Friday night was busier than usual with just Nick and me behind the bar since Jax had taken the weekend off to visit Calla in Shepherdstown. Despite the fact I looked like a hot mess with my hair pulled up in a messy bun and wearing an old tank top that was about two sizes too big, I was grateful for the fact the night was flying by. Lack of sleep was catching up with me, and my already crappy mood was somewhere between “fuck me land” and “fuck off town.”

As the night progressed, my mood veered sharply into “everything sucks city.” Normally Reece spent Friday nights at Mona’s. Maybe not the whole night, but he usually showed up by ten. His normal buds were here, at their table, but there was no sign of Reece, and I knew it was because of me.

Dean showed up closer to eleven, and I was hiding from dealing with him on the other side of the bar. Nick was blocking him, and I don’t know what was said to Dean to make him leave around midnight, and I really didn’t care at the moment.

Yeah, everything sucked right now.

Keeping a smile plastered across my face was harder than it should have been as I mixed drinks and chatted with those at the bar. Staying focused on my job was the only thing getting me through the shift.

That and the knowledge there was a huge bag of nachos at home that I was so going to make my bitch when I got off. I was going to smother them in Swiss cheese, nuke the bastards, and go to town.

Sherwood, our temporary head cook in charge, had just come back from break when I turned to help the newest customer who managed to squeeze in at the bar.

My mouth dropped open. Good God, what was up with tonight?

Henry Williams stood in front of me, and he looked a little better than the last time I’d seen him. Like he might’ve gotten some sun. Good for him.

“I just want to talk,” he said, voice barely audible over the music.

I clenched the bottle of Jack so tightly I was surprised it didn’t explode. “I can’t believe you’re standing here,” I said dumbly.

“I’ve been seeing Charlie.” He leaned in, and heat swept down the back of my neck. “I know he’s really bad and—­”

“Don’t talk about him. Don’t even say his name.” I started to fling the bottle like I had the book, but even as my hand itched to let it fly and the need to make him hurt was almost all consuming, I didn’t do it.

Somehow I had learned from the last time.

A girl waved her hand, gaining my attention. Shooting Henry a hateful look, I took her order. Of course he was still there when I finished the cocktail.