December 27th

Saturday night at Moss, the bigger pub in our Colorado Springs suburb, is popping off. That's in part because it's the weekend, but it helps that a lot of tourists are still here after Christmas.

Sitting in a booth with my three closest friends, I shout my order for a third beer at the waitress and pretend not to remember the fact that we fucked two years ago.

That's the problem with a small town, after a while, you start finding the past in most corners. I can't blame the town, it's my fault for getting around so damn much.

The beer hits the table, condensation dripping down the edges, adding to the rings on the old wooden table top.

This repetitive bullshit will be the fucking death of me. I'm bored, bored of this bar, not necessarily these people, but the things we do together.

To be fair, Matt and Cain have children at home, Luke just got married. They're here for me. Because I'm a fucking loser, the last one in our group to get a life. For them, this is a quick time out, a few hours out of their routine lives. It's a fun reprieve for them before they go back to the true joy in their lives.

Luke takes a quick look at his phone, smiling like a sap before he puts it face down beside his third beer.

"The wife?" I ask, not intending for the word to sound so malicious. He doesn't seem to notice, giving me a quick nod. "You have to head home?"

"Na," he lightly laughs, lifting the beer to his mouth. "But after the photo she sent me, I want to."

"That's the check mate move," Matt tells him from across the table, twisting the black band on his ring finger. "She wants you to come home, she just wants it to be your idea."

Luke shrugs. "I don't care, I'm still going home to have sex with my hot wife. Win win."

Cain belches, slamming his empty bottle on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his warm brown hand. "Enjoy it while it lasts mate. You get a few kids in and you're not going home to fuck. You're going home to a bed full of children cockblocking the fuck out of you."

"Couch it is," I say, grinning at him as he blows out a tired breath and palms his clean shaven jaw.

No one expects me to add my two cents, I'm childless, single too thanks to my recent break up. Break up doesn't even seem like the right word. Absolute fucking shit show is what I'd call that situation. Six months later and I'm still not sure how to wrap my head around it.

Like most nights, I'll probably hang out after the three of them have gone home, I'll hook up with some girl, preferably a tourist whose here for the Christmas break, and I'll wake up in the morning and pretend to be fan-fucking-tastic.

My gaze starts to wander the chaos in the bar, a group of elders stand at the juke box, arms linked over their shoulders, their drunken sways make me lightly laugh. Most people in here are in need of a cab, it's crowded, business is booming and I'm happy for Mo, the bar owner and the most consistent woman in my life, aside from Dallas, my sister, off living her best life in California with the man of her dreams.

Even my baby sister has her shit together. Eight years older and I couldn't claim to be as grown up as she is. When I was twenty three, I was driving her to school, packing her lunches and being a full time dad. Sometimes I wondered if that was why I still hadn't grown up, perhaps I was resentful of the fact that my youth was ripped from me when our parents died. Not that I would ever blame her for that. She needed me and I wouldn't regret stepping up.

Not that I was the perfect parental figure.

As I scan the crowd, tuning out the conversation about rash cream going on beside me, I see a familiar face and do a double take.

On the other side of the room, dancing on the table, long lean legs, slim shoulders, angular features and warm brown skin. Yeah, that's Gabby Laurel. Dallas' best friend for as long as I can remember. She's the same, but so fucking different.

Her hair cascades in long brown waves down her back, the end strands touching the curve of her ass, which is barely covered by the hem of her tight silk black slip. She's drunk as hell, hands on her body, moving into her hair. I blink, again and again because I'm not sure what the hell she's even doing here.

After high school, she'd followed Josh to college, her boyfriend and the father of her child. Dallas' boyfriend and Josh are best friends, hence I'm so caught up.

As far as I was aware, she was living in Denver, raising the kid while he went to University of Colorado Denver doing arts and media. A whole lot of useless fucking information but it still made me wonder what she was doing back here, dancing half naked in a bar with. . . I have no idea who the girls are that she's with.

"You know her?" Luke asks, gesturing at Gabby.

"Yeah."

I leave it at that, not wanting to talk about Dallas and Drayton and open up a barrage of questions about being in laws with someone in the NFL. And not just someone, a big someone.

Drayton and Dallas hadn't wasted the last five years after high school. He's in the middle of his second season with the Dallas Cowboys, after having been drafted in the first round as soon as he'd been out of high school for three years. Dallas just spent the last three months back up dancing for a P!NK tour.

The two of them were a hot commodity in the social media world. Girls are obsessed with Drayton. Their relationship is this super coveted fan fare. Fucked if I understood it but whatever. The last thing I want to do is bring up her name and let it spiral into a conversation about how my sister ended up with an NFL star while I'm stuck here, forever, knowing my very real chance of going pro was thwarted.

I've made peace with the fact, I don't resent it, I just don't want to talk about it with these half cut idiots.

"She looks familiar," Cain squints at her, slipping his glasses off the twists on the top of his head.

"No not the glasses," Luke shouts, throwing his arms up. "You look like someone's dad."

"I am someone's dad. Not hers though," Cain says conspiratorially, averting his attention. "Thank fuck. Where are her friends?"

I dare to glance back over at Gabby, whose now wearing the little black slip around her hips, the bottom of her ass out there for whoever to see. She rolls her hips at the assholes cheering her on.

That's when I notice who those assholes are. Regulars at the bar. Creeps in their fifties who hang around and prey on the drunk twenty somethings. I've seen it enough to know it's not safe and Mo isn't always watching hard enough to boot them out.

"Excuse me," I grumble, wiping the last of my beer off of my mouth.

Gabby had been a reckless drinker for as long as I could remember. In high school, she'd passed out on our couch countless weekends, the amount of times I put a bucket beside her, checked her pulse or draped a blanket over her, were endless. Dallas took good care of her, she never complained and they had a good time together but Dallas isn't here and the girls she's with sure as shit don't seem to care if Gabby shakes her ass at half of the bar.

I haven't seen Gabby in four and a half years. Which seems bizarre but our paths never crossed. Not even when it came to Dallas' birthday. Every year, one of us wasn't able to make it. Despite how long it's been, I don't hesitate to grab her elbow and drag her toward the exit.

"What the fuck," she smacks me, the alcohol making her weak and uncoordinated.

It isn't until we're outside that she starts to panic, under the blanket of dark, the seedy parking lot, covered in dirty snow, doesn't offer much light apart from the street lamps at the road.

"Let me go," her voice trembles and I hold both of her arms so she's forced to look at me. "Nathan?!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Her surprise melts into anger. "What are you doing?" She tries to shrug me off, tugging her arms back, it's useless though.

"Where's Josh? Where's your kid? What the hell are you doing shaking your ass in a bar?"

She barks a disbelieving laugh, her bloodshot stare glaring at me. "You're kidding? You're kidding. Nathan, let me go. Don't be fucking weird."

"Someone around to pick you up or should I order a cab?"

It's a losing battle, she tries to rip out of my embrace and I keep hold, forcing her to look at me. Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, she takes a break from fighting me and drops her head between us, exhaling.

"Nathan, let go of me, or I'll flip. I'm not kidding. What I'm doing here is none of your business. I haven't seen you in what, four, five years? You were always fucking over bearing but this is a new level of ridiculous."

"At least I'm concerned about the fatherless behaviour going on in ther—"

"Don't," she shouts, stepping closer and staring up at me through thick long lashes. "Do not use that phrase with me, Nathan. Unbelievable. You do realise by calling it fatherless behaviour, you're pointing the finger at your own gender as being the reason for a woman's problems. Which is true. You're always the problem."

"Fine," I snap, I won't argue with that. It'd been a low blow considering she is fatherless. Foot in mouth asshole behaviour. "Whatever. You're still putting yourself in danger."

"In danger of who?" She asks, sarcasm in her tone. "Once again, men! Ding ding ding. Public enemy number one."

"Yeah, we're the worst," I mutter, disguising my agreement as sarcasm.

To be fair, a lot of us are the fucking worst. Turning at the sound of the pub door opening, I keep a hand on Gabby, loose enough for her not to feel like I'm holding her hostage, even though, I sort of am.

The volume from inside increases for a moment while Matt, Cain and Luke file out, their coats and beanies on. The three of them exchange glances, no doubt concerned about the way I'm outside, holding a drunk girl like a fucking creep.

"Help," Gabby whispers, laughing to herself.

"You good man?" Cain peers between Gabby and I. "You're uh, not taking her home, right?"

Cain was that friend, the one that would never hesitate to have a conversation, no matter how awkward or uncomfortable he thought it might be.

"It's not like that."

"Because she's very drunk," Cain continues, while Matt and Luke hang back, watching. Matt slips his phone out of his pocket and starts tapping the screen, ordering an Uber I'm sure.

"Cain," I blow out a breath, white air clouding between us. "She's my sister's best friend. I'm looking out for her."

"Dallas?" Luke perks up, his phone in his gloved hand. Married or not, he thinks Dallas is hot and I hate it.

"Aw Dal," Gabby slurs. "I miss that girl."

"You and me both," I bite. "She'd have been dealing with this bullshit instead of me."

"You don't have to deal with me. I'm a grown woman now, Nathan. I can look out for myself."

She didn't need to remind me she was a grown woman, I had been trying not to notice the sharp angles of her face, the loss of that adolescent roundness in her cheeks. Her perk tits and the fullness of her lower torso and hips.

She'd always been lean and tall, but adulthood, and likely a baby, had given her a mature figure and damn if it didn't suit her. I like the little stamp tattoos on her arm too, from the wrist to her shoulder is littered with fine line tattoos, like patch work. They suit her complexion.

"I'm going to get her home," I tell the guys, ignoring the scowl on her drunken face.

"I'll come," Cain offers.

"I'm not a fucking rapist, Cain," I say. "I can get her home without a babysitter. For fucks sakes, I know I sleep around but I'm not an animal."

He claps me on the shoulder. "I'll come man. If not for her, for you. There's no harm in having a third person witness. Should either party make claims against another, it keeps it above board."

That's the lawyer in Cain coming out. I had to appreciate the sentiments. He'd dealt with a lot of false accusations, domestic violence, sexual assault.

"I don't feel comfortable going anywhere with two men who can over power me," Gabby glares at us, goosebumps forming on her skin. It hadn't occurred to me that she might be freezing in these temperatures.

I quickly slip off my coat, still wearing a hoodie underneath it.

"No thanks," she pushes it off her shoulders when I try to drape it over her.

I gape. "Seriously? You're going to turn down a fucking jacket. Grow up."

"Here's our Uber," Matt tells us when the headlights illuminate the car park entrance. It stops on the other side, waiting. "Have a good night."

"Cain," I sigh, waving to Matt and Luke before I drape the coat on Gabby again. "Go with them. We'll be fine. I've known this idiot for a long time. In any other situation, I would accept the offer, but I know Gabrielle, she knows me, it's not an issue."

Gabby nods, her loose waves cascading around her now covered shoulders. "He's pissing me off, but he's not dangerous."

Cain hesitates, his dark brown eyes darting between the two of us. Finally, with a sigh that billows white air into the night, he relents. "Fine. Call me if you need me though."

We clap hands, my other hand still clutching Gabby's elbow, despite her irritation. "Will do. Thanks, man."

"I don't remember you being this much of an asshole," Gabby says, watching the Uber pull out of the lot. "In fact, quite the opposite."

"I don't remember you being this much of a pain in the ass."

She gives me a flat stare and turns around, marching back to the pub door.

"Where are you going?"

Over her shoulder, she snaps, "to get my bag and tell the girls I'm leaving. Asshole."

"You got two minutes."

Her answer is the middle finger as she aggressively swings the door open and disappears inside. Not before I notice the shape of her long toned fucking legs.

Pulling my cellphone out of my pocket, I go to call Dallas. But then I think better of it. It's a miracle I can get past the anger and for a moment, consider Gabby might be dealing with something and whether or not Dallas knows it, is none of my business. I'm not getting involved further than taking her home.

She comes back three minutes later, by which time the Uber is pulling into the lot. Strike two for her group of fucking friends, none of them walked her out to see who she was going home with.

"Your girlfriends are the assholes," I tell her, sitting beside her in the backseat. The burnt orange street lamps illuminate her scowl, as well as the luminous shimmer on her cheekbones.

"Not one of them wanted to make sure you weren't going home with some pervert?"

She cuts a glance at me. "Is that not what this is? You are some pervert."

"Nice. Where the hell did the old Gabby go? Hmm? You were a nice girl back then."

"Or was I a teenager who would never have had the guts to tell my best friends big brother to stop being a hovering asshole whenever we wanted to go out?"

That shut me up.

"As if I would've been rude back then. I'm not rude now, I'm just not a pushover, Nathan. Stop treating me like a child."

"Stop acting like one."

"I was drinking."

"And shaking your bare ass at half of Castle Rock."

She throws herself back against the leather seats and folds her arms. "I can't believe I'm back here. Castle Rock."

"Why are you back here?"

"Where are we going?" Gabby peers out the window, her hair framing her face.

"To mine."

"No."

"You didn't tell me where you were staying," I said, "what address was I supposed to enter?"

She leans forward, pressing her face close enough to the perspex glass that her breath fogs it. "Can we re route?"

The driver nods. "Address?"

She lets him know her mom's address and settles back again, the dress hitching high on her thigh, exposing the little black band of her underwear. I look away.

"You in town for a while?" I ask, hoping to diffuse the tension. "Dallas is coming back tomorrow. She's visiting over New Years."

Gabby doesn't say anything, she faces the window, elbow on the door jamb until the Uber pulls up in front of her mom's house.

It hasn't changed since the last time I gave Dallas a ride here, or picked her up. Without a word, Gabby gets out of the car, slams the door shut and disappears with my jacket still draped around her shoulders.