Chapter 4
Poppy
Ruin The Friendship by Taylor Swift
The shop lights buzz overhead, and I’m elbow-deep in another engine again. It’s late, and I wish I were at home curled up on the couch after the nearly twelve hours I’ve put in today. My body hurts in places I didn’t know it could hurt.
I’m wiping grease from my forearms when the bell over the front door jingles. Ollie and Owen step inside. And Ollie… yeah.
He’s in his Bridger Falls Firefighter hoodie and navy cargo pants that sit low on his hips and fit him just right. The sleeves are pushed up, showing off forearms that look like they were carved by a man who lifts heavy things and saves people for a living.
His hair is dark brown, thick, and just long enough to fall into his eyes when he hasn’t had time for a cut.
Right now, it’s messy in that unfair way that looks accidental but absolutely isn’t.
His eyes are a deep, steady hazel which always make me feel like he’s actually listening when I talk, like nothing else exists in the room.
He’s tall too. Solid. Easily six foot and then some, filling up my shop doorway.
He looks like a firefighter calendar model who just wandered into my shop.
Which is ridiculous. Best friends don’t notice things like strong shoulders and broad chests.
They don’t clock the way hoodies stretch across muscles or how someone’s presence shifts the air in the room.
They definitely don’t stand there thinking about how unfairly good someone looks in navy cargo pants.
I glance over at Owen and do a double take at his black eye. “Whoa. What happened?” I ask as I cup his jaw gently and turn his face, looking at it.
“I had ice on it.” Owen shrugs. “I’m fine.”
My stomach flutters with worry. “What happened?”
“You’re not going to like it, Pops.” Owen grimaces, and my eyes narrow.
“Who did that?” I repeat quietly, trying not to lose it. I grit my teeth.
“Coach Toddy,” Owen says, eyeing me cautiously.
“Coach Toddy?” Heat floods my veins as I look at Ollie for confirmation, because surely, I’m not hearing this right. There’s no way. No way.
I drop the rag in my hand and grab the nearest wrench, already turning toward the door.
“I will weld his truck to a fucking dumpster. After I smash in his windshield.”
Ollie catches me around the waist, laughing even as he hauls me back. “Easy there, Valkyrie.”
The warmth of him, his scent, and the solid press of his body slow me down before my brain catches up. His fingers brush mine as he wrestles the wrench from my grip, sparks jumping even as my breathing evens out.
Owen laughs and looks at Ollie. “Told you.”
“Don’t encourage her, bud.” Ollie chuckles, but I detect a hint of concern in his usually playful tone.
“Tell me everything,” I demand.
Owen explains what happened with Ollie nodding and clarifying a few things. Then Owen adds, “Ollie punched Coach Toddy square in the nose.”
“What?” I side-eye Ollie. I notice a faint graze on his knuckles, obviously from earlier, but it’s not the punch that gets me. It’s the image of him, storming in like some avenging angel for Owen, that makes my chest twist in a way it shouldn’t.
“Everything’s fine,” Ollie says, giving my little brother a look.
“Are you in trouble?” I ask, eyes wide.
“Nope! Sheriff Matthew says he didn’t see nothin’,” Owen says proudly.
Oh, thank God. I take a mental note to fix his truck for free next time he brings it in.
I’ve always liked the sheriff. Rumor has it he used to take his vehicle over an hour away to get fixed.
But when my dad left, he started coming in, and that isn’t lost on me. He didn’t trust Sully but trusts me.
“You’re still working?” Ollie asks, eyebrows pulling together as he looks around the shop like he’s trying to change the subject.
“Yep.” I roll my shoulders. “Almost done.”
“You eat yet?” he asks, his gaze on me.
I shrug and turn back to the engine. “I ate earlier.”
I haven’t eaten since this morning, with the two pieces of stale toast I threw in the toaster and put the last bit of peanut butter on, which I make a mental note to replace at the General Store next time I get groceries.
Owen cuts his eyes at him, as if he’s telling him I’m lying—little traitor.
Ollie’s voice goes serious but firm. “You need to eat.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, grabbing a ratchet to avoid eye contact.
“Why did the school call you and not me?” I ask, suddenly realizing that I didn’t get a call.
Ollie takes a breath like he’s prepping for impact. “Owen called me from the locker room.”
“But you were on shift?” I ask, confused.
“We all went.” Ollie shrugs.
That’s great. The Bridger Falls fire department will show up for my kid at the drop of a hat. They’d roll out in full trucks if he called. And Sully can’t be bothered even to remember he exists.
The rage tastes bitter on my tongue.
“Thank you,” I say softly to Ollie. “For being there.”
I want to say thank you for always being there. For being the best friend I could ever ask for. I want to say so much right now, but I’m so exhausted, and there’s so much I’d want to say if I could find the words.
He looks at me like he doesn’t understand why I’m thanking him at all. “Of course. He called. I’m his emergency contact for a reason. I’ll show up for you both anytime and anywhere.”
That right there… that hits me too deep.
“Oh, hey, and guess what, Poppy? Guess who’s my coach?” Owen smiles proudly.
“Who?” I ask. “And if you say Toddy, I’m gonna throw him off a cliff.”
Owen smirks. “Ollie.”
I snort and look at my best friend. “You’re coaching?”
“Hey! I’m going to be a great coach!” Ollie says.
“Yeah, you will be.” I lean into him, and for a moment it’s just a hug, full body contact, arms wrapped tight around each other. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Normally, hugging Ollie is casual, friendly, something we do all the time without thinking. But this time… this time is different.
I let myself sink into it, letting the exhaustion from the day, week, years, settle across my shoulders. My head rests just above his steady heartbeat, the rhythm grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed. His arms band around me, strong and warm, holding me closer than usual.
The scent of his firefighting t-shirt, fresh laundry soap mixed with him, fills my senses, comforting and intoxicating.
I know I shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t let it make my chest tighten and my thoughts spin.
And yet… there it is. That forbidden flicker, the part of me that’s always tried to keep him at arm’s length, now squirming, alive in the middle of this hug.
“You got it,” he says before stepping back.
Owen pulls me in for a hug, which surprises me. He usually acts like I’m trying to murder him when I hug him these days. I know he needs it because he hugs me back, but he usually pretends he’s too cool for hugs.
“Thanks, Ollie. For everything,” he says as he hugs him next, and my heart clenches a little.
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, buddy.” He waves as he heads up the back stairs to the apartment he lives in above the shop.
"Hey,” he calls. “There are some subs on the table there that I picked up at Harvest & Honey. Text me when you guys get home.”
“Thank you.” I smile gratefully. “I will.”
We shrug on our coats, and I turn out the lights. My body aches with every step like I’m carrying too much weight, and I guess I am. Only it’s mental weight.
We drive home in my old pickup, and the silence in the cab presses around us until Owen practically falls asleep against the window.
When we walk into the house, I flip on the kitchen light, and the fridge hums loudly like it’s mocking me.
A little prayer slips out, quiet and desperate. “Please, God. Just a few more jobs this week. Something. Anything.”
Because Owen deserves full plates, a warm home, and a life where people don’t bully him. And I’m going to give him all of that. No matter what it takes. I’ll work twenty-four seven and forgo sleep and anything else if I need to.
Ollie’s earlier words flash through my head. I think about how fast he showed up and how he stood up for Owen and me. And he does it without questioning it.
I’ll be calling the school and the sheriff’s office tomorrow to follow up and let them know I’m aware. They’d better not let that happen again, and I will be following up on what happens to Toddy. This is not okay.
I lean my head against the cold metal fridge door, head throbbing from stress. Then, I take Owen’s backpack from his shoulder and set it on the chair. “Why is it all wet?”
He rubs his bruised cheek, embarrassed and tired. “They threw it in the shower.”
My chest tightens, and I can feel the prickle of tears gathering behind my eyes. My chin wobbles before I even notice it. How can people not see how precious this kid is? How could anyone treat him like that?
“I’ll help you,” I tell him, my voice a little shaky as I unzip his backpack and start pulling everything out. My hands shake slightly, not from fear, but from the rush of wanting to protect him from a world that can be so cruel.”
“Go on,” I say gently. “Go take your shower. I’ll get it all cleaned up.”
He nods and heads down the hallway, looking so small that I want to keep him in a protective bubble and away from assholes like our dad, Coach Toddy, and those mean kids. He doesn’t deserve any of that.
I sigh and stand alone in the kitchen for a long minute, staring at nothing, heart too heavy in the quiet. I clean up and head to the shower, hoping there’s still some hot water.