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I lit a fire in the stove and made sure the smoke was going up the chimney instead of into the house, and Adam got Brooke situated in bed. I returned to find her in a half-reclined position with her leg propped up on a few pillows.
A chill had already settled into the house, so Adam and I made ourselves comfortable on either side of Brooke and pulled the comforter around us. We were all fully clothed, so it wasn’t the sexiest thing I’d ever done, but it sent a thrill racing through me anyway.
“Since it’s too early for bed, what should we do?” Adam asked.
I had a few ideas, but I wasn’t sure getting naked and sticky was the smartest way to kick off an evening without power or heat. We’d save that until the lights came back on.
“What’s Sebastian’s deal, do you know?” Brooke asked. “How do you go from EMT to new age tea shop owner?”
When it came to the history of this street, I had a pretty solid base of knowledge. Though my grandparents left out the basement details from the stories they told me as a kid, I assumed the rest of what they told me had some elements of truth in them, and I’d seen how the place changed since then. I also knew the stories of most of the people on the street.
And Sebastian’s story was one of the most interesting ones. “He’s a genius. That’s not a phrase I toss out there lightly, he’s one of those high IQ people. His senior year of high school, he came up with a killer tech idea. Well, killer at the time. He was going to build a website that made it easy to book flight, hotel, and car rentals, basically reserve your entire vacation, in a single place.”
“Did someone steal his idea?” Brooke sounded fascinated.
I winced. “Not exactly.”
“Sebastian is a big idea guy. Big ideas, but the way he wants to put those ideas into practice aren’t always the most marketable. Not that I take issue with that.” Creation for the sake of creation was a wonderful thing. “But he had a friend at the time who saw a different application for Sebastian’s idea. He didn’t share that insight with Sebastian, but he did sell the concept to investors. Hundreds of millions in investments, for a piece of software that was nothing like what Sebastian was building.”
Adam hissed. “Ouch. Why don’t I know this story?”
“It’s not exactly the kind of thing he broadcasts.” Though I wasn’t sure whyI’dnever told Adam. “Anyway, like so many vaporware products of the early 2000’s, the company crumbled when investors realized there was nothing there. Sebastian was so burned on the whole thing that he got out of tech completely, and got his EMT certification instead. He was doing that until his grandmother passed away about six years ago and left him her shop. He feels an obligation to make it work.”
We made our way down the street, story-wise, talking about Aubrey and her place, the music shop, and every other building, business, or owner I knew the history of. Brooke and Adam both seemed to devour the stories.
“What about you?” Brooke’s question surprised me.
It shouldn’t have—it made sense given the topic—but I stumbled on my response. “What about me?”
“What’s Deacon’s story?” she asked.
Adam raised his hand. “I would also like to know that.”
“You already know my story. I basically grew up in this place and I inherited it. Except unlike Sebastian, I was familiar with my trade and happy to step into the role.”
Brooke furrowed her brows and nodded her head. Herhmmwas contemplative. “I give it a six.”
“You’re being generous. I might have gone with four-point-five rounded up to five,” Adam said.
I turned enough to stare at both of them in disbelief, pretending I didn’t get the reference. “Come again?”
Adam snorted. “That’s what she said.”
“I didn’t have to. It happened regardless.” Brooke blushed. “Butanyway, your story. It’s got good structure. Probably a decent narrator voice, though it didn’t last long enough to be sure. It’s plausible, but light on details and world-building. I give it a six.”
I pushed out a growl. “We can’t all have tragic backstories.” Sure, there was more to my being here than what I’d offered, but it wasn’t Pulitzer winning stuff, or whatever kinds of awards they gave for people talking about their pasts. Besides, summoning some of those memories left an ache inside that I would rather not dive into.
“Do you have any backstory?” Adam asked. “Baby Deacon just appeared out of nowhere one day andbamhe was a smooth as fuck, all around great guy who knew everything about antiques and was destined for the shop he grew up in?”
Not quite. “Close enough.” My story drew some parallels to Adam’s, but I still wasn’t in the mood to dive into it.
“Come on, you know my tale. You know Brooke’s.” Adam’s voice was cajoling.
The past hammered in my skull, roaring to be released from the box it sat locked in ninety-nine percent of the time. “And I’m grateful that you trusted me enough to share.”
“Tit-for-tat,” Adam said. “At least a hint.”
“Drop it.” The words came out harsher than I intended.
