Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10

was ready to talk. She took my coat, brought me a beer (which she kept in the fridge just for me since she'd only drink expensive red wine), and then tsked at my feet as I peeled my socks off. Switching gears, she ushered me into the bathroom. After running some water and adding a heaping scoop of Epsom salts, she forced me to soak my feet. When I protested, she ignored my whining and fetched a bottle of wine. She'd make a great mother someday.
    "I'm moving out," I said. I sat on the edge of the tub, wiggling my toes in the warm water. From her perch on the closed toilet seat, Kenzie sipped her wine in silence.
    "Sam set me up with this great guy, but didn't tell me what he was doing. I kinda figured he'd bought me a rent boy." I glanced at her, my cheeks heating, but she passed no judgment, merely waited for the rest of the story. "It didn't end well. I'm moving out."
    When I met her gaze again, I could tell she was trying to piece together what I wasn't saying. I didn't want to get into the sordid details. Kenzie was the first person I came out to, but I could never tell my sister that Sam tied me up because he thought it excited me, and I certainly wouldn't admit to her that yes, it did excite me. A lot.
    "You're welcome here. You know that."
    "Thanks," I said. I did know, but I still wanted to hear it. I didn't want to impose on my awesome, loving sister without permission, though she'd never think of me as an inconvenience.
    "So what are you going to do about the guy?"
    I sighed. "I want to try to talk to him. Sam said he won't have anything to do with me, but I suspect Sam didn't try all that hard to explain either."
    "He doesn't take blame for anything." Yes, my sister knew Sam almost as well as I did.
    "I should go talk to him." I set my beer on the floor and lifted my feet.
    Kenzie passed me a towel and said, "No, you should shower and get some rest. Talk tomorrow when you're not frazzled."
    Smart girl, my sister.
    ****
    Once again, I hadn't thought through my plans. I drove down to the Boneyard, determined to talk to Wolfgang myself. I didn't exactly forget Sam worked there too, I just didn't think about what I'd do if I saw him. Unfortunately, Sam found me before I found Wolfgang.
    "I knew you were kidding," Sam said. He'd caught me shortly after I walked in the door. My eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dim lighting, and damn, the place was noisier than I remembered.
    "I'm not," I said. I cast my gaze around, seeking purple hair, and trying to give him a big hint that didn't involve the fist currently clenched at my side. "Where's Wolfgang?"
    Sam's voice grew gruff. "I don't want you bothering him. We're trying to run a business here."
    I finally looked at my former best friend. Yes, that was how I thought of him now. I woke up feeling the grief of what had been. It wasn't just Wolfgang, but all the pranks he never abandoned as we grew up. I needed to move on. "You're that convinced he won't forgive me?"
    "I can't lie to you, Jason. When I mentioned you, he ranted at me about my choice of friends for ten minutes."
    My shoulders slumped, and I dropped my gaze to the floor. Then I remembered how much of a self-serving jerk Sam could be; his explanation probably saved face, and so hadn’t admitted any guilt. Sam didn't feel guilt.
    I took a deep breath, lifted my head, and squared my shoulders. "I don't want to make a scene, but I do want to talk with him. If he gives me a brush off as you seem to think, I'll leave."
    "Look, I—"
    "No, Sam, I don't owe you anything right now. Back the fuck off."
    I met his hard stare in ounce for ounce of stubborn determination. I could hear the gears of his brain straining to find another solution, but I had no doubt he realized that if he convinced me to leave quietly now, I'd simply show up another day, and he might not be around to run interference next time.
    "Let's go in the back office," Sam said. "I'll call him in, but only after I'm sure you're not going to hit him."
    I was much more likely to hit Sam, but I kept that to myself. Instead, I muttered a "fuck you" and followed him. I didn't want to go to the office with Sam. He'd probably try to talk me out of talking to Wolfgang. After all, if he and I talked, it might come out that Sam fucked up. Sam also had to know there was no way I'd leave without taking my shot. Worth a try, I figured, but I still looked around for Wolfgang as we wove our way around patrons, tables, and chairs.
    The tavern was just as I