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“You’reon.”Jackfucking hated shoveling snow.TheRangershad better win.
Beckettturned up the volume on theTVslightly, and when the game went to commercial,Jackglanced around the pub again.Hewas always on alert; it was a habit that had been drilled into him in both theArmyand the police academy, and one he didn’t know how to switch off.Hetook in the colorful tapestries hanging on the wood paneled walls, the gleaming parquet floor, the stack of split logs piled neatly next to the fireplace.Mismatchedtables and chairs were spaced throughout the pub, most of them empty.Twoguys in their twenties sat at one of the tables, each nursing a beer, talking and watching the game.Anolder couple, theHerberts, sat on the long couch by the fire, talking softly while she knit and he flipped the pages of a newspaper, neat glasses of brandy in front of both of them.
Jacksipped his beer, glancing up at the screen and grimacing when theRangerstook a penalty for roughing. “Fuckme,” he muttered, shaking his head.Therewas a tightness in his chest, a heaviness across his shoulders that he couldn’t seem to shake tonight.Thenews thatNorahwas engaged toIanwasn’t surprising.He’dseen it coming.Andyet, he still felt like he’d just been plowed over by a truck.He’dbarely mustered up the energy to drag himself into the bar tonight, even though he wantedBeckett’scompany.
“You’renot my type,”Beckettquipped, smirking at him. “Butshe might be.”Hetipped his head in the direction of the front door.Jackcould tell that it had just opened with the gust of cold air sliding along his back.
Jackdidn’t turn and shook his head. “Notlooking tonight.”
Beckettarched an eyebrow at him. “Justlook.Ipromise, you won’t regret it.”
Witha roll of his eyes,Jackturned on his stool.Awoman stood just inside the bar, stamping her boots on the mat and brushing snow off of her expensive-looking coat.Sheturned, andJack’sheart dropped into his stomach for a second as he stared.Andstared.Andstared.
“Toldya,” saidBeckett, butJackdidn’t even respond.Hewas too busy drinking in long espresso-colored hair shining sleekly in the soft lights, huge, luminous eyes, an upturned nose, a heart-shaped mouth, and a long, delicate neck.Hercheeks were pink from the cold, and snowflakes clung to her hair.Shelooked like a woodland fairy, just emerged from a winter wonderland.
Hesighed and turned back to the bar, taking a long pull on his beer.Astempting as it was, he didn’t need a gorgeous tourist tonight.Heneeded to be in his feelings so he could move forward and be the dadChloeneeded him to be.Infact, he could probably do with fewer gorgeous tourists in general.Chloewas in middle school.Shewas starting to notice boys, according to his sisterAutumn.Thelast thing he needed was for her to notice her dad’s less than exemplary dating patterns.
“Notgonna go for it?” askedBeckett, tilting his head.Justthen, thePenguinsscored, and he rapped his knuckles on the bar and shotJacka smirk. “Oh,Iam so not shoveling tomorrow.”
“We’llsee about that.Don’tget cocky, it’s just the first period.”
“Seriously, though.Ifyou’re not interested inLittleMissGorgeousover there,IthinkImight be.”
Jackshrugged. “Gofor it, man.”Andyet…the words tasted slightly bitter in his mouth. “I’mnot up for company tonight.”
“Becauseyou didn’t take your little blue pill?”Beckettsmirked at him andJacktossed a coaster in his direction.Itsailed over the bar and landed on the floor.
“Hey,I’mthirty-eight, not fifty.JesusChrist.”
“You’recloser to fifty than twenty.”
Jackflipped him off.
Beckettjust laughed.Thesecond youngest in the family, he’d always been a shit who lived to terrorize his older siblings.Andyet, he was always there when he was needed.Itwas just theShephardway.Therewere sixShephardsiblings in total—Adam,Jack,Oliver,Finn,Beckett, andAutumn—and they’d always been close.They’dsomehow grown even closer after the unexpected death of their father a couple of years ago, rallying around their mother and holding each other up in the face of loss.
Well, everyone exceptFinn, who’d taken off without a backward glance the minute their father’s funeral was over.Whenhe thought aboutFinnand the way he’d run off,Jacktried to look at his brother’s actions with empathy.Butdeep down,Jackwas angry.Itfelt likeFinnhad abandoned their family when they needed him most.Hisactions felt selfish and immature, and that wasnothow things were done in theShephardfamily.
“Whatthe hell you thinking about him for right now?” askedBeckett, a hint of a growl creeping into his voice.IfJackwas angry atFinn,Beckettwas livid.They’dbeen best friends growing up.Anymention ofFinnhadBeckettstomping around and growling.Jack’sanger was nothing compared toBeckett’s.
“Justthinking about our family and stuff.Justthinking in general.”
“I’mtelling you, thinking is not what you need tonight.”Hemoved to the other side of the bar to take an order from the two guys in their twenties who were wanting another pint.
Jackglanced over his shoulder again, but the woman wasn’t anywhere to be seen.Hetook it as a sign to forget about her and just watch the damn hockey game.
Rosalie’swalk from theShephardInntoPourDecisionshad been snowy and cold, but also somewhat peaceful.Thesnow was still falling steadily, but the wind had died down, taking the worst of the chill out of the air.Therewere no cars on the streets, and only a handful of pedestrians.Thestreetlights glowed softly, illuminating the path of the gently swirling snowflakes.Everythingwas blanketed in white, like a visual hush over the world.
Theinside of the pub was even cozier than she’d hoped, and she looked around as she stamped the snow off of her boots on the rug in the entranceway.Afire crackled merrily in the fireplace, and a few tables were occupied with people watching theRangersgame, or chatting quietly amongst themselves.Softjazz music floated through the speakers, and the scent of woodsmoke hung in the air.
Thebar itself was long and took up the majority of the space along the back wall.Bottleslined the backlit shelves, and she could smell the warm, yeasty scent of beer mingling with the woodsmoke.Alone customer sat at the bar, his back to her, his attention on the hockey game as he chatted with the bartender.
Shenoticed a display of black and white photographs on the wall to the right of the bar, so she wandered in that direction, eyes scanning over the images.Theframes were an eclectic mix, and each picture showcased a part of the town’s history.Therewere photos of the old foundry thatIndyhad mentioned, the original town hall, a catastrophic flood in the 1920s, the opening of the train station, and of course, the falls themselves, all in varying sizes and levels of historical graininess.Shespent several seconds looking at each one.Shewasn’t normally into history, but there was something about this place that interested her.
Mixedin with the photos were framed newspaper clippings about the town and surrounding area, including one from the late 1940s about the opening of theShephardInn.Shemoved closer, peering at the yellowed paper in the dim light, eyes roving over the building that looked much the same today as it had nearly eighty years ago.Acouple stood proudly by the front doors, beaming from ear to ear.God, they looked young.Shesquinted to read the caption below the photograph. “Mr. andMrs.NicholasandMaryShephardare the proud owners of theShephardInn, which opened its doors to guests last week.”
“NicholasandMary,” she murmured to herself, goosebumps dancing over her arms.Maybeshe was so interested in this place and the people because of the deep roots visible nearly everywhere she looked.Rootswere something she’d never really had, and for a long time, she’d been convinced that she didn’t want them.Butnow, in this small town where everyone seemed to know everyone else’s name, where neighbors were friends, and a collective history bound everyone together, she was thinking that maybe she’d never wanted them because she didn’t understand what they actually were.
Whenshe was a kid, her parents had moved around a lot as her dad bounced from job to job, always chasing some impossible dream, and she’d lived inBrooklyn,Newark,Queens,Yonkers,Hoboken,Flushing, andManhattanbefore the age of ten.
