CHAPTER TWO
Mitch rose from his seat at the bar and started toward Justin like a man approaching a skittish horse. "Hey, man, what's going on?" he asked Justin.
Justin looked around the room wildly, stopping when his gaze met mine. "Where is he?" he snarled.
Dinners and drinks forgotten, everyone's attention bounced between Justin, Mitch, and me like they were watching a soap opera unfolding before them in real time.
Mitch reached Justin and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Take it easy," he said.
Justin was tall and strong, muscles honed from days of manual labor, but Mitch matched him in both height and strength. Old football buddies with a friendship that had only strengthened since high school, if anyone could defuse the situation, it would be Mitch.
Justin pushed him away, his attention still focused on me. "Where's Chris?" he asked me again. "That lying bastard said he'd be here tonight so we could settle this thing once and for all."
I sat frozen, unsure how to answer without making Justin angrier. I had no idea where Chris was.
Mitch clamped his hand on Justin's shoulder and said, "Leave Gwen out of this. No one's seen him all night. Come on. I'll buy you a drink."
"If he's staying, I'm leaving," Tony said sharply. He sat with his back to Justin and Mitch, but his words had clearly been directed at them.
Justin flexed his hands as if preparing for a fight. Andy Fox, the owner of Bucky's, flicked the bar towel over his shoulder and stepped out from behind the bar.
While not overly large or covered in tattoos like the stereotypical owner of a dive bar like Bucky's, Andy's presence loomed large. As a former Marine, he commanded attention. His gray hair was still styled in a military buzz cut. He'd owned Bucky's longer than any of us had been alive. No one messed with him. "We're not going to have any trouble tonight, boys," he said in a low, gravelly voice.
"Then I'd get him out of here," Tony said, waving his beer bottle in Justin's direction, his words a little too loud. His speech wasn't slurred, but he'd definitely drunk more than that one beer.
"If anyone's leaving, it's you," Justin shot back.
Mitch leaned in and whispered something to Justin.
The expression on Justin's face shifted from murderous to annoyed to…fear? His gaze darted around the room as if suddenly aware of the attention he'd drawn to himself.
Justin shook off Mitch's hand and growled, "I won't let Chris get away with this." He pushed through the door and disappeared into the night.
I knew it. I should've stayed. Instead of things calming down between the friends, they'd only escalated. I shot off a text to Chris. Justin just showed up at Bucky's looking for you, and he was super mad. What's going on?
The room was silent for a moment, as if everyone was collectively holding their breath before it filled with the sound of excited whispers. Nothing very newsworthy ever happened in Star Junction. The gossip mill would be grinding away by morning with speculations about what had caused the rift between Justin and Chris.
"What was that about?" Penny asked. "And how are you messed up in it?"
"I don't know what's going on between them, but Justin got to the center as I was leaving today, and he wasn't happy. I've never seen him like this," I said.
"Those guys have been friends forever," Penny said in confusion.
If it was a guy thing, Chris might not want to talk to me about it. Another guy might know, though. Maybe even Penny's husband, Jack. "Would Jack know?" I asked, hoping someone could shed some light on this.
Penny shook her head and picked up a french fry. "Nah, even though we've been back for years, most people still treat Jack like an outsider. I don't think he'd know anything."
"Welcome to life in a small town," I deadpanned.
Penny snorted out a laugh. "You said it." She glanced toward the bar. "And Tony? What's everyone so uptight about tonight?" she asked.
I looked up as if searching for answers from the heavens, although all I could see was the stained seventies-era drop ceiling. "Maybe it's a full moon thing?"
Penny chewed her bottom lip. "Something's sure stirring everyone up," she said.
* * *
Two hours later, I shrugged into my wool coat and braced to face the cold. A quick check of my weather app revealed the temperature had dropped close to zero while we'd been at dinner. "Remind me why we live here again?" I asked Penny.
Penny grimaced and said, "Because there's no place like home seems like the right answer. This time of year, though? I think it's because we're nuts."
"We're definitely nuts," I agreed.
We stepped outside, and I pulled in a deep breath, letting the cold sear into my lungs. Don't show the cold you're afraid of it, my dad always said on bitter winter mornings. Scientifically, his statement didn't carry any weight, but as a child I'd felt warmer every time we engaged the ritual.
"Helping Chris again tomorrow?" Penny asked. Her tone was light, but clearly there was a right answer here.
Thankfully, I didn't have to lie. "I'm spending the whole day in my pajamas in front of the fireplace," I said.
We said goodbye, and I hurried across the parking lot to my own car. Ten minutes later, I was in my flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers. There were some benefits to small-town living. A short commute from my house to anywhere else in town was definitely one of them.
As I went through my nightly routine of double checking the locks, filling the electric tea kettle for tomorrow morning, and slathering on all manner of creams that promised to keep me looking young forever, I thought about Penny's assessment of my relationship with Chris.
I couldn't deny the truthfulness of her words. I'd been in love with Chris ever since he used his silly stories and impressions to keep me calm in the woods all those years ago. We fit together like two puzzle pieces. Our connection seemed like fate.
Justin was important to Chris too. Heck, they'd been friends longer than we had. I couldn't figure out what they could be fighting about. And what was the deal with Justin and Tony? No one was getting along, and none of it made any sense.
Crawling under the covers, I checked my phone, ensuring the ringer was on. With my parents in the Florida Keys for their annual escape-the-worst-of-winter trip, I should have been able to sleep soundly, but my dad had been in and out of the hospital lately with a series of infections related to his diabetes. There was nothing I could do from thousands of miles away, but the thought of my mom not being able to get ahold of me in the middle of the night was unbearable.
I plugged the phone in and snuggled deeper under the covers. First thing tomorrow, I'd hunt Chris down and find out how to repair his relationship with Justin. If the boys could've fixed it themselves, they would've succeeded before Justin barreled into Bucky's tonight ruining everyone's good time with his outburst. That had settled it. I was going to have to be the one to fix whatever was broken.
* * *
Ding, ding, ding.
I sat up, jerked out of the warm, sandy beach of my dream and back to my cold, dark bedroom. Chris had been in the middle of declaring his love for me as waves lapped against our feet.
I collapsed back on my pillow. I should not have been dreaming about that. Operation Get-Over-Chris was being undermined by my own subconscious. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and squinted into the darkness. How could it be morning already?
My sleep-fogged brain took a moment to catch up to the reality of what was happening. It was still dark. Not morning. I scrambled for my phone and checked the time. Two. Who was texting me at two in the morning? My mom? I shook the last vestiges of sleep from my mind and opened my text messages, but the text wasn't from my parents. It was from Chris. Emergency! I need you. I'm at the center.
Emergency?
I jumped out of bed and searched the floor for the jeans I'd worn yesterday. My hand finally closed around them near the foot of my bed, but I stopped. I wasn't supposed to be at Chris's beck and call anymore. I looked back and forth between my bed and the jeans.
I dropped the jeans and climbed back under the covers. Chris would have to figure this one out on his own. Besides, what kind of emergency could there be in a nearly empty building in the middle of the night?
I stared at the ceiling in the dark. Why was Chris at the work site at two in the morning? What was the emergency? As much as I tried to go back to sleep, my mind flipped through worst-case scenarios. The building was structurally sound, but it was filled with tools and equipment, much of it dangerous.
I flopped onto my side. If Penny needed me at two in the morning, I'd be there in a heartbeat. How was this any different? A friend needed my help. I was just doing for Chris what I'd do for anyone. I groaned as I climbed out of bed. Maybe I was just making excuses.
This time, I didn't stop long enough to put on the jeans. I yanked my arms through an oversized-cardigan sweater that served as a makeshift bathrobe in the winter, shoved my feet into my boots, and crammed a wool hat over my hair. The legs of my red-and-black-plaid pajama pants pooled over the tops of my boots, flopping against my legs as I headed for the stairs and out the door.
"This better really be an emergency," I muttered as my car sputtered to life. Even the car was upset about being up this early.
As I drove down the quiet streets, anxiety gnawed at me. I paused at a stop sign and texted Chris. On my way. Are you okay?
No response.
I turned the corner onto Lincoln. One more block. Chris was probably dead, and it was my petty decision to ignore his text that cost him his life. "Calm down," I said to my empty car. "He probably couldn't sleep, got caught up in finishing the kitchen, needed advice, and didn't realize what time it was."
I turned into the parking lot. The building was dark. No work lights. No cars in the parking lot. Still no reply from Chris.
Scenes from every horror movie I'd ever seen invaded my mind—a woman walking toward the creepy sound coming from the basement, slowly opening the door as it creaked on its rusted hinges. Was this one of those situations? Was I turning into the stupid woman who got herself killed by the middle of the movie because she didn't run away?
I put the car in Park and stared at the building. Stupid or not, I had to make sure Chris was okay. I'd just check the door. It would be locked. Chris would text me back and let me know everything had been fine and he'd already gone home. He'd probably reopened the cut on his hand. That would definitely count as an emergency to him. Especially with what a baby he'd been about the blood.
I climbed out of my car and made it to the front door still alive. No monsters jumped out of the shadows. This wasn't a horror movie. I was overreacting to everything. I pushed on the handle, testing the lock. The door swung open at my touch, and my breath caught in my throat. Not a good sign.
I peered through the window next to the door, but the room was lost in shadows. I cracked the door open and stuck my head inside. "Chris?" No response. I stepped into the room, the door falling closed behind me. My breath puffed into the cold air.
I pulled my phone from the pocket of my baggy sweater and turned on the flashlight, panning the beam around the room. My gaze traveled over the sawhorses and tools in the corner. The light played off the stainless-steel sink at the back of the room. I ran the light up and down the scaffolding.
Sawdust from projects half-finished filtered through the beam of light from my phone and tickled my nose. "Chris? This isn't funny. If you're messing around, I'm going to kill you."
The beam of light reached the floor, centering on a pair of boots attached to a pair of legs. My breath caught. Panic flared through my body. I ran and skidded around the corner. It wasn't Chris. I choked back a sob as the harsh light from my phone bounced off the vacant eyes of Justin Hunt.