Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series

by Pogue, Lindsey

  The front door opens again. Aunt Alison and Cal walk in, she looks like an angel next to a tatted-up biker.

  She untwines her arm from his and walks over to give me a hug. “I’m so proud of you, honey,” she says. “I hope we’re not late. This place looks amazing.”

  “No, you’re right on time. And thanks. I couldn’t have done it without the crew.” I glance over at Bethany, admiring how hard she’s working behind the counter, especially when I told her she didn’t have to.

  “Babe.”

  She looks at me, blinking.

  “Come here and say hi.” She’s in hiding. Not because she doesn’t know everyone and not because she doesn’t get along with them, but because she wants to give me space to be with my friends and family. “You’re a part of this too,” I remind her.

  With a sheepish smile and a nudge from Sam, Bethany sets the limes she’s holding onto the counter, wipes off her hands, and finally steps out from behind the bar to join me.

  The door flings open and Bobby comes in, arms out. “Let the festivities begin!” he shouts. Cal glares at him as he walks over and claps me on the shoulder. Bobby grins and beelines for Anna Marie without saying another word.

  Shaking his head, Cal looks at me. “Nicholas . . .” He extends his hand, his eyes shift around the room. He’s a big guy, imposing even, if I didn’t know he was such a softy on the inside. “I’m proud of you, kid.”

  “Thanks, Cal.”

  Bethany stops beside me and twines her fingers in mine. “I’m not sure if you’ve met Bethany yet, but—”

  “Mac’s filled me in, I think,” he says and dips his head in hello. “Nice to meet you, Bethany. You’ve got yourself a good man right here,” he says. “Even if he does have questionable habits.” He glares at me, and I have to laugh.

  “Dad,” Mac says, smacking his shoulder. “Nick’s a grown-ass man, he can do whatever he wants. Plus, he quit smoking months ago. Leave him alone.”

  “Hmm.” He mutters something and Aunt Alison smiles. “Come on, Cal, I’ll get you a drink.”

  “Try the Russell’s Reserve,” I tell him, knowing he’s a bourbon man. “It’s my favorite.”

  “Oh, God,” Mac grumbles. “Here we go.”

  I flash Mac a shit-eating grin. “I’m gonna get your dad faded tonight,” I mouth.

  She smacks my shoulder this time. “You better not.”

  Laughing, I glance around the room, taking it all in as my friends chat amongst themselves and order drinks at the bar. Trent and Anna look like they know what they’re doing, which makes me breathe a little easier, and I let out a content sigh. The doors haven’t even opened yet to what I hope will be the masses, and I take the silent moment to bask in the glory of it all.

  I’m shaking, I realize. Standing here, in my own bar is the most surreal experience I’ve ever had. It’s exhilarating and exhausting, and part of me can’t believe Shortstop is an actual place.

  “Oh, look at all the people!” my mom exclaims as she comes out of the bathroom. Her makeup is done and her clothes are changed after a day of helping us set up and prepare. “I was only gone for a blink and now look. How exciting!”

  “Ma, you were hogging the bathroom for like, an hour. You could’ve gotten ready in the office. Or gone home to change.”

  She waves me away. “Hush. I’m finished now.” She leans in to kiss Bethany’s cheek. “I’m so proud of you two. Nick, your father’s on his way. Oh—and before I forget, family dinner’s at your father’s house next week. I’m having my carpets redone.”

  “Okay. Fine. Remind me later, would you?” She nods and Aunt Alison calls her over to the bar.

  Bethany rests her hand on my shoulder. “Are you happy?” she asks quietly.

  I admire the smiling faces that fill the room and the laughter above the low music of the jukebox. “Yes. I am.”

  She looks up at me, her gray eyes smiling. “Good.”

  I kiss her forehead, appreciating a moment together before things get even more chaotic.

  “So,” Reilly says with a grin. He walks up beside Bethany and I, a beer in his hand. “How does it feel, big shot?”

  All I can do is shake my head in awe. “Eight months ago, it was all a dream, not even a goal. Now I have a bar.” I think about how much my life has changed this past year—how much all of our lives have changed. Sam and Reilly are finally together. Mac has Colton and Casey. And me, I have the only woman I’ve ever really wanted. “We’ve all had a crazy couple of years, haven’t we?” I squeeze Bethany’s hand in mine.

  “Yeah,” Reilly says. “You could say that. It’s like we’re adults or something.”

  “I know, dude. I have a bar,” I repeat.

  Reilly chuckles and tips his beer. “Life is good.”

  I pull Bethany closer. “Yes, it is.”

  THE END

  Can’t get enough of the Saratoga Fall crew?

  For behind-the-book exclusive content, including storyboards, fun facts, short stories, and more, sign up for my monthly newsletter: www.lindseypogue.com/newsletter

  Author’s Note

  Well, you made it through the Saratoga Falls series. While I’m not writing off the possibility of another book in the future, I hope Nick and Bethany’s story was a satisfying conclusion to Nick, Mac, and Sam’s shenanigans. It feels right to take a break here—with the crew’s stories nicely wrapped up, leaving other Saratoga Falls characters’ lives ripe for more curveballs and adventures (cough—Anna Marie and Bobby).

  All in all, this book was a surprising story for me to write in many ways. First, I thought it would be difficult to do Nick’s character justice, but it ended up feeling natural and being really fun in the end. Since the beginning, Bethany’s character has been one I’ve wanted to shed light on and develop deeper, making her more of a gray, misunderstood character than the typical mean girl trope. I even put a little bit more of myself into her than I’d planned, specifically, my struggle with dyslexia. Each crossed out word in her journal entries were words I mangled while writing them, so I left them that way. And, as you can probably tell, I like to tackle some of the darker, less spoken about parts of real life, which I was able to do in this story as well. Autism, in particular, was something I wanted to learn more about. In fact, I want to thank Tracey Ward for taking the time to ensure Jesse’s character was true to that of a child his age on the spectrum, having raised her son who is also Autistic.

  I also want to thank the real-life Nick, Anna Marie, and my crew for being so excited about these books and giving me so much material to build such fun-loving characters from. Nick, maybe someday we’ll finally actually have a Lick’s, and Anna, you can be our bubbles girl While I doubt Nick will ever read the books he stars in, I know the girls will share it with him. So, Nick, know this: you’ve inspired a character that readers love, and one that will forever be with me.

  Most of all, I want to thank you, reader, for buying my books, for caring enough to read them. Take it from someone who got red marks on all her English papers: you’ve made my dreams come true. I hope you enjoy my other series as much as I hope you enjoyed this one.

  As always, happy reading adventures!

  Linds - xoxo

  P.S. If you have time, I’d be grateful if you would leave an honest review on Goodreads and/or your preferred retailer.

  Author Introduction

  As you are probably well aware, these characters have and will always be very near and dear to my heart. I have lived and breathed them for years, even before I sat down to take this “writing thing” seriously.

  After completing Nick’s story and bumbling around with which backstories I should show on page and which ones I should withhold, I went with a third option altogether. I present to you, dear reader, the Memory Book. I’ve included the most fun and important stories that I hope will be a happy farewell (at least for now).

  So, there you have it. I’ve hinted at some of these reflections throughout the three books, like
the fateful day Sam, Mac, Nick, and Reilly met and the summer that changed everything.

  I hope you enjoy these fun little tidbits as much as I loved writing them.

  AUTUMN

  One

  The Playground

  Mac

  Fourteen Years Ago

  There comes a time in every little girl’s life when she has to ask herself a very important question: do I run or do I fight? While fighting might never be ideal, running was never an option when your dad was one of the town’s biggest hard-asses, your oldest brother one of its known troublemakers, and you had a family reputation to uphold. Well, admittedly, I didn’t think much about that when I was in third grade, but I chose to show my fangs all the same—I chose to fight, or at least threaten it.

  I might’ve been young on that cool October afternoon, but I’ve always been bold. When some kid threw a piece of lunch meat at the small, blonde girl sitting at the end of my table, I had something to say about it. She’d been timid since first grade, and I saw loneliness in her eyes that reminded me of myself sometimes, even if I refused to show it. So, when her brown eyes grew the widest I’d ever seen, and her cheeks reddened, bright as a crossing guard sign, I knew it was only a matter of seconds before she broke down in front of everyone in the cafeteria, and I couldn’t allow that. Not when I could do something to help her.

  Call it self-preservation, having grown up with a bully for an older brother, but fighting back was in my blood, and I couldn’t allow the blonde girl who was always on the outskirts, always quiet, to feel alone against that freckle-faced ass-hat who was harassing her. So, I stood up and cursed the eight-year-old twerp.

  “Ricky Icky, you’re such a jerk!” I shouted. The rickety metal table shook when I jolted to my feet.

  Ricky was one of those spoiled kids whose mom always packed him a meat and cheese sandwich, no crust, along with a bag of chips, sliced fruit—not the fruit cup kind—and a juice box. Every. Single. Day.

  I tried not to hold it against him, even though I’d been making my own lunch for months. It always consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, string cheese, and a soda pop. The same thing every single day, crust and all. “What the hell’s your problem, anyway? Are you such a spoiled mama’s boy you don’t know how to play nice with others?”

  The blonde girl stared at me in amazement, her cheeks red.

  I scowled at Ricky, channeling my older brother’s meanness and dirty looks so that Ricky would know how serious I was. “If you ever throw anything at—” I looked at the blonde girl. “What’s your name again? Sarah?”

  “S”—she cleared her throat—“Samantha.”

  I looked back at Ricky. “If you ever do anything to Sam again, I’ll punch you so hard your nose’ll bleed.”

  “You can’t hurt me,” he bit back.

  I leaned forward. “You wanna bet? I have an older brother, what do you got? A mommy who still wipes your butt for you? Oooh, I’m so scared,” I deadpan. It was a safe threat because Ricky lived on my street, so I knew he didn’t have any siblings. Not to mention, I wasn’t the only one who thought my brother was a jerk. David was a big guy, already in middle school, and he had a lot of friends who wore dark, scary clothing with chains and spikes and had crazy hair. Even I was scared of most of them.

  “Shut up,” Ricky grumbled, but I knew he wouldn’t pick on Sam again. He mumbled something else as he collected his lunch box and jacket, and his scrawny little friend followed him out of the cafeteria.

  The rest of the table went back to eating their fruit snacks and talking about their Halloween plans, but I looked at Sam, then at a piece of what looked like bologna laying on the table in front of her. “Next time he does that, throw it back in his face,” I told her. “That’s what I’d do.”

  Sam’s brow crinkled before she nodded. I doubted she’d do it, though, even if it would make him think twice about throwing anything at her again. She might’ve squeaked out a thank you, but I was too busy being grateful myself—grateful that my impulsiveness didn’t backfire horribly. The last thing I wanted to have to do was ask David to beat up an eight-year-old. He would’ve laughed in my face.

  I zipped up my sweatshirt and picked up my sandwich. The bread was stale. Great.

  Sam didn’t say anything else, but I felt her eyes on me as I finished eating my lunch in silence. I’m not sure when I stopped hanging out with Claire and Anna Marie, exactly, but I only missed them sometimes. Like when strange girls were watching me and there was no one to talk to, to distract me.

  “You’re staring,” I said without looking at Sam.

  “Sorry,” she muttered and stared down at her lunch.

  I glanced over at the table next to mine, at Claire and Anna Marie talking with the new girl, Bethany. We used to be inseparable, at least until my mom ruined everything.

  At first, my friends looked at me with sympathy when they found out what happened, which I didn’t like. Eventually, they stopped understanding me at all, said that I had changed, which was fine. I wasn’t even sure I liked them anymore anyway, and we drifted apart.

  Instead of thinking about it, I savored my string cheese one thready piece at a time.

  When I finally finished, I tossed my paper bag and trash into the garbage can and headed out toward the playground. In my backpack, I’d brought one of the magazines from the shop to read, which would keep me busy until the bell rang and we went back to class.

  There was a pitter-patter behind me in the breezeway, but I pretended not to notice. Sam didn’t say anything either as she followed me toward the playground. Her silence wasn’t surprising, but she’d never followed me around before. When I reached the blacktop, I turned around, confused. She wrapped her arms around herself, but I stood there, waiting impatiently for her to say something.

  Her cheeks were still a little red, and after a few heartbeats, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well?” Resting my hand on my hip, I studied her jeans and boots. I’d never seen someone wear muddy boots to school before.

  Sam swallowed. “I just wanted to say thanks,” she finally said.

  I shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Ricky’s like that with everyone. He’s an asshole.”

  Her eyes widened at my cursing. “Not with you.”

  “Ha. He stole my bike last summer.”

  “He did?”

  “Yep. He’ll never do it again, but like I told you, he’s an asshole.”

  Sam smiled a little for the first time, and her brown eyes crinkled in the corners. She didn’t say anything else though. Instead, she looked down at her feet and picked at the crack in the walkway with her toe.

  “Why are your boots so dirty?” I asked. “Did you walk to school in the mud or something?”

  Sam stared at her feet, then looked at me with a crumpled brow. “It’s from the ranch,” she said, so matter of fact. I helped my dad at the garage sometimes, but I didn’t wear greasy clothes to school. I shrugged and let it go.

  “So.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why don’t you, you know, talk and stuff?” I looked at her skeptically. “You might make a few friends if you did.”

  “You don’t have any friends.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  Sam’s expression wilted, and she fidgeted with the hem of her pleated shirt, contemplating something before she finally managed to say, “What’s the point?”

  “What do you mean, ‘what’s the point’? To communicate, obviously. To not seem like a weirdo so boys like Ricky won’t push you around.”

  Sam shrugged. “No one listens.”

  “Well,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Maybe if you talked louder than a whisper they might actually hear you—”

  But Sam was shaking her head before I could finish. Her eyes turned shiny again, and I thought she might really cry this time. “She’s gone, even though I begged her to stay.”

  “What are you talking about? Who is?” I couldn’t help the knot that formed in my stomach and moved up
into my throat.

  “My mom.”

  “What happened to her?” I whispered.

  Sam didn’t look at me when she finally spoke. “She died.”

  Those two words broke something inside me. A crack deepened in my heart, letting out a pain I’d become so good at ignoring all those months.

  Sam’s mom died, mine chose to leave.

  I looked over at the weed-covered soccer field, over at the playground and the monkey bars, then back down at the asphalt, not wanting Sam to know that I knew how she felt. Sort of. “Oh,” I said dumbly. There was nothing else I could say. Everyone was always sorry and it never helped anyone, so I didn’t bother saying it. “That sucks.”

  Tears filled the creases of her eyes, and just as Sam turned to leave—or maybe run away— I told her something I hadn’t said out loud to anyone. “My mom’s gone too.”

  She looked back at me, wiping the tears from her eyes. “She is?”

  Uncertain why I’d told her that, I nodded once. “She left. I’m sure you already knew that—everyone seems to.”

  Sam shook her head and turned to face me fully. “I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s a surprise. And she did. Just disappeared one night. She totally sucks.”

  Sam and I stood in silence, with only the sound of kids laughing and screaming on the playground to fill our ears.

  “Anyway—” I was ready to walk away, but a male voice startled me.

  “Hey!” a boy called down the breezeway, followed by booming laughter. Both Sam and I looked over to see two fifth graders walking toward us.

  “You sure ripped that kid a new one,” said the dark haired one. His grin was wide and his hazel eyes smiled with it. “That’s the best thing I’ve seen all week—all month, actually.” He shoved his friend’s shoulder with amusement and looked back at us, registering our confusion.