Flyers and random art decor take up almost every inch of space along the walls. Band posters, too, and LED signs currently devoid of any life. Over the bar, vintage style lightbulbs swing from chains, casting a sweep of soft, gold light over the rows and rows of bottles.

It’s a nice place. Divey, but in the best way. Homey.

“Sorry,” Mason mutters shakily. “Didn’t mean to—”

My forehead wrinkles as I turn to face him. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

He smiles tightly. “I don’t usually have to talk about this. Her,” he chokes out. “Everyone around here thinks they already know everything, so...”

Leaving the thought hanging, he drops his head.

“You never had to explain,” I finish for him softly. “You never had to actually say the words.”

He slowly lifts his gaze. “Yeah...” He cocks his head, pale blue eyes searching mine. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. How...”

I huff a humorless laugh and rub a hand through my hair, pushing back the thick, wavy strands. “Let’s just say I, uh, get that. Very well.”

He straightens.

Shrugging, I say, “It’s why I left Philly. Well, part of the reason. I—”

“You lost someone too?” he interrupts sharply, like it’s of critical importance.

I blow out a breath. “Yeah.” I hesitate before going on, figuring I should give him something. “Last January.”

His eyes sear into mine. “Girlfriend?”

Are you like me? I imagine he’s really asking. Seeking. Do you know my pain? Do you see me?

I clear my throat and look at Mason head-on. “Boyfriend, actually.”

I’ve gotta hand it to him. Other than the slightest widening of his eyes, you’d never know what I said caused a reaction.

I flash him a small smile. “Surprise.”

A frown pulls deeply at his face. “I’m sorry. For your loss. I know those words are empty, but it’s all I’ve got.”

Well, shit.

I force a swallow. “I know. I’m sorry too.”

He bites down on his lip, studying me thoughtfully. “What Way said before...it wasn’t anything personal. It’s just, it makes it really hard to...move forward when everyone’s all up in our business, thinking they know everything. Thinking they can fix it. Like we’re some...”

“Morbid carnival attraction?” I say dryly.

He exhales. “Exactly.”

“I get that. Not the whole...small town, hive mind thing, but...” I search his pained eyes. “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to feel like all your shit’s on display. Makes it really fucking hard to move on when no one else lets you forget it.”

He winces and looks down. “Yeah.”

Silence stretches out between us once more as old ghosts wrap around us, threatening to pull us under. Down, where no one could reach.