Nic did remember that he seemed kind. That she liked the way he smelled when she kissed his neck. That he had a heavy pour. Traces of remorse still lingered from that night, the way they always did.

She crossed the street. He didn’t see her as he finished opening the doors, turning on the neon sign that hung in the window.

She pulled on the door. A string of bells jingled. He was taking chairs down from tables and he turned at the sound.

“Hey,” he said. He looked surprised, his body frozen, eyes wide.

Nic smiled spontaneously. It had been a long time since her face had held this expression. It felt awkward, even as a wave of warmth was released from the pull of her cheeks.

“Hi,” she said.

“You’re back?” He put down the last chair and walked behind the bar. It was hard not to read into this, how he did not greet her in a more personal manner. And how he chose to put the bar between them.

“I am,” she answered. “There was a new tip about my mother.” She walked to the bar, took a seat on a stool across from where he stood on the other side.

He asked about the tip and she told him—about the woman and the truck and how they’d just gone to meet her, Nic and Officer Reyes, and did he know Reyes, and of course he did. Everyone knows everyone else in this town. He wiped the already clean counter with a bar towel as they spoke. He was nervous. Something about her return had him unsettled.

“Want a drink?” he asked.

“It’s a little early,” she answered.

She said it as though the thought hadn’t nearly consumed her mind.

“Kurt,” the bartender said abruptly.

He poured her a glass of water.

“My name,” he continued. “Kurt Kent—and please don’t make a joke. I’ve heard them all.”

Nic drank the water as her cheeks flushed.

“I feel like I have would have remembered that name.”

“You never asked.”

“Yeah,” Nic replied. And then, “Sorry. I was a bit of a mess.”

Kurt leaned back against the other side of the bar, arms crossed, that look of surrender in his eyes as he smiled slightly.

“Understandable.”

“Not really,” Nic replied. “I was here to search for my mother and I spent every night closing down this bar.”

He started to make excuses for her, people handle fear differently, don’t be so hard on yourself, it wasn’t that bad. . . . But it had been that bad.