And he’d keep his fingers crossed that Pop never found out. 7
The twenty-ninth finally arrived, not that Noah was checking off the days on his calendar.
Things were slower than usual for a Tuesday night, but he didn’t mind. He’d be closing in about twenty minutes, and then he’d get things ready for Gabriel’s arrival.
Only a couple of his regulars were still in the tavern, playing air hockey and sipping their beers, so he didn’t even bother announcing last call.
Abruptly the door burst open, and a young man who didn’t look older than twenty-one stormed in. He gazed around the room, then spotted Noah behind the bar.
“It’s almost closing, dude, and if you want a drink, you’d better have a valid ID on you.”
“You’re Noah Poynter?” He glared at him
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“You can leave my brother’s boyfriend the fuck alone.”
“Excuse me?”