5. Julian
JULIAN
“So, are you going to tell me what really brought you to Lawson Ridge?”
I am prepared for this question. In a new town, it’s expected. Ellie isn’t like others. She isn’t judgemental. Although, by the looks of her, she doesn’t have a wild side. “I needed a fresh start. Somewhere quiet, where I could just... be.”
“What are you running from?”
My fingers tap against the water glass. “Maybe not running from, but... trying to outgrow something.”
She doesn’t press. Instead, she nods and takes another sip of her coffee. People are staring in our direction.
“Fair enough,” she says finally. “We’ve all got our stories.”
Her acceptance makes me wonder if she has her own past tucked away. Something about the way she carries herself—shoulders straight but not rigid, eyes that see more than she lets on.
I follow her gaze. From our booth, I can see most of the town center—the hardware store, the library with its faded brick, the park where earlier I’d watched children climb on equipment that looked unchanged since the eighties.
“I can see the appeal of small towns,” I say, and I’m surprised to find I mean it. After the chaos of the last year, the predictability feels like a gift.
“Lawson Ridge has a way of collecting people,” she finally says. “Most folks here have a story they don’t tell right away.”
For the first time in months, I feel something loosen in my chest. Not healing, not yet, but the possibility of it.
“Including you?” I venture, watching her carefully.
Ellie’s smile turns enigmatic. She fiddles with her napkin, folding it into smaller and smaller triangles. “Maybe especially me.”
Before I can respond, the bell above the diner door jingles. Ellie’s eyes flick up, and something in her expression shifts—a tightening around the mouth, a wariness that wasn’t there before.
“Evening, Chief,” calls the waitress from behind the counter.
I turn to see a tall man in a police uniform scanning the room. His gaze lands on our booth, and he nods slightly. Not at me, but at Ellie.
“Friend of yours?” I ask.
“Miles Garrett. Town police chief.” She takes another sip of coffee, but I notice her knuckles have whitened around the mug. “And my ex-husband.”
That explains the tension. The chief makes his way to the counter, but his presence seems to fill the diner.
“Complicated?” I ask.
“Isn’t it always?” She sets her mug down with deliberate care. “Small town. Can’t avoid your ghosts when they patrol the streets.”
I know something about ghosts. Mine are just far away—for now.
“How long were you married?”
“Eight years. Divorced for three.” She glances at her watch. “Listen, I should probably get going. Early shift tomorrow.”
I sense there’s more to it than that, but I’ve just met her. No right to pry. “Let me get the check and we’ll go home.”
“I’m gonna run to the restroom real quick.”
As she turns to leave, Miles steps away from the counter. They pass each other in the narrow aisle, but no words are spoken. Ellie disappears, and he’s watching me. He doesn’t approach, just nods once returning to his conversation with the waitress.
I try not to stare, but there’s something in his posture that draws attention—authority wrapped in casual confidence. The waitress laughs at something he says, her hand briefly touching his arm. Small town dynamics on full display.
When Ellie returns, her face is composed, but I notice she’s reapplied her lipstick. A small armor.
“Ready?” she asks, not looking toward the counter.
Outside, the evening air has cooled. Main Street is quiet now, most businesses closed except the diner and a bar down the block where neon beer signs glow in the window.
“Thanks for coming to dinner.”
“Of course. Though I should warn you being the chief’s ex-wife comes with its own special category of town gossip.”
“I’m not big on gossip anyway.”
She smiles, more genuine this time. “Well, then we’ll get along just fine.”
I open my truck door for her and let her slide in before closing it to take us home. Maybe it is fate that she is my neighbor. Is she supposed to be part of my fresh start in this small town?
As I pull out of the diner’s parking lot, Ellie gazes out the passenger window. I notice she’s fidgeting with her watch again, turning the face around her wrist.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just...” She sighs. “Miles—the chief—he’ll probably drive by my place tonight. He does that sometimes after we run into each other.”
“Is that a problem? Should I be concerned?”
“No, nothing like that.” She shakes her head quickly. “He’s not dangerous. Just... protective. Or controlling, depending on how charitable I’m feeling that day.”
I pull into my driveway and kill the engine.
“Thanks for the ride,” she says, hand on the door handle. “And for listening. I don’t usually dump ex-husband drama on people I’ve just met.”
As she steps out, a patrol car rolls slowly down our street, headlights cutting through the darkness. Ellie stiffens but raises her hand in a casual wave. The car slows but doesn’t stop, continuing past our houses before turning at the end of the block.
“Right on schedule,” she murmurs, then turns back to me with a forced brightness. “I’d invite you in for something to drink, but he might get the wrong idea.”
Maybe I’m reading this wrong entirely. She isn’t into me. This wasn’t a date.
“Good night, Ellie.”