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“Good. That leaves us one week for fun, and two for prep,” Max said, as if I didn’t already have two completed drafts of my speech for that stage open on my laptop. “In the meantime, let’s get the stick out of your ass, and let your hair down. Get out of that dress. It smells like desperation and blind date douche.”
TWO
BRODERICK
November
“Eat an extra bear claw for me?” Rhyett’s voice came through the Bluetooth headphones he’d sent me last Christmas.
“Obviously,” I said, smirking as I stepped over a rain-filled gutter onto the sidewalk. Mistyvale existed in a perpetual state of hanging gray fog, especially through the winters. The harbor was full of bobbing vessels, their flags splotches of muted colors through the gloom. We held our annual winter carnival inside the new town mall to avoid this frigid mist. Even within those echoing walls and tile floors, we knew how to throw a party, and the predominant tradition was glorified fair food. I’d be indulging in every ridiculous small-town tradition tonight, alongside my friends. “How’s Brex?”
“Fucking gorgeous,” Rhyett answered without hesitating, making me grin like an idiot. “Motherhood looks so damn good on her, man.”
If Apollo had a favorite mortal, it would have been Rhyett. My best childhood friend was obnoxiously optimistic, and embodied sunshine, so it was fitting he’d settled in the state that shared the moniker. Even more so that he’d found his wife not a month after settling his feet on those white sand beaches. Just over a year and a half later, they had the cutest little cherub. Speaking of which…
“How’s my niece? She’s getting way too big.” Their daughter, Quinn, was just about nine months old, which was incomprehensible. The older we got, the faster time slipped through my fingers.
“Dude, you’re telling me. She’s so chatty now—no idea what the fuck she’s saying unless it’s one of the signs Brex taught her, but she sure says it—and is officially a roll risk anywhere we set her. The other day, I walked to the bedroom for all of forty damn seconds to find my phone, and she’d somehow wedged herself under the couch.” Chuckling, I jumped in front of a couple of gals, huddled in their winter jackets, and yanked the coffee shop door open, motioning for them to go inside. Nodding their thanks, they skirted past me before shuddering with relief at the warmth. “Did I just hear the bell to Grizzly Grind?”
“Are you a bat or something?” I demanded, following in the women’s wakes.
“I miss home, man. This time of year, especially. Make sure Kara made the iced pumpkin cookies. Those are the town favorites.” Rhyett started the Grizzly Grind coffee shop a few years before he left for Florida and had made sure we knew them for their fresh daily pastries as much as the java the girls were pouring. The hiss of milk steaming, and chatter of patrons greeted me as I dropped my hood back, leering around the line to the case, where the hand painted pumpkin-shaped cookies had dwindled to two.
“Got a few left, man, but the shelf is nearly empty.”
“Good—that’s good. That’s what we like to hear.”
“Place is hopping, McGraths are in the corner, Kara’s behind the bar, only got…two open tables.” I noted each detail as I peered around the bustling space, soaking up the chipper chatter and sugary scent of fresh sweets.
“Excellent. Now get off the phone, take out those ear buds and actually say ‘hi’ to your neighbors.”
“Piss off,” I groused, smiling to myself as I shook my head. “Not everybody feels the need to socialize every moment of their waking hours.”
Rhyett’s laugh warmed my chest. “Would do you some good now and then.”
“That’s what I have you for.”
“Haven’t been back since last summer. Worried you’re getting lonely up there.”
“That’s yet to occur, but I’ll keep you apprised of any changes.”
“Yeah, yeah. Alright, say ‘hi’ to the girls for me.”
“Will do, man. Say ‘hi’ to your girls for me.”
The smile in his voice carved my own onto my cheeks. “Will do. Love you.”
“You too.”
The subtle click of the line dying punctuated the end of our conversation, and I begrudgingly pulled one ear bud out, tucking it into its case before returning the thing to my pocket. The eclectic shop was full of the subtle notes of Christmas music, never mind that we still had Thanksgiving to look forward to.
“Broderick!” My gaze snapped to the side where a familiar freckled face beamed back at me. Noel emerged with a sleeve of new to-go cups, waving over her armful of merchandise.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I barked back, smirking at her bright smile. Rhyett had set Noel up with a spot here at Grizzly Grind last spring, while his manager was out on maternity leave and Noel was rebuilding her life. But she’d walked away when that was over, pouring her inspirational level of enthusiasm into starting a nonprofit for survivors of domestic violence, like her. The woman had a smile to melt icebergs if there's ever been one.
“Brinn’s out with a sick toddler. Least I could do was lend a hand this time of year.”
Grinning, I shook my head. “Do you ever sleep?”
