Chapter Five #2
“Because it’s fun,” she said sweetly, looping an L on one of the name tags she was making. “Also, because it’s written all over your face. You get this look, you know. Like you just remembered every bad decision you ever made and want to repeat them all at once.”
“That’s absurd,” I said, even though I could still feel my cheeks burning. “I’m just… tired. And the lighting here is bad. And I—what are you even doing?”
“Writing name tags for the staff of the Pancake Breakfast,” she said, not missing a beat. “We need them for tomorrow.”
“The what?”
She looked up, scandalized. “The Reckless River Holiday Pancake Breakfast. It’s the event of the season!”
I blinked. “You people get this excited about pancakes?”
“Pancakes, Santa, and syrup,” she said, counting on her fingers. “What more do you need?”
“Therapy?”
She ignored me. “You’re helping, by the way.”
“I’m not.”
“You are now,” she said, sliding me a sheet of stickers and a pen. “Pick a festive font.”
I groaned. “You’ve turned into one of them, you know that? You’re happy.”
“Tragic, isn’t it?”
Her smile was so annoyingly content that I couldn’t even be mad. Not really. Because for all my teasing, seeing Lydia this blissful made something in me ache.
I missed believing in simple things like pancakes and love and not constantly second-guessing everything.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Pass me the glitter tape.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I scrawled Riley Barista Extraordinaire on a tag, mostly to annoy her. She was the local barista and coffee shop owner down the street.
Lydia laughed. “See? You’re practically festive.”
“Practically deranged,” I corrected.
“Potato, potahto.”
Before I could respond, a shadow fell over the table. I looked up.
Drew.
He was holding a shot glass, the peppermint schnapps gleaming like liquid candy cane.
“Delivery,” he said, setting it down in front of me.
I frowned. “I didn’t order this.”
Lydia raised her hand. “I did.”
Of course she did.
Drew smirked. “It’s on the house.”
“Trying to butter me up now?” I asked, suspicious.
He leaned against the edge of the booth, one brow raised. “Actually, I came to call a truce.”
I blinked. “A truce?”
“Yeah,” he said, straightening. “You’ve made it very clear you want me to leave you alone. So I will. Consider this my peace offering.” He nodded toward the drink. “Peppermint diplomacy.”
Lydia was trying, and failing, not to grin.
I forced a smile, ignoring the strange little drop in my stomach. “Wow. Look at you, all mature.”
“I have my moments.”
“Rarely.”
He laughed. “Probably for the best. Wouldn’t want to scare anyone.”
I rolled the shot between my fingers, pretending the fizz of disappointment in my chest wasn’t real. This was what I wanted—distance. No more teasing, no more late-night chaos, no more confusion.
So why did it feel like something sharp and cold had lodged under my ribs?
“Fine,” I said after a beat. “Truce accepted.”
“Good.” He straightened, that easy grin still in place but softer now. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”
And just like that, he walked back to the bar.
Lydia watched me for a long moment, her head tilted like she was trying to read my mind. “You okay?”
“Perfect.”
“You look… disappointed.”
“I’m thrilled,” I said, throwing back the schnapps. The peppermint burned pleasantly on the way down. “Can’t you tell?”
Lydia’s mouth twitched. “You always do that thing where you pretend you’re fine and then glare at a wall for thirty minutes.”
“I don’t glare.”
“You’re glaring right now.”
“I’m reflecting.”
She smirked. “Mmhmm. On what?”
“On how to get through this weekend without committing a felony.”
Her laugh was soft. “You could try just talking to him.”
“About what? The weather? His forearms?”
“I mean, those are two great conversation starters.”
“Lydia—”
But she was already distracted, waving to someone across the room. “Oh! Beth needs me. Don’t drown in denial while I’m gone.”
“Beth? Who’s Beth?”
“She just moved into town about a month ago.” She disappeared toward the counter, leaving me alone with my drink and my tangle of thoughts.
I tried not to watch Drew. I really did. But he was hard to ignore, laughing with the regulars, that easy charm radiating off him like heat from the fire. He poured drinks with quick, practiced motions, forearms flexing, tattoos shifting as he moved.
And then I saw her.
A blonde ski bunny, tiny waist, white sweater, the kind of woman who always smells like expensive lotion and confidence, not paste and construction paper. She was leaning over the counter, giggling at something he said, touching her hair in that way women do when they’re interested.
Drew smiled politely, said something back, and handed her a drink.
Something ugly twisted in my chest.
Oh.
Oh, that’s why the truce.
I picked up my glass and downed what was left. The schnapps was still cold, but not half as cold as the realization spreading through me.
So this was it. He’d moved on.
And I’d wanted that, hadn’t I?
I’d practically demanded it.
Lydia returned a moment later, eyes flicking between me and the bar. “Everything okay?”
“Perfect,” I said, forcing a bright smile. “I think the cold shoulder sounds fabulous, actually.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Just agreeing with him,” I said, grabbing my coat from the back of the booth. “He said he’d leave me alone the rest of the weekend. Seems like we’re finally on the same page.”
Before she could say anything, I turned toward the door, ignoring the way Drew’s laughter carried across the bar.
Outside, the wind bit at my cheeks, sharp and clean.
Inside, I could still feel the echo of his fingers in my hair.
And no matter how much I told myself it didn’t matter, my heart refused to listen.