by J. H. Croix
“How do you know?” I hoped it wasn’t obvious I was eager as a puppy for info on Ty.
“Small town,” she chirped. “Trust me, I get it, having everyone all up in your business can be annoying, but it does sort of make you just deal with yourself.”
I took another swallow of my coffee. “I did tell Ty about, well, things.”
““Things” is a pretty broad statement,” May returned with air quotes. “What do you mean?”
“That I skidded off the rails and ended up in a psych hospital for a night. I thought he should know that right off the bat.”
May nodded slowly. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
May threw a hand up in the air as I took another bite of my scone. “How did he react?”
I finished chewing and shrugged. “Okay, I think. I mean he didn’t run for the hills.”
“Like I said, everybody’s got a story. If we were all judged on our worst days and our worst choices for the rest of our lives, it would suck,” May offered. “I almost got a DUI, and it’s just pure luck I didn’t.”
“Really?” Although May was open about being in recovery, I hadn’t heard that detail.
“See, everybody’s got a story. Stop being so hard on yourself. I think part of your problem is you were a hard-core overachiever. Maybe you should call yourself a recovering academic overachiever.”
I burst out laughing. She couldn’t know how on the nose she was. “Very true.”
Just then, a woman with blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with a sunny quality to her paused beside our table. “Hey,” she said in a cheerful voice.
May smiled easily. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Good. I slept through the night, that’s always awesome.”
May grinned and gestured across the table to me. “Audrey, this is my friend Isabella. She goes by Belle. She’s a new chef at Speakeasy.” Glancing to me, May added, “This is Audrey. She’s the one who probably made that scone you said was so good.”
Two pairs of eyes dropped to my now-empty plate which only had a few crumbs left on it. I smiled up at Audrey. “Your scones are delicious.”
Audrey smiled again. “Thanks. I’d like to take credit, but Roderick made those. Although, it is my recipe. It’s great to meet you. Welcome to town. I hope you enjoy working at Speakeasy. Phoebe has created a phenomenal menu.”
I nodded, feeling a twinge of that uncertainty that was starting to become familiar. “She has. I just hope I can keep up.”
Audrey nodded encouragingly. “I’m sure you can. It’ll be great. I hope we see you around here more for coffee, or scones, or plain old gossip.”
“I’ve already advised her that gossip’s hard to escape,” May added with a solemn nod.
She and Audrey seemed to find that hysterical and burst out laughing together. As May and I walked out together a few minutes later, she paused at the side of the parking area. “It’ll be okay.” She must’ve seen the questions swirling in my eyes. “Life, I mean. Just think of this as a reboot. The new and improved version of you.”
“I’ll try. Thanks for the coffee invite.”
“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” As I turned to walk away, May called, “Don’t forget to have fun!”
Right. Fun. The problem with fun was it used to be my specialty. May was accurate that I also used to be an academic overachiever. But somehow, before everything spiraled way out of control, that little bit of mania was like extra fuel in my life. I had enough energy to make straight A’s, work, and also have plenty of fun. I didn’t even drink that much. It’s just that a little alcohol with a dash of mania was all kinds of wild at a party.
It had been over a year since that fated weekend. I hadn’t even noticed at that point that I’d hardly slept in days and wasn’t even feeling tired.
Apparently, I said some interesting things to the police. My fun, effervescent buzz from low mania, or hypomania as my psychiatrist and therapist described it, had mushroomed into something much more escalated.
I took a deep breath as I walked down the street. I had a chunk of time before I needed to go into work for the afternoon. Maybe it was time to run a few errands. I liked that the place I was staying was so close to work I didn’t need to drive, but I did need to drive to get out to that small strip mall where the grocery store and so on were.
I paused on the sidewalk in front of the entrance to the parking lot for Speakeasy because a truck was turning in. I wasn’t paying attention and only looked up when I realized the vehicle had stopped. Ty rolled down the window, his easy grin promptly sending my belly into a series of flips.
“Morning,” he said, a perfectly normal greeting.
My body reacted as if the presence of Ty was all kinds of amazing. Just the sound of his voice sent a prickle of awareness down my spine. His smoky gaze met mine and a little sizzle zapped through the air between us as I looked at him. Gah! Why did he have to be so freaking hot? His hair was ruffled, and he had a subtle shadow of stubble on his chin.
I managed to smile, while my hormones sat up and cheered at the sight of him. “Morning,” I replied. My voice came out all breathy, which was ridiculous.
“Are you working later today?”
I nodded. “This afternoon.”
“All right, then. I’ll see you later.”
I watched his truck roll into the parking lot and willed my pulse to slow the fuck down. I needed to get a grip on my reaction to Ty. Surely, it was because I’d been practically living like a nun lately. We had some seriously good nights back in college, but this was too much, way too much. I needed to work with the man, not wipe the drool off my chin while I was working.
6
Ty
“You need to just tell him to fuck off,” my sister said.
I laughed into the phone. “Seriously, Jess. You know I’m not gonna tell him that.”
“I don’t see why not,” she countered. “You have nothing to lose.”
“I’ll take it under advisement. Now, how are you?”
“Good. It is pure heaven to have my own apartment.”
I smiled, resting my shoulder against the wall inside the storage area at work. I’d arrived a little early, so I had time to take a call. “I bet. I’m really happy for you. Is everything all set? Because if you need anything, anything at all, you know I’ll come help out.”
Although I couldn’t see her, I could imagine my sister’s face, her nose wrinkling and her mouth twisting to the side as she cast me her version of a glare. “Everything is all set. It’s a first-floor apartment. The bathroom is like a dream come true. You honestly don’t need to do anything.”
“Good. I mean it when I say I’ll help, but I’m stoked you don’t need it. You heard from Mom?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Uh, no.”
“Dude, Mom helped me move in, she called an hour after she left, and she’s called every day since. It’s almost the same as still living at home.”
I chuckled. “I promise I won’t call you every day, and I bet she’ll adjust and back off.”
Jess sighed into the phone. “I know she will. I just wish she would finally freaking leave Dad. Hell, if she left him and came to live with me, I would deal with it.”
My sister had been badly burned in a car accident when she was a little girl. She’d been through more surgeries than I could count to deal with infections and complications afterwards and walked with a brace on her knee for support sometimes. She was twenty-two years old now and more than excited about her freedom. My mom had pretty much dedicated her life to my sister’s health in the early years during her recovery.
As for our father, he was just an asshole. He mostly ignored my sister. With me, he wanted me to go into the family business and had been trying to badger me into it ever since my hopes for a pro hockey career fell through. What he didn’t get was I hadn’t wanted to go into pro hockey for the money, but because I loved playing. Sure, the money would
have been nice, but I was under no illusions that money led to happiness. All I had to do was look at him to know that.
“Maybe she will, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t,” I said into the phone.
Jess was pretty direct about our father. She thought he was a dick and had told him so more than once. He’d had a years’ long affair with another woman, and it was still ongoing. I didn’t understand my mother’s reasons for staying in the marriage, but stay she did. With Jess finally moving out, maybe our mom would have something to focus on other than her.
Jess’s next sigh came through the phone line, loud and forceful. It was more than a sigh, rather like a horse snorting and pawing the ground. “I know she probably won’t leave. She stayed with him all these years. He hardly speaks to me since I tell him exactly what I think, so I think it would be to your benefit to do the same.”
I chuckled. “I’ll think about it, Jess. When are you going to come to Speakeasy for dinner?”
“When I have time,” my sister replied tartly.
“Fine. I’ll come see you soon.”
“Well, I’m busy, so make sure you plan ahead.”
I heard my name and glanced over my shoulder through the open doorway to see Phoebe waving at me from the entrance to the kitchen. “Gotta go, sis. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Can you grab a keg of Goldenpour?” Phoebe called as soon as I slipped my phone in my pocket. “Lily says she needs one up front.”
“You got it. I’ll run to the restroom and get it on my way back.” Phoebe flashed a thumbs up symbol and hurried away.
Phoebe was a force to be reckoned with. I found it amusing that she was here in this tiny town in Vermont. She was a bigwig chef from New York City and had gone viral as a meme after her boyfriend dumped her at a fancy restaurant and someone live tweeted the entire conversation, complete with photos.
While she wasn’t my boss, per se, we coordinated all the time. I managed the staff for the bar and elsewhere, while she was the executive chef for the gastropub and had pulled off a kickass grand opening this past summer.
I hurried into the bathroom, smiling to myself as I thought about my sister. Although life hadn’t dealt her a fair hand with her accident, she made up for it in attitude. She was a fighter and sassy and spirited. I loved her to pieces, even though what happened to her mostly took over our family, at least as far as our mom was concerned. I was pretty much left to my own devices while all of her attention went to Jess. I understood it, totally, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. But the offshoot was I wasn’t all that tight with my mom, and Jess and I were united in annoyance with our father. He was beyond frustrated with my career choice, but the idea of going to work for him at his investment company felt like smothering myself in a cold wet blanket. I didn’t want to live in the city, I hated the corporate world, and I particularly disliked him.
Bartending had been a great side gig in college. Although my knee injury rolled the dice away from a pro career in hockey, I’d fallen in love with Vermont during my time here in college. When I was passing through town and stopped at The Gin Mill for drinks with a friend and heard about Speakeasy, I had immediately put in for the general manager position. I’d been here since they opened and was finding it to be a great fit for me.
Between slinging drinks, I enjoyed the management aspect because I liked making things run smoothly, and I loved the place and the people. If there was one thing I’d sought in life ever since I left my parents’ cold household, with the exception of my sister’s bright and sassy light, it was down-to-earth, authentic people. This small town and Speakeasy were filled with them.
A moment later, I was hustling across the restaurant, having stopped to snag the requested keg of Goldenpour. I almost collided with Belle. She was tying an apron around her waist and glanced up as she walked out of the staff break room. Her head whipped up and the soles of her shoes squeaked on the floor when she came to a quick stop. “Sorry,” she chirped.
“No worries,” I replied. “After you.” I gestured with my free hand for her to cross into the kitchen in front of me.
For a split second, her gaze stayed locked on mine. A charge lit the air around us. Her lashes swung down and her cheeks went a little pink before she hurried ahead of me. For a few seconds, my feet were stuck in place, but with a mental shake I kept moving and spun into a busy afternoon and evening shift.
I was in the middle of mixing drinks for a table that had just come in when I looked up to find May Shipley smiling at me. “Hey there, Ty.”
“How’s it going, May?” I finished off one drink, adding a garnish to the edge of the glass and moving onto the next drink.
“It’s good. Is Alec around? Also, can I get some water?”
“I saw him a bit ago in the brewing room,” I replied when I set the last drink on the tray, just as one of the waitresses stopped by the side of the bar to pick it up. “Thank you!” she called.
“It’s my job,” I returned with a quick grin before bringing my attention back to May. “Let me get you that water.” I held a finger up.
I filled a glass of water for her. “Need more ice?” I asked, holding the glass up.
“No thanks,” she said as I handed it over. She took a swallow before slipping her phone out of her pocket. “I’m going to text Alec because he’s not in the brewing room now.”
I chuckled. “That man is always on the move.”
Matteo showed up to help cover the bar for the evening, immediately taking orders from some customers that had just arrived. I paused to check in with May. “Hear from Alec?”
“He ran to the store. I’m waiting here because he’ll be back in a few.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners with her smile as she rested her elbows on the bar and took another swallow of water.
Another customer came by and I took their order, taking a few more before I had another free moment. May took me off guard as I was prepping a drink when she commented, “So, I hear you and Belle are old friends.”
If I’d thought I could play it cool, I collided with the sly gleam in her eyes when I looked up too quickly. I finished filling a pint glass and handed it over to the woman who was smiling a little too coquettishly. “Enjoy,” I said, keeping my return smile absolutely not flirtatious.
When I looked back toward May, she offered, “I really like Belle.”
“Belle’s great,” I replied, feeling like I was walking a tightrope in this conversation. It was obviously true that I knew Belle. I wouldn’t go so far as to call us old friends. We’d had several seriously hot hook-ups that I’d never been able to forget. In fact, if I was being honest with myself, I had to admit I would’ve wanted more than a hook-up with Belle back then. I’d been around the block enough to know the chemistry that flared between us didn’t come along often.
But I wasn’t about to get into that with May. I also didn’t know what else May knew about Belle. I didn’t know if I was supposed to keep what I knew a secret, not just our hookup status, but everything Belle had laid bare for me the other night.
May’s gaze felt a little more perceptive than I preferred. “Belle is great.”
At that moment, Matteo called over, “Gotta sec to run in the back and get some more of the Barclay Stout for me?” His interruption was handy at the moment.
“Of course,” I called. Glancing back to May, I added, “Nice chatting with you, but I need to take care of this.”
“Always. Be good to Belle,” May replied.
I pondered that comment as I hustled to the back and brought more beer to the bar. One of the things I loved about Speakeasy was it was always busy. I never minded hard work, and hated watching the clock when I was working. Blessedly, that was never the case here.
Despite being busy, my mind rubbed the stones of what May might have been hinting at about Belle. It was impossible to nudge Belle out of my thoughts. Not when I passed by her every time I hurried through the kitchen. As the night finally slowed
for the restaurant, and the bar transitioned to straight bar service without the extra supply of drinks for the restaurant customers, I headed to the back to take care of checking on stock and making sure we had everything we needed for our next order for the distributors.
I came across Belle chewing on the end of a pencil where she stood at a counter that ran along a wall in the kitchen. My feet slowed, and I found myself stopping beside her before I even considered what I was doing. When her luminous brown eyes met mine, my heart kicked against my ribs. The air around us suddenly felt electrified. Her hair was pulled up in a bun and several locks had escaped. I wanted to brush them off her cheeks and kiss her.
A memory flashed in my thoughts—the first night I’d seen her. It was at some party in college. I was a senior, and she was a freshman. She’d glowed like a bright star. She’d been corralled into singing karaoke and had belted out a version of an Aretha Franklin song. I remembered being nearby when she stepped off the small makeshift stage. When she stumbled, I’d caught her by the shoulders to steady her.
Next thing I knew, we were kissing. It blurred from that into one fiery night. After that, we hooked up a few more times, each one as memorable as the first. But I was busy playing hockey and then dealing with an injury in my senior year. She was busy being an honors student, career driven and focused, but also the life of every party wherever I saw her. I gathered she didn’t party a lot, but when she did, she threw herself into it with as much abandon as when she was tangled up with me between the sheets.
“How’s it going?” I asked, literally dragging my thoughts out of those memories.
“Good. Just making a few notes for recipes for specials.”
We stared at each other for a moment, and I was snapped out of it when someone came rushing by. The night wound down. As I was leaving, I headed to that bench by the river. I liked to take a few minutes there. The quiet was a contrast to the hum of my work nights. I didn’t let myself consciously think about it until I saw her silhouette, but I’d been wondering if Belle would be there again.