Free Desolate by A.M. Guilliams Page A

that matter. But, Wes, she doesn’t look like the type who wants to have a conversation. She’s been here all of thirty minutes and she barely spoke two sentences to me when she arrived. If you’re thinking what I think you are, I’d second guess that thought. Steer clear of that one. She looks like nothing but trouble,” he warned. Well, I’d heed his warning, but it wasn’t going to stop me from at least talking to her.
    “I’ll think about it, Hank. Get me another beer would you? One for me and whatever she’s drinking.” I asked as I took the last sip from my bottle. Tonight was definitely needed. I’d worked nonstop since I arrived back in town getting resituated and making a routine for Grace, not stopping much to think along the way. Tonight I wanted to wind down and just breathe. Tomorrow, well it wasn’t here yet, so I wasn’t going to think much about it.
    Hank set down the beers, and I slid the ten-dollar bill across to him. I slapped my hand down on the bar as I stood. I was getting this over with. It wasn’t that hard. All I had to do was go over there and say hello. How hard could that be?
    I walked around the bar and in the direction of her table. She had her head down and focused on the glass as her finger ran around the rim. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here, and I selfishly wanted to change that. I hadn’t even met her or spoken to her yet, and I wanted to take that deep, morbid look off of her face and make her laugh.
    “Hi. I’m Weston. You look vaguely familiar. You from around here?” I asked. God, you idiot. Can you say worst pickup fucking line ever?
    She glanced up with a shocked look on her face. This could go one of two ways. She could either kick me to the curb or she would talk. I had hoped for the latter.
    “Nope. You look familiar, too, but I doubt you’ve seen me around before,” she vaguely responded as she looked back down at her glass and ran her fingertip around the rim.
    “And what’s a beautiful woman like you coming in here all by yourself?” I continued.
    “Are you saying women shouldn’t come to bars by themselves?” she challenged. A challenge I could work with.
    “Not at all. I just don’t normally see women coming here alone. Don’t y’all have some rule against that?”
    “I wouldn’t know,” she whispered and took a long swig from her glass, finishing it off. Perfect.
    “Here ya go. Looks like you could use another,” I replied as I slid the glass over toward her.
    She looked down at the glass and back up at me, her gaze ending back on the glass.
    “It’s not going to bite you, ya know?” I stated with a laugh.
    “I’m not interested,” she stated flatly and stood from her seat, the assumption written clearly all over her face. She thought I was trying to pick her up, and she wasn’t having it.
    “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not like that at all. You just looked lonely sitting over here, and your glass looked near empty. I was just trying to be kind and have a friendly conversation,” I stated.
    “I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all, but I’m only having one drink tonight. Since that’s done, I’ll be going,” she firmly reiterated. Something had clearly dampened her mood. I noticed the rings on her left hand as she readjusted her jacket. What a dumb ass, Weston? I inwardly scolded myself.
    “Your husband must be missing you at home tonight?” I questioned as I nodded my head towards her hand.
    She looked down with a pained look on her face and said nothing. There were tears in her eyes when she looked back up at me. Without saying another word, she stalked past me and left the bar. Leaving me wondering how the hell that had turned from an okay conversation to her leaving almost in tears. I’ve never purposefully made a woman cry before, and it didn’t settle well with me that she would probably be crying as she got in her vehicle.
    “Looks like you struck out with that one,” Hank laughed as he