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Like always.
The gym. God, I knew I would never forget the feeling of the mesh digging into my hip, leaving my leg full of pins and needles. My shoulders ached. My neck throbbed. Some of that was because this was one of the few times that I’d slept in the last days. The rest was because the cots weren’t comfortable.
They got us off the floor.
They were better than nothing.
But I’d never enjoyed camping, and I was too damned old for the post-fire version of it now.
I wouldn’t be sleeping anywhere else, though. Not in the apartments. Not in the houses or on the couches offered.
Not until everyone had a place to go.
You didn’t mind sleeping in Joel’s bed though, did you?
Cool. Thanks, conscience.Justwhat I needed. To be reminded of not only my breakdown but that night and all I’d felt and all hehadn’tfelt.
“Fuck,” I whispered, allowing my lids to peel open, bracing myself against the bright lights overhead.
But they’d been dimmed, and the buzz of conversation had died down.
Like it was late.
Like I’d slept for hours and hours.
And considering how stiff my body was, that seemed likely.
Groaning softly, I shifted on the cot, stretching my toes, discovering that some lovely soul had removed my shoes. Socks and jeans and a tee and a hoodie. My preferred uniform, even though I’d had a closet full of business—blouses and skirts and suits and heels.
All gone now.
I wouldn’t cry aboutthatloss—though I might cry about having to shop for new work clothes.
River’s Bend wasn’t all about the fancy. It was a small town that appreciated authenticity with very little fuss. But my goal had been to make it a city where schools and streets and community events were funded, where we had nice parks and a solid police force and an awesome library with lots of books and new computers and classes for seniors and kids. A great place to raise a family. Somewhere kids could walk home, and teens could hang out.
Good restaurants and a nightlife that meant the street didn’t roll up at nine, but that wasn’t so raging it kept the entire neighborhood up.
When I’d somehow found myself in the role of mayor—a role I’d never really wanted, but one I should have known I would never be able to escape—I’d known River’s Bend had good bones.
I’d loved my childhood.
But we, as a town, had problems.
And not enough funding to fix them.
So, I’d done my part. I’d secured the contract with the Rush during my first term, raised money to refurbish the local rink, make it a home for a minor league hockey team. That money meant we’d also improved the infrastructure surrounding that part of town, and because the team was good and there wasn’t a lot of professional hockey in the area, the games had drawn visitors from the surrounding cities and towns. This meant extra income for River’s Bend that had allowed for a revamp our downtown, something that had drawn new businesses and raised property values.
A success all around. Until the Rush had begun carousing and making trouble and the City Council—in a moment of short-sighted idiocy—had threatened to pull their contract.
I’d had to take them in hand, take Axel and Joel and the others to task.
But I was Billie Rose. I’d managed.
Unfortunately, it had put me in the crosshairs of one Joel Marshall.
“Stop,” I whispered.
I’d been mayor for eight years.
