Chapter 27: Thank You
The bar had grown quiet by the time Bella finally glanced up at the wall clock. The neon hands glowed against the dim backdrop, reminding her how late it had become.
The noise that had filled the place hours ago had dwindled to a faint murmur, a few scattered conversations drifting across the near-empty room.
Bella exhaled slowly and slid her glass aside. "I should get going," she said softly. "I haven’t really had anything to eat tonight. I have to go now if I still want to eat."
Raymond’s head lifted at once, his gray eyes sharpening as if her words had jolted him out of his haze. "Wait—you mean you haven’t had dinner because of me? Because I called you out? Oh my God. I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t——."
She raised a brow, cutting of his blablah. Then she gave a faint shrug, intending to brush it off so he doesn’t feel bad. "It’s fine. Really."
But he leaned forward suddenly, the raw distress of earlier softening into something far more fragile. "No, Bella. It’s not fine. I’m sorry." The apology tumbled out earnest, unpolished. "You came here to listen to me—hell, you sat here while I just talked and talked while you——I’m really sorry for my thoughtlessness."
His words caught her off guard. For a man who’d spent the last hour spilling his frustrations, bitterness, and grief, the sudden shift to care disarmed her. She opened her mouth, then closed it, shaking her head gently.
"You don’t have to apologize for that," she said. "You didn’t know. Besides, I could’ve said no but instead, I chose to be here."
He pressed a hand against the back of his neck, guilt shadowing his features. "At least let me make it up to you. There’s a diner down the street—nothing fancy, but I can buy you dinner. Real food. Something better than watered-down whiskey." His mouth quirked, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes.
Bella felt the tug of sincerity in his tone, but she forced herself to stay firm. "No, Raymond. You really don’t need to."
He blinked, surprised at her refusal, then studied her as though trying to decipher the steel in her voice. Bella smoothed her bag strap across her shoulder, adding lightly, "Go home. Rest. You’ve had a long day. I’ll be fine. You still have to show up at work tomorrow."
For a long moment, he seemed ready to push again. But then his shoulders slumped, and he nodded, swallowing the insistence that hovered on his lips. She was right. Just the thought of returning to work was already making him sick but he wasn’t going to think about it—at least not yet.
"Alright," he said finally, voice low.
They slid out of the booth together and stepped outside.
The night air was crisp, almost cleansing after the smoky bar, carrying the faint tang of damp stone and rustling leaves. The streetlights bathed the sidewalk in broken gold, and the soft buzz of the city lingered like an echo in the background.
Raymond tucked his hands deep into his coat pockets, his tall frame shadowed against the glow. His posture was tight, but it wasn’t just the cold. Something heavier weighed down on him, an exhaustion Bella could feel radiating between their unspoken words.
"I’ll walk you to your car," he said after a beat, his voice softer than before.
She hesitated, torn between practicality and compassion. Part of her wanted to insist she didn’t need an escort. But one glance at him—his eyes dulled with weariness, his features strained with more than alcohol—was enough to silence the protest forming in her chest.
"Alright," she murmured.
Their footsteps tapped against the pavement, an almost rhythmic sound cutting through the quiet. Neither spoke for a while. Bella could sense him wrestling with something inside, the silence thick with all he hadn’t yet said.
It was Raymond who finally broke it. "Thank you," he said, his voice rough, scraped raw.
Bella looked at him briefly, puzzled. "For what?"
"For coming and for listening," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the ground. "For not looking at me the way people usually do when they realize I’m Jake’s brother." His lips twisted in a grimace. "Most see me as nothing more than the Stones’ reckless second son. That’s all I’ll ever be to them."
Bella’s chest tightened at the bitterness laced in his words. She slowed her steps and studied him, seeing not the charming, polished man he often paraded before others, but a shadowed version stripped bare of pretense.
"I don’t see you that way," she said quietly.
He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. His gray eyes caught hers in the glow of the streetlamp, stark with disbelief. "You don’t?"
She shook her head, unwavering. "No. I see a man who’s been hurt, yes. But also someone capable of more than he believes. Don’t let your father’s disappointment define you, Raymond. You’re more than that."
"I think you’re just saying all that beiyou don’t exactly know me. You’re not from here—maybe if you were you would’ve...."
"I still wouldn’t have seen you that way after getting to know how caring and thoughtful you are. I remember the empathy I saw in your eyes when you first heard I would be working for Jake. People don’t often show that to people they just met," Bella said, looking into his eyes.
The words seemed to lodge in his chest, breaking through the armor he’d built over years of failure and rejection and recklessness. His face softened, vulnerability flickering across it, a boyish uncertainty slipping through the cracks.
"Bella..." His voice trembled on her name. He hesitated, as though the next words perched precariously on the edge of his tongue. For a moment, the space between them thrummed with a charge neither dared acknowledge.
Should he just tell her he liked her and wanted to start taking charge of his life with her by his side? How would she take it? Would she reject him or accept him?
She held her breath, watching him before turning away when she felt uncomfortable with the way his eyes were searching her forest green eyes.
And just like that, the moment faltered, just as quickly as it came.
Raymond’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, forcing the fragile confession back down. He shook his head, masking it with a faint, broken smile.
"Never mind," he muttered, his tone strained but polite.
Bella’s heart twisted. She sensed what he hadn’t said, the words heavy in the air between them, but she let them hang unspoken.
They reached her car, and she slipped the keys from her bag. "This is it," she said simply.
Raymond lingered on the curb, his hands tight in his pockets, his gaze shadowed with something he couldn’t quite voice. She slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, her chest still taut with the weight of the evening.
"Goodnight, Raymond," she said softly through the window.
His lips curved faintly, though the smile didn’t touch his eyes. "Goodnight, Isabella."