled the door closed behind me as I went to get Mom out of the van. I walked passed Dallas’s bedroom and the door was partially open. I pushed it and stood there, dumbfounded. I hadn’t noticed his room when I’d been home two weeks ago.

Whereas my room had been turned into a guest room, Dallas’s bedroom had become a shrine. Covering the walls were photos he’d taken, photos of him taking photos, and copies of the awards he’d won in the last few years. All were framed and hung proudly. I stared at the walls, knowing how much Dallas would hate it. She did it in tribute, I was sure, but if he saw it, he’d rip each photo, each award from the walls and declare he didn’t want anyone to put him up on a pedestal like that.

But Dallas hadn’t been to Casper in a long time. I tried to remember if I’d come into his room last Christmas. I didn’t think I did, as I would have remembered what she’d done. I stepped out of the room, vaguely aware that it smelled like Dallas. She must know what cologne he wore. I closed the door and never wanted to open it again, hating her for loving him more than me. But I managed a deep breath as I went back outside to help her into bed.

It was going to be a long summer.

Chapter Two

Baker

Owning a bar was a pain in the ass.

Aside from the fact that I had to figure out the payroll and
QuickBooks and all sorts of clerical crap like that, I had to work at least fifty hours a week, usually more. Until Memorial Day, we were only open Thursday and Friday nights and all day Saturday and Sunday. But it wasn’t like those were the only days I worked.

Payroll went through on Mondays and then on Tuesdays we got our liquor shipments, with any beer and keg order coming in on Wednesday. And for the first six months, I tried to do it all myself. I don’t remember sleeping at all during those first six months.

But the summer season was coming and I decided to bite the bullet and hire a bar manager. It was an expense I didn’t really have the money for, but I was also running myself ragged trying to do everything alone. Hiring Jimmy had been a smart choice, but a difficult one. His salary raised my payroll and I wasn’t sure we would make it. I needed to make more money.

I could always pick up more shifts with JP Construction, the company Luke worked for. Luke was my best friend and he was always throwing my name at JP for extra work. I appreciated it, but sometimes it felt like charity. So I tried not to work for JP too much. Once or twice a week helped keep me afloat. It also meant I didn’t have to cut a paycheck for myself yet.

Summer was just around the corner, though, which meant The Landing would be busy as hell. After the renovations I made last fall, I expected a much larger crowd this season. The bar and restaurant literally sat on a dock in the water. It wasn’t the ocean, but an inlet that led to the ocean and so the water was brackish but the tides came and went like they did at the coast. The deck had been completely redone and expanded so our capacity limit had increased. There was also an outside bar for those hot summer nights when being cooped up inside a bar wasn’t as much fun as dancing the night away under the stars.

Inside, I made the bar bigger and the band area now boasted a step-down dance floor and area seating. The band area was also somewhat separate from the bar so that patrons who wanted to hear the music but not necessarily dance could sit at the bar top or choose from several pub tables. It all looked very different and so far, no one had complained.

The renovations tied up a lot of money, though. So I kept a skeleton crew through the winter and now I had to hire more employees, before we really got busy to make sure everyone was trained. More payroll.
Fuck
.

I don’t know what made me think I was qualified to run a bar, other than the fact that I loved to drink. Beer, whiskey, rum, tequila; I loved them all. And now that I owned the place, I hardly ever drank. So much for a frivolous youth. No denying it now; I was an adult. It sucked to grow up.

Not drinking had its perks, though. I was continuously amused by patrons who went overboard and then tried to dance. Or sing. Or speak at all. Regardless of whether they were seasoned veterans or the just
-
turned
-
twenty-one partiers, drunk people were freaking hilarious. On Friday nights, the drunk girls would shake their asses for the drunk guys, and I couldn’t help but notice that they couldn’t dance. I never noticed that when I was the drunken one. Their bodies all convulsed, not even in unison with the beat. It was comical.

I hooked up two kegs to the bar tap and then went to unload the bottles in crates from this morning’s delivery. Even though we didn’t have stellar sales last weekend, I hoped this weekend would be better. I hired a band for Friday and Saturday night, spending more money I didn’t really have, but I didn’t have much choice, either. Bands drew in larger crowds. Larger crowds meant more money in my pocket. Or, well, in the pockets of the bar. Either way, it was win-win.

Once all my inventory was recorded and put away, I went into the beyond
-
tiny office behind the bar. My desk took up most of the space, with a small shelf in the corner filling up the rest. Papers flooded my desk and I groaned in anticipation. It would be a long afternoon.

Several hours later, I looked up and realized Jimmy would be arriving for his shift anytime now. I stretched and yawned.

“Tired, boss?” Jimmy said from the doorway.

“Not a chance. You ready for work tonight?”

“Mostly. I just have to cut up some fruit and make sure the kegs are all full,” he replied.

“I took care of the kegs. Your coolers are all fully stocked, too. You work on fruit,” I said with a grin. Jimmy
hated
cutting fruit, which was exactly why I left it for him.

“Great,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “Are you going to take care of the next schedule, or do you want me to?”

I couldn’t hide my surprise. “You want to do the schedule?”

“Well, yeah. I figured it’s part of my job as bar manager now.”

“Yes. Take care of it.” I all but threw the scheduling paperwork at him. He caught it with a grimace and then shook his head.

“What sort of schedule do you work?” He wasn’t being insubordinate
;
most local owners hardly worked any hours in their establishments at all.

“I’ll bounce on Friday and Saturday nights, but other than that, keep me open and I’ll fill in where necessary.” I stood and stretched again, avoiding another yawn.

“Got it. Will you be here tonight?”

“I’ll be here around six. For now, I’m going to take care of a few things,” I said. “Feel free to use my office for doing the schedule. Open up at four,” I instructed.

He nodded and we looked ridiculous as we moved around each other in the small space as I made my way out. I nodded to him and then took off. I jumped in my truck and rolled my shoulders. I needed to relax. I pulled out my cell as I turned the ignition. My truck roared to life, as did the stereo. I muted the volume and dialed Luke.

“Hey
,
Baker, what’s up?” he answered.

“I’ve got a few hours to kill before I go back to the bar. You done with work?”

“Yeah, just got done. If we’re going out, I need to shower. What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“I was thinking about playing some basketball,” I told him.

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you at the court in fifteen?”

“Sure.”

I pressed the red button on my phone and tossed it in the cup holder. Basketball would be the perfect detox for this already hellish week. I knew Luke could use the time, too.

I drove to the basketball courts and parked in the parking lot of The Wharf. It was the nearest parking lot. The Wharf was a fresh seafood takeout place on the peninsula. It was right on the water with scenic views of the coast. Everyone loved it. The food was great, but most of the tourists went there for the view. Locals ate there because you could eat a lobster that had been caught that day.

I grabbed my ball and shoes out of the backseat and walked across the street to the courts. Luke wasn’t there yet, so I sat on a bench and changed my shoes. My work shoes were the black, slip-resistant, uncomfortable, crappy shoes the state required, but my basketball sneakers were made to fit my feet. Sleek black
-
and
-
white Nikes with the signature checkmark on the side. I pulled the laces tight and tied them. I was proud of my shoes. They were one of the few things I had that were new.

My truck was a ’94 and most of my clothes were old or cheap. I lived on a limited salary, though. So when I spent a hundred bucks on basketball shoes, I made sure they got the respect they deserved. Luke walked up as I finished tying. He sat on the bench beside me and changed his shoes.

“How’s Mallory?” I asked. Her father died a few weeks ago and I knew she wasn’t quite back to normal.

“Surprisingly good. She’s been going to a therapist in Portland, and she’s excited for Rainey to come back,” he replied. He gave me a look and lifted an eyebrow at me suggestively.

I laughed. “Rainey has made it clear that anything we have is only for the summer. She’s not moving back permanently. And that’s perfect for me. A summer fling is just what the doctor ordered.”

Luke shook his head
, then
stood and
grabbed the ball off the bench. He dribbled down the court and I chased after him, determined to win this game. But my heart wasn’t in it.

I thought about Rainey and all she’d been through in the past, even recently. She was a tough woman, I had to give her that.
When she showed up for Joe, Mallory’s dad, to say I was surprised was an understatement.

The bar was filling up
;
business was going to be good. It was Friday night and the band was blaring. I was checking IDs at the door. Nothing safer than being in charge of who got in my bar. It was my insurance so there were no underage kids inside.

A group of women approached and I stamped each of their hands after checking their ages. They wandered inside, giggling and whispering as they passed me. I laughed at their antics but kept my mind on the job. When a blonde woman approached by herself, I straightened up. She gave me a shy smile as a she walked up and looked at me expectantly.

I couldn’t shake the feeling I knew her, but I couldn’t place her. She was familiar but gorgeous; I was certain if I actually knew her, I wouldn’t have forgotten her. Then I looked into her bright green eyes. They were striking and the realization of who she was hit me like a punch in the gut.

“Rainey?” I asked.

“Hey
,
Baker,” she said. Her smile widened.

“You – wow, you look… Damn, girl! You sure have changed,” I said. And as if I hadn’t made enough of a fool of myself, I kept speaking. “You used to be so big!”

My eyes widened as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
I hadn’t meant to say that. Yes, she lost a lot of weight, but her weight never bothered me before. In fact, she looked too skinny now. She wasn’t the same curvy girl I remembered.

“Nice, Baker. Way to welcome me back,” she laughed and shrugged past me into the bar.

I turned to watch her make her way to the table Mallory and Gabby were already seated at. I felt like such a douche.