Chapter 2
Finn
Have you ever tried to make a Bernese mountain dog speed up?
An old one at that, crippled with arthritis and doggy dementia?
Yeah, that’s how not-so-fast I am, making my way to the Caffeine Drip, trying to be patient with Lilly.
Nothing much has changed in Elken Grove since I’ve been here last. Granted, I was gone for just a few months, and nothing much ever happens in Elken Grove.
Still, it’s reassuring that it looks the same: a quaint little town in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
With us is Neil. We met in rehab, both tackling knee issues—mine from the accident, and his as part of his journey to reshape his obese body.
We clicked instantly, and one inebriated night, fueled by subpar beer, we dreamed up a brewery.
The idea of crafting beers we love is thrilling.
Moreover, despite given my doctor's assurance of a full recovery, switching to a less physically demanding career than lumberjacking and firefighting seems wise.
Elken Grove's brewery shut down a few years ago, following a corporate buyout. Tomorrow, Neil and I meet with a real estate agent to view the old premises.
All these plans whirl in my mind, as I hurry to get my fix of caffeine.
And to see Jennie. Our friendship has been an important part of my life for years, and somewhere along the way, my feelings for her had evolved beyond friendship.
Holding off to act on it had been hard, but I didn’t want to create any drama or take away from Lyle and Grace’s day.
That ended up being Rory and Hunter’s day, too.
I chuckle at that thought. Talk about drama!
In rehab, I’ve had quite a number of disturbingly detailed wet dreams about her, and not all of them had been while sleeping.
I intend to ask her out on a date, maybe not today, but someday soon.
Better take this slow. Lesser minds might think I’m scared of making a move, and they’d be totally right.
My friendship with Jennie is—for a lack of a less corny word—something sacred.
It’s the one thing I’d better not foul up. That would kill me.
The Caffeine Drip is bustling as we enter. Lilly slouches to her usual spot. We have given up long ago trying to keep her out, as she tends to get very vocal about things she doesn’t like. Her bark is known and feared in Elken Grove.
At first, nobody notices us, absorbed in some commotion. Jennie, with her back to me, stands defiantly, fists on her ample hips. Some stranger, a tourist probably, shouts at her, "You'll regret that, fatty!"
I tense and step forward, but Neil holds me back.
“Oh, I’m not fat,” Jennie retorts, her voice sultry. “I just have curves in the most unexpected places.”
Laughter erupts in the café, and Jennie high-fives Robin.
The joy on her face is contagious. She has changed.
Despite the satisfaction of her quip given like the warrior princess she is, she somehow looks softer, more vulnerable.
The fire must have scared her bad. I feel the need to wrap her in my arms, but that would not actually be “taking it slowly.”
Suppressing that part of me, I feel light-headed.
I cheer the loudest, acting jollier and chipper than I actually feel.
I draw attention, and soon people flock to meet me, to shake my hand or pat my back.
But I only have eyes for Jennie. The joy has been wiped off her face, replaced by something dark and lifeless.
She winces, clutching her stomach as if my presence causes her physical pain, then hurries into the kitchen.
This reunion is nothing like I imagined. Of course, I am still limping and not quite right in the head—still can’t remember that night—but I would never have thought this would put Jennie off this much.
Forcing a smile, I introduce Neil with exaggerated enthusiasm, masking my hurt behind boisterousness. I share our plans for reviving the old brewery, as if these were the desires closest to my heart, and regale my audience with funny tales of rehab.
Robin gets our orders, on the house. A kind gesture, but it feels hollow. Everything does.
“Be patient with her,” Robin advises.
Patient with her? She’s been here all along, her life unchanged.
I’m the one who’s endured injury, endless treatment, and rehabilitation.
Granted, after rehab I didn’t come home right away, but went on a three-week trip with Neil, testing beers and checking out craft breweries all across the south.
Still, I had expected to pick up our friendship where we had left it—or better even taking it a step further and make a dedicated move on Jennie. Now, she can’t even face me?
How did I get from best friend to damaged goods without any forewarning?