Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Garrett stood near the bar, scanning the taproom with a measured gaze even as laughter and the clink of glasses filled the air. It was just staff, friends, and family in attendance. A soft launch to work out the kinks before the real opening. The safe night.
And still, his shirt collar felt too tight.
He shifted his weight, arms crossed, watching Ryker move behind the bar like a pro. No stress. No hesitation. The team had it under control.
He knew this drill. This wasn’t his first opening. But this was different. This was home.
Deer Creek Falls wasn’t just another location. These people knew his parents, his high school GPA, the time he cracked his head falling off a boat dock.
He felt it in the tight pull across his shoulders. The way he kept mentally checking the draft lines even though they’d pressure-tested them twice. And he’d told Madison he wasn’t nervous.
“Take that look off your face before your eyebrows get stuck that way.”
Garrett glanced over at Roman by his side, holding a pint in one hand and wearing that maddening ex-goalie grin that said he noticed everything.
“I’m not worried,” Garrett muttered, trying to convince himself.
Roman sipped. “You’re nervous.”
Garrett exhaled. “I’m . . . monitoring.”
“Uh-huh. Well, while you monitor, Ryker just shooed two barbacks out of your path and told me—direct quote—‘If he checks that tap system one more time, I’m cutting him off.’ ”
Garrett snorted. “He wouldn’t.”
Roman arched a brow. “He would. And he should. Go mingle. You’ve got a full staff, a solid system, and a town full of people rooting for this place to succeed.”
Garrett let his gaze drift across the room.
Paige and Ethan laughed with Maverick Monroe.
Maggie snapped photos of the chalkboard wall and casual shots of people enjoying themselves.
Chloe talked animatedly with Alexis, Zeke, and Owen, Maggie’s husband, all with flights in front of them. The place was warm, humming, and alive.
And across the room, near the back hallway, Madison stood talking to one of the barbacks, her hair tucked behind one ear, one hand resting casually on her hip. She wasn’t doing anything in particular, but somehow, she still pulled his focus like gravity.
Roman followed his gaze. “So,” he said lightly, “how was that little skate-dance number the other night?”
Garrett’s attention snapped back to Roman. “What?”
“You and Madison. On the ice. Looked pretty cozy.”
“How—” Garrett cut himself off. “You weren’t there.”
Roman smirked. “Ran back for one of the girls’ water bottles. Figured I’d grab it and get out quick. But then I saw you two out there. Center ice. Music playing. Looked like a damn prom scene,” he said with a laugh.
Garrett shifted, jaw ticking. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh no?” Roman said, sipping his beer. “Because from my angle, it sure looked like something.”
Garrett didn’t answer right away. Because it had felt like something. Something he didn’t have words for.
“I didn’t plan it,” he muttered.
Roman slapped him on the back. “You think moments like that can be planned?”
Garrett glanced at Madison just as she laughed at something—head tilted, eyes bright, completely at ease in this space.
He cleared his throat. “You tell anyone?”
Roman held up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout.”
“Exactly.”
Garrett shook his head, turning toward the bar to find something to do. Something to keep his hands busy.
Roman let him go but called after him, casual as ever, “For what it’s worth? It’s not a bad look on you.”
Garrett didn’t respond. He kept walking, heart knocking a little harder in his chest than he cared to admit.
The lake was still, but not silent. Crickets chirped in steady rhythm, and the occasional soft splash of water lapped at the shore.
Madison sat in her Adirondack chair, a blanket draped across her lap, eyes closed as the night cooled around her.
The July humidity was finally breaking. The buzz of the soft opening had worn off hours ago, but her mind hadn’t quite shut down.
She’d changed into yoga pants and a lightweight long-sleeved tee, tossed her hair up, poured herself a glass of water, and padded barefoot out onto the cement patio.
And now she sat there, trying not to replay every moment of the evening like a mission debrief.
A door creaked to her left. She didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t need to.
The distinct sound of Garrett’s sigh gave him away.
He dropped into his own Adirondack chair just across the small patch of sand, not more than ten feet away. Another exhale. A rustle of fabric. Then stillness.
She cracked one eye open and glanced his way.
He’d leaned back, arms resting on the armrests, eyes closed like hers had been.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Madison broke the silence, voice soft. “You know it went well, right?”
Garrett didn’t move. “Hmm?”
“The soft opening,” she said. “It was a success.”
His eyes opened, just a little. “You think so?”
“I know so. The place was packed. Ryker kept things moving behind the bar. Your family and friends didn’t stop smiling. A couple minor hiccups, sure, but nothing you can’t iron out in the next forty-eight hours.”
Garrett was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. “Yeah. I guess it felt right once I stopped hovering like a maniac.”
She grinned, eyes still half closed. “You did have strong hovering energy.”
“I had controlled observational presence.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Another beat of silence.
Then Madison asked, “You planning to feed people more than just pretzels? Or is that a phase-two reveal?”
“Eventually.” He chuckled, low and warm. “Mario’s been toying with the idea of making those little personal pizzas. He thinks he can set up something with the small oven we installed. But he hasn’t committed.”
“No food trucks?” she asked, lifting her cup to her lips.
“Thinking about it. They’re easier to rotate in and out, but they’re harder to find here. It’s not like the cities, where they’re a dime a dozen. But the end goal’s bigger.”
She turned to look at him now. He was staring out at the water, jaw relaxed, expression open but unreadable.
“I bought the old armory for a reason,” he said after a second. “Big space. High ceilings. Needs work, but it’s got potential. If the brewery really lands, I’m hoping to remodel and lease out the rest of the building. Best case, we get a full-time restaurant in. Something small but solid.”
“Like what you and Mason did in Minneapolis.”
Garrett nodded. “Same blueprint. Just . . . here.”
Madison pulled the blanket tighter. “It felt different tonight.”
He looked over. “Different how?”
“I don’t know. More yours, maybe. More rooted.” She hesitated. “I saw it in your face tonight. When people talked to you, when they looked around. It meant something.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his eyes drift back over the lake, the moonlight rippling across its surface in soft silver waves.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “It did.”
The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was companionable. Natural.
Madison let her gaze drift over the water. The moonlight shimmered across the lake.
“It’s nice here,” she murmured.
Garrett looked over. “The lake?”
She nodded. “The stillness. The space to breathe.”
He was quiet for a beat. Then said, “It suits you.”
She turned her head, surprised by the softness in his voice.
Their eyes met in the low light, and for a moment, the silence between them felt charged again—not with tension, but with something steadier.
She offered a small, almost wistful smile. “You’re full of surprises tonight.”
He exhaled, standing slowly from his chair. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to protect.”
She laughed under her breath, and he paused at the edge of his patio, hand on the doorframe.
“Good night, Madison.”
The way he said her name—low, deliberate, almost like it meant more than he was ready to admit—sent a soft hum through her chest.
She looked over her shoulder. “Good night, Garrett.”
He hesitated a second longer. Then nodded once and stepped inside, the door clicking quietly shut behind him.
Madison stared at the lake for a few more minutes, the echo of his voice still lingering.
And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel restless.