“Thanks, Lori.” My steps are slow as I make my way behind the counter. My body feels weighed down, like something is gripping my shoulders and making it difficult to move comfortably.
It's been nearly six years, and for the most part, I'm able to make it through each day without the inky black hole of grief consuming me. Today, preventing myself from letting the misery take hold is going to be a challenge.
“You alright this morning?” Loretta asks, joining me behind the counter and setting the pot of coffee down.
“Jake started school this morning,” I tell her, hoping it'll be enough of an explanation for my splotchy cheeks and the tint of red lingering in my eyes thanks to the sting of tears I was helpless to fight. I knew today wouldn't be easy, but I wasn't expecting it to hit me as hard as it did. My little boy spent the morning over the moon with excitement about starting school. While his mood was contagious, I was also mentally adding the day to the list of things that Ry had missed out on. Moments in time that come and go in the blink of an eye.
“I bet he was excited,” she says.
“Oh, he was. He spent the morning stomping around in his light-up shoes. I was barely out of bed, and he’d already gotten dressed, backpack and all.”
With a smile on her face, she shakes her head fondly. “I remember when mine were little. Ben spent the morning in tears. Practically had to peel him off of me.”
“That’s kinda what I was expecting.” I laugh. “But he was so excited. He couldn’t wait to get on the playground and make friends.” My eyes burn with unshed tears as I turn away from her and take in the few filled tables and red vinyl booths. I just need something to distract myself with for the next few hours.
Thankfully, my shift goes quickly. Tom Mercer, one of the town’s retired police officers, comes in for his usual coffee fix and to-go order. He comes in once a week to pick up lunch to take home to his wife. Visiting with him isn’t exactly the kind of distraction I had in mind, but he at least doesn’t treat me as though I need to be handled with care. His entire career was spent with the Hartridge Police Department. I’m sure he’s no stranger to loss.
The small bell above the entry door chimes as I’m finishing my task of refilling the napkin dispensers and wiping down the tables from the afternoon rush. Being in the diner when it’s quiet like this, during one of the rare lulls, is oddly peaceful. I look up to see Olivia sliding onto one of the barstools at the counter, her nose buried in her phone.
I turn to face the wall of coffee mugs, each one unique. Some of them were donated by locals, and some were picked up by Loretta and Hank on one of their many adventures. There are even a few that I picked up myself, either at a secondhand store or while I was out shopping. Apparently, Loretta was known for having a crazy coffee mug collection before opening the diner. When she finally did, Hank insisted that her collection be used here instead.
Pulling down a light purple mug from where it sits on the shelf, I fill it with hot coffee and load it up with creamer. “Busy day?” I ask, setting it in front of Liv.
She drops her phone on the counter and sits back with a groan. “It’s been insane. I’m so ready for the weekend.” Her eyes flick to the purple mug, a smile spreading across her face. “You’re a lifesaver, Tess.” She takes a sip and closes her eyes, savoring the freshly brewed flavors.
“It’s only Monday,” I laugh. “A little too early to already be wishing for the weekend, don’t you think?”
Her eyes meet mine over the lip of the coffee mug before she sets it down, her hands still wrapped around it. “You would think so, but Tilly’s stressing over every minor detail for the event on Friday. I keep trying to tell her that once people get a few drinks in ‘em, they won’t care about half the stuff she’s worried about.”
That doesn’t surprise me. Her sister, Tilly, has always been the type to overthink everything. She lets the smallest of things get to her, and once something goes wrong, she starts worrying about everything else. Whereas Olivia is more of the laid-back, go-with-the-flow type. Honestly, most days I don’t know how they can stand to run a business together.
“I’m sure everything will go off without a hitch come Friday,” I say. Knowing them, I wouldn’t expect anything less.
“You’re coming, right?” Excitement laces her words.
When she first mentioned their plans to host a line dancing and mechanical bull riding night at their bar, The Stampede, I promised I would be there. My parents didn’t hesitate to offer to keep Jake for the night, and while it won’t be the first time I’ve left him overnight with them, guilt still eats away at my stomach. What if he gets sick while I’m out and I’m too busy having fun that I don’t hear my phone ringing or see their text messages? What if he suddenly decides he would rather sleep in his own bed and wants to come home?
The thoughts swirling through my mind must be written across my face because Liv leans forward across the counter and says, “C’mon, Tess. It’s only one night. You deserve to let loose and have some fun.”
My chin dips to my chest, my eyes falling shut as I sigh. She’s right. I know she’s right. The odds of anything happening are slim. I used to enjoy our nights out all the time, and there’s a part of me that feels bad I haven’t been up to it in a long time. But my son is older now. He’s inschoolnow, something I swore was years and years away, and yet it managed to sneak up on me as though I blinked and the time vanished.
“I’ll be there,” I say reluctantly. The hint of unease churning inside of me isn’t going to go away, but I owe her this. She has always been by my side when I needed her the most. Now, it’s my turn to return the favor.
It’s only one night out. What could possibly happen?
Chapter two
Logan
Thesmellofsmokeclings to everything. Doesn’t matter where it came from or how much you wash your gear. Doesn’t matter how long you spend in the shower, scrubbing at your skin until it’s red and raw. Once it’s in, it’s in. Like a nightmare, it sinks its teeth in and never lets go. After a while, the scent becomes a comfort—a sense of peace. Lately, the lingering traces of smoke only leave me aching for more.
More of what, I don’t know.
“Bet you never got fires like that in the city, huh, Bennett?” Cain asks, giving me shit just to get a rise out of me.
The guys have been on my ass since I transferred in, insisting I have to prove myself like I’m some probie.
I moved to Hartridge, a small town nestled at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Upcountry of South Carolina, a few months ago in hopes of figuring out what was missing from my life. After spending the first part of my career battling fires in a major city, I realized how lonely life can be without a support system. Granted, the men and women at the station become a second family, but when the long shifts end and it’s time to go home, the feeling of isolation can hit pretty hard. Moving here wasn’t an easy decision, but it was a necessary one if Iwas going to maintain my sanity and continue on the path I’d ventured down.
