Snow Job by Tara Wyatt (best large ereader .txt) 📗

it mattered if he slid back down to rock bottom. There was nothing in his life worth fighting for. Nothing that made him want to keep trying to be this man who was nothing but an illusion.

He’d felt like the man he wanted to be with Kayla, but it hadn’t been real. He’d done a good job of convincing everyone, including himself, that it was, but it wasn’t. He was still the same fucked up asshole he’d been on the day he’d gotten marched out of Silver Stream’s offices. So it didn’t fucking matter if he had a beer. It just didn’t.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped inside the Birchwood Tavern, one of the bars in town. There were several, but he knew that the resort staff mainly hung out at Dorothy’s Grill and the Village Pub, so he’d chosen to come here. Not because he was doing anything wrong. He just didn’t feel like company.

The interior of the tavern was simple, with white wainscoting and gray walls, plain wood tables surrounded by scuffed up chairs, and a low ceiling criss-crossed by large beams. The bar took up one side of the space, and that was where he headed. He sat down at one of the high chairs facing the bar, nodding at the bar tender who was drying glasses. Several big screens above the bar were showing college basketball. Right. It was March Madness.

The itchy feeling got even worse as he stared up at the screens, wondering what the odds were on Duke this year. There’d be no harm in just looking it up, right? He slipped his phone from his pocket, going still when he saw a new text message from Kayla. She’d texted and called a lot for the first several days, but then she’d stopped over a week ago. Until now.

Kayla: I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing right now, but I just wanted you know that I’m thinking about you and I hope you’re okay. I accept that you’re doing what you think is best. I hope you think differently soon. I also wanted to let you know that I’m not at Lucian’s anymore. The sublet on Theo’s old apartment ended, so Willa and I are going to sublet it from him for the next couple of months. If you’re ever back in the city, you know where to find me.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, his chest tight.

“What can I getcha?” asked the bartender, bracing his hands on the polished black surface.

“A beer. Whatever you have on tap is fine,” he said, returning his attention to the basketball game. The restless feeling was still there, bigger than before. A minute later, the bartender set a pint glass down in front of him. A foamy head, golden liquid, bubbles streaming from the bottom to the top of the glass. He reached out and closed his fingers around the glass, letting the cold seep into his skin. He turned it a few times, leaving a ring of condensation on the bar.

It was one beer. It was fine.

“Sebastian?”

He turned at the sound of his name. A large group of resort employees had just come in, including Lane and Bodhi. Lane frowned at him, her eyes bouncing between the beer and his hand. Her frown deepened into a scowl and she marched over, picked up the beer and handed it to Bodhi.

“Oh, uh, thanks?” said Bodhi, looking confused as to why Lane had just shoved a drink in his hands.

Lane sat down on the stool next to him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but whatever it is, it’s not worth doing this,” she said quietly, her expression tight. “You’ve been off for a while now, but I didn’t think…” She shook her head. “Are you okay?”

Bodhi sat down on the other side of him, happily sipping Sebastian’s beer.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Really? You don’t want to talk about why you’ve been a miserable bastard at work and why I just found you in a bar, seconds away from throwing away everything you’ve spent the past several months working on?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Lane. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Yes,” she said simply, folding her hands on the bar in front of her. “It does.” Then she waved down the bartender. “Two Cokes, please.” She stared up at the TV screen, seeming to settle in to her seat. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Yeah, man. You’ve been, like, kind of a dick lately,” said Bodhi, taking another sip of the beer. “Did you read the Pema Chodron book?”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it,” Sebastian gritted through his teeth. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, needing the catharsis of jumping off, and Lane had just yanked him back, not letting him go until he told her why he was on the cliff in the first place. Frustration tugged at him, but along with it was something else. Something he recognized as a trickle of relief.

“Fine. Then we’ll sit here in silence.” Lane crossed her arms, pretending to watch the basketball game.

“Is this about that Kayla chick?” asked Bodhi. “I thought things were going good with you guys.”

“They were. Until they weren’t.” Sebastian’s shoulders slumped and he felt deflated. Utterly and completely empty.

“What happened?” asked Bodhi.

Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath. Fighting back the itchiness inside him. He opened his mouth to tell them both to mind their own goddamned business but instead what came out was the entire story. Working with Kayla, getting fired. His knee injury and gambling addiction. Running into Kayla at the retreat and then rescuing her from the snowstorm. The home invasion. Breaking up with Kayla and taking care of his debts, then getting the hell out of the city again.

“Is your brother like, a mob boss or something?” asked Bodhi, his eyes wide.

Before he could answer,