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Huh As long as Hudson remembered the owner of the Coach House could always be found behind his bar, serving up drinks (which was the reason you’d be there) and advice (whether you wanted it or not)
“He okay?”
The bartender took his tih his eyes never left Hudson “As good as you’d expect Noill you have?”
Hudson considered digging deeper but so told him he probably wouldn’t like what he’d find “Cold beer would be good”
“Draft or bottle?”
“Draft”
Less than aof Guinness and settled in to watch the gaood a way as any to pass the afternoon, and the fact that he’d rather watch it here than at the house said so was he didn’t want to dwell on No sense in going there just yet
He ell into his second Guinness when solance in the mirror behind the bar told him it was a male, early to mid thirties, an A’s ball cap pulled low over clipped dark hair The length of his arms told Hudson he was tall and the tattoos told him ex military His clothes were on the dirty side, as if he’d been working outdoors, but the watch on his wrist was a Rolex
The fact they were close in age told Hudson there was a good chance he knew the guy, but he paid him no mind At the et their asses kicked He wasn’t ready to head down ood long drink, eyes on the pitcher as he squared up at the mound
“How’s Sal doing?” The man spoke and Hudson’s hand froze mid-air
“Not good, Jake” Hulking bartender guy leaned forward, shaking his head
Hudson’s eyes widened He knew the voice right away Jake Edwards was a few years older than Hudson and while they hadn’t exactly been friends—Jake had been pretty tight with his own crew back then—they’d hung out a time or two It sure as hell explained the Rolex The Edwards family came from old ed asses were part of Crystal Lake’s elite
Hudson looked down at his beer, his face dark as he thought of family and the reason he’d come back here For a moment his vision blurred and he slammed his eyes shut, because just like that, it felt as if he
’d never left
“You leave here now boy, don’t expect a welcoood luck with that”