Page 84 of Small Town, Big Storm

Clem, Blossom, Daisy, and I exchange looks, and they’re not comfortable.

Because none of us know what to say.

Because…whatisthere to say?

“That sucks,” Clem finally murmurs.“I’m sorry.”

A shrug that’s far more casual than the pain sliding through his eyes.“That’s professional hockey.Trades happen all the time.”

“And now you’re close to home,” Blossom says softly.

Storm’s heavy eyes come to mine.“Yes.Now I’m home.”

Notcloseto home.

But…home.

“Does that mean you’re staying?”Clem asks, clearly picking up on the same distinction I did.

Those gray eyes lock with mine, and he says simply, “Yes.”

My heart thumps hard, but before I can reply, Roger’s setting his glass on my tray.“Heading out.”He makes a show of checking his watch and looking around the almost empty bar, his chess set folded and clamped beneath one arm.“It’s getting to be about that time, isn’t it?”

Anotherthump, and I want to tell Roger to shut it, to stop interrupting when I’m finally getting somewhere.

But…it is getting to be about that time.

And Clem, Daisy, and Blossom know it too.

Clem pushes to her feet and snags the tray, using it to gather up a few rogue empties before returning to kiss my cheek.“Goodnight, honey,” she whispers as she passes it over.“And I know we still sort of hate him for leaving, but maybe go gentle on him?”

I nod.

Mostly because I think that even when I hated him, I still…

Hell, but I still loved him.

And maybe, even despite the plethora of unanswered questions, the history, the pain, and the small chance at a future, there’s still a small part of me that does.

Dumb.Dangerous.Risky!my brain screams.

The truth,my heart soothes in return.All of it.

Blossom squeezes my hand, her expression soft and full of knowing.“Love you, Pop.”

“Love you, back,” I whisper.

Daisy hugs me, and we promise to get together soon.

Then they’re gone, shooing Roger and Tommy (and Gertie) out in front of them.

The door shuts, and I stare at it for a moment, debating what I should do next.

Storm figures that out for me, hopping to his feet and going to the door, hitting the lock.It slides home with a quietclick, and then he’s disappearing down the hall.A moment later, I hear the mop bucket being wheeled out.

He parks the bucket against the wall, snags the bottle of disinfectant and a towel, and starts spraying down the tables.

“What are you doing?”I ask.