To Build a Home (Tilley’s Bar #2)

Chapter 1

Payton

S ingers and songwriters have made millions of dollars writing and performing songs about coming home.

The sense of familiarity, comfort, and grace that four walls and a roof can provide.

I wish I could channel some of those feelings because as I put my vehicle in park out front of my parents’ house, all I feel is emptiness.

If the place I grew up in can’t put me back together, then what can?

Memories play in my mind like a movie as I stare at the front steps.

The same steps that I once posed on for prom photos—smiling with not a care in the world—and danced down as I packed up this same car for college.

The same steps I would sit on every night and wait for my dad to pull his vehicle into the driveway after a long shift.

And even after he passed away, I would sit for hours, waiting for his car to appear, knowing it never would.

The girl who once believed in happily ever afters and that love could conquer all is long gone. She was too na?ve and blinded by the sham of love that she couldn’t see what was right in front of her.

The only good thing to come from my mistakes is the sleeping angel in the back seat. It’s a miracle Gabby slept the entire drive from Eastway to here. Unfortunately, without her sweet coos and sounds, I’ve had plenty of time to drown deep in my thoughts.

How did we get here?

No, I don’t mean taking the interstate to exit 17 to back roads through town.

At twenty-two , I thought I would interview for teaching jobs, setting up my cute little classroom or maybe even going after my master’s in early education, not divorced, a single mom, and a few credits shy of graduating college.

And I definitely didn’t think I would move back into my childhood bedroom.

I thought once I left, that was it. I’d only be back for visits, holidays, or dropping my kids off for sleepovers at Grammy’s while I spent one-on-one time with my husband.

The word “husband” now leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Just the thought of Joel has me gripping the steering wheel so tightly I wonder if I’m leaving nail imprints in the leather.

Before I can let my thoughts consume me once again, the front door swings open, and my mother rushes out of the house.

“Fuck,” I exhale. “Here we go, baby girl.”

I unbuckle my seat belt and get out of my car as Mom waves her hands in the air in excitement. It’s like her name was just called to be the next contestant on The Price is Right .

“You’re finally here,” she shrieks.

Mom yanks me forward with such a force I yelp a loud “oof” as her arms wrap around me. At first, my body is stiff as hell, but it’s not long before I sink into the embrace. I miss the days when there wasn’t anything a hug from my mom couldn’t fix.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Mom reassures me while rubbing small circles on my back.

I bite my lip to keep from replying with my honest thoughts. Will it be? How?

Mom’s grip loosens, and suddenly, I’m shoved to the side. For a tiny woman, Connie Mosby is feisty as hell. Probably why my dad called her his Mighty Mouse.

“Now, give me my granddaughter.”

I laugh, rubbing my arm as she opens the back seat and carefully retrieves my daughter’s carrier. Mom dotes over her only grandchild, talking to her in a sweet, baby voice.

“Guess I’m chopped liver,” I call out as Mom walks toward the house, completely ignoring me. A heavy sigh escapes my lips. “It’s cool, I got this.” Great, now I’m talking to myself since Mom has already disappeared inside.

Welcome home, Payton.

As I’m shutting the door that my mom left open, a familiar black jeep whips by and pulls into the driveway. Perfect fucking timing.

My older brother Ollie hops out and rushes around to help his wife, Hollie, out of the passenger side. It’s still crazy to see my brother so love-drunk. After the door shuts, Hollie giggles.

“Ollie, stop it. We’re out in public.”

I can’t hear my brother’s response, which is probably a good thing and not meant for little sister’s ears. When she giggles again, my smile falls, and I decide it’s best to focus on anything besides the happy couple.

It’s not that I’m not happy about my brother and his new bride. Honestly, I truly am, and I love my new sister-in-law—I have since the moment we met. But seeing them happy just makes my stomach twist. I hate feeling this bitter.

Do I mourn Joel Taylor? Hell no. Should I mourn the time wasted?

Maybe. But what has me so upset is how can I not mourn the life I thought I was going to live, and how can I not mourn that my daughter will grow up in a broken home?

That she will grow up not knowing the unconditional love between a father and his daughter.

That’s what breaks my heart the most out of all of this.

Not the lies and bullshit that man fed me for years. That’s nothing in comparison.

Giving them a moment of privacy, I reach into the center cup holder and grab the keys for the trailer I hauled with our belongings.

There’s not much. Basically, everything I had taken with me to college and, of course, all of Gabby’s things.

Joel’s and my divorce may have been the quickest divorce in the history of divorces .

I just wanted it over. I didn’t want his money or his things—just mine and Gabby’s.

Thank God we don’t live in a state that requires a yearlong separation before divorce.

I could spend hours on the what-ifs—had anything we had together been real?

Was it all an act? Was he like that with her ?

When he was with me, was he always thinking of her ?

How could I have been so blind? If I allowed it, I could let the thoughts eat me alive, but I can’t—I have to be strong, for my daughter’s sake.

“Hey, sis,” Ollie shouts, breaking me from the depths of my mind. He releases Hollie’s hand and pulls me into a side hug.

When I notice Hollie staring at the empty back seat, I know what, or more so who, she’s looking for.

“Mom already snagged her,” I laugh.

Hollie’s smile falls, which only makes Ollie and me laugh more.

“Oh, go on.” I wave her off, and Hollie takes off toward the front door.

She stops dramatically and spins before running back in our direction and swooping me into a big hug.

“Sorry, how rude of me. Welcome home. We’ll talk later.

” It all comes out so fast, I’m not even sure she breathes between sentences.

I don’t even have time to reply before she’s running into the house. Of course, not without tripping up the stairs and shouting, “I’m okay.”

It’s funny that she thinks Mom will give up her baby snuggles.

“Will you put a baby in her already?” I tease and toss Ollie the keys before following him around to the back of the trailer.

“Trust me, I’m working on it.” His response may have been normal for a newlywed, but then he had to take it a step too far and wink. Typical Oliver Mosby.

Ugh, gross.

“So how are you doing, really?” he asks as he undoes the lock and opens the doors.

I debate on how to answer him. The thing is, I know that if I give him a bullshit answer, he will see right through it and call me out. I’d expect nothing less, especially since I did the same thing to him when everything went down with Hollie. His stern expression seals the deal for me.

“How am I doing?” I repeat and let out a harsh sigh.

“Peachy. Why shouldn’t I be after learning that my husband never actually stopped fucking his ex-girlfriend, including on our wedding night in the bathroom of the small reception held after our ceremony?

” Ollie’s jaw is so tight I worry he might break a tooth or two.

“Oh, and I’m jobless and moving back home to share my tiny-ass room with my three-month-old daughter. Like I said, peachy.”

I guess it could’ve been worse. Funny, right?

I thought I loved Joel. We were young and reckless.

But it was all a ruse, I guess. Turns out I wasn’t the only girl he was seeing.

His on-again, off-again girlfriend since high school, Adrienne, attended college with us.

I was so dumb to think that they were only “just friends” as he constantly reassured me.

One positive pregnancy test, and Joel’s parents were forcing us into a marriage because of their old-school values.

Joke’s on me because even as we said our vows of forever, he was still fucking her.

I should have known something was going on when she was in attendance at our small and intimate wedding.

I found them in bed— our bed , in our house—when I came home early from Ollie and Hollie’s wedding. Joel had claimed he couldn’t attend last minute because of work conflicts, however, his real reason was just fucking someone who wasn’t his wife.

How could it have been possibly worse than that?

Well, one of the many what-ifs that has plagued my mind is what if I hadn’t started feeling bad at the reception and gone home early to discover them?

Instead of starting over, I could still be living a lie.

So, I have to find positivity in that, no matter how fucked-up that thinking may be.

As I slide my suitcase out of the trailer, Ollie stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m still willing to make him disappear. You know I know a guy.”

I laugh awkwardly, not knowing whether that’s true.

Lord knows who he’s met over the years as a bartender.

But no matter how much I’d love to meet Keith Morrison and Josh Mankiewicz, I don’t really want it to be because they interview me on my family’s own episode of Dateline .

Well, at least, they couldn’t say Joel lit up a room.

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I got the best thing out of this mess, at least—Gabby.”

“No truer words spoken, sis.” Ollie grabs a box and hauls it over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing. Show-off.

We walk side by side toward the house. “And hey, Archer and I spoke, and you’ve got a job at Tilley’s, okay?

Set your own hours, pay and tips are decent.

Not to mention, the bosses are pretty awesome.

And before you say anything about Gabby, we also already talked to Mom, who said she would watch Gabby for you. ”

Of course, they thought of everything so that I couldn’t refuse.

My brothers own a bar/restaurant in town called Tilley’s.

Our oldest brother, Archer, signed the paperwork the same day as his divorce papers and made it a family affair.

While Archer runs the back of the house, Ollie runs the front of the house and is one of two bartenders.

It was actually at Tilley’s that Ollie had met his wife, but that’s a whole different story.

“Not to mention, we have the best chef in town,” he adds.

My heart stops momentarily. Rhyland Cole— the head chef at Tilley’s, Ollie’s best friend, an honorary Mosby, and the starring role of my childhood and teenage dreams.

Cliché? Sure. But that boy, now a man, is gorgeous. His dark hair and contrasting bright emerald-green eyes have captivated me for as long as I can remember. But to him, I’ll always just be his best friend’s little sister.

I gave up on the idea that Rhyland would one day notice me long ago. Had Rhy finally seen me as something more, maybe I could’ve saved myself from this heartbreak. There I go again down that rabbit hole. But then I remember I wouldn’t have Gabby. It always comes down to her.

Could I really work that closely with him and not sink further into my pity party? It’s not like that crush will just resurface, especially when I’m the conductor of the hot mess express.

I follow Ollie into my old room and cringe that it looks exactly the same as when I left for college.

He drops the box down on the floor. “Seriously, Pay, it’s going to be okay. We’ll get you back on your feet and out of here before you know it. As Dad would say, ‘This too shall pass.”

Tears fill my eyes, and Ollie pulls me into a bear hug.

“Come on, please don’t cry. You know I can’t handle tears. Don’t be stubborn, and let us help you.”

I nod, no words finding my mouth. “Thank you,” I eventually whisper.

Ollie kisses the top of my head. “Come on by the bar, and we’ll get you all set up.”

Stepping out of his embrace, I use the edge of my sleeve to wipe under my eyes.

“Now, come on. Your shit’s not gonna move itself, and,” he smirks, “if we get it done before Archer arrives, we have something to hang over his head.”

My brother slings his arm over my shoulders and leads me out the door. I glance over my shoulder at my childhood bedroom one last time and let out a deep exhale.

Maybe this will all be okay—it has to be because it’s not just me I have to think about. I’ll do anything to provide for my daughter and give her the life she deserves.