CLAIRE DAVON

Excerpt

The Storybook Pub was not the same place it had been a week ago.

Then it was his neighborhood hangout with shelves of alcohol and a pool table in the corner. He’d expected that familiar feel when he walked in. Needed it. After what had happened with Nyla, he craved it. He stared at the place, trying to process what he saw.

He’d come in for a beer but that might be impossible. The shelves behind the bar were still there but the pool table was gone, replaced by some blinking video thing. The tables were all new—except they didn’t look that way. They were settled into their spots like they’d been there for years, the marks under the legs old.

They hadn’t existed last week. None of this had. Kole couldn’t have remodeled this fast. Even if he had, there would have been the telltale remainder of a renovation. Lincoln couldn’t smell any sawdust and there hadn’t been any permits on the door. This couldn’t have been accomplished in seven days.

This wasn’t what he needed right now. Not when his heart had been ripped into a million pieces.

The breakup had been a long time coming. They had incompatible goals and different visions for the future. Dumping her now was doing them both a favor. He couldn’t take back what he’d said—words he had used on purpose. He’d needed to be cruel to make it stick.

At closing time on a Tuesday, he’d assumed the place would be empty. When he was unable to sleep, playing the events over and over again in his mind, he got up and went out. The Storybook Pub was always a good place to soothe his soul. Kole, the proprietor and bartender, had a knack for listening. Lincoln wasn’t even sure Kole was in this odd place.

The man sitting at the bar had a lost, desolate appearance. To make it worse, the stool he occupied like an old friend was Lincoln’s favorite. It had a view of the door while still being far enough inside that he didn’t get blasted by the weather every time it opened. But this dissipated, washed-out dude who was either sixty or fifty with some hard years on him, had taken over.

He couldn’t be a regular. Lincoln had never seen him before. But he looked comfortable in that spot, like the stool had his butt indentation.

Kole came out from the back and said something to the man. He grunted and raised his glass for a refill. Then Kole’s gaze went to Lincoln and his smile froze. He darted a quick glance at the old man. He opened his mouth to say something before freezing in place, his expression going blank. An aura hovered around Kole, like fireflies dancing. Lincoln blinked, and the weird illusion vanished.

Kole had been friendly in the past but the pub wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Lincoln moved to go to him but Kole held up a hand and shook his head. Lincoln’s fraying temper rose. The pain of the last few days craved an outlet. If not a beer then something more physical might work too.

He started to the front again.

“Lincoln, no.”