Sabrina
I took Frankie Dunne’s offered hand. For someone so tiny, she was strong as hell.
“So this is self-care?” I asked.
“For many people, no.” She crossed her arms. “But Nina told me you were the kind of chick who gets it.”
I smirked. “Call me a chick again and I’ll bury an axe in your ass.”
Her grin widened. “That was a test and you passed.” She opened the door and gestured for us to step inside. “Welcome to paradise.”
The old barn smelled like pine needles, wood smoke, and poor decisions. The combination was strangely nostalgic.
“In our family, we don’t light candles and journal,” she joked.
“Yes. We’re more misdemeanors and property damage,” Nina deadpanned.
Another woman emerged as we stepped inside, bundled up in a pink puffy parka and matching knit headband.
“Do you know Stella Stone?” Nina asked.
I nodded politely. Our paths had crossed, and I’d noticed her chatting with Gabe several times, so I’d done a little research.
She was twenty-nine, a first-grade teacher, and sweet in a stereotypical small-town way.
A quick social media search had revealed that the perky blonde with a round baby face volunteered with every organization, committee, and charity in town.
And she seemed like a genuinely good person. We could not be more different.
Stella nodded at me. “You have amazing shoes,” she said, her voice full of melancholy.
“What size do you wear?” I asked.
“Eight and a half, why?”
“You’re welcome to borrow some anytime. I have more than I can realistically wear.”
Her only response was a tight smile.
Okay, then…
“Can I throw now?” She turned and headed for a rack of small, carefully lined up axes.
“Frankie,” Nina chided. “You have to be cold.”
“If my arms looked like that, I’d never wear sleeves either,” Stella said.
I nodded, thinking the same thing. I’d never seen biceps that defined on any person.
The plan to throw axes in a drafty barn still confused me, but I was intrigued, so when Nina invited me, I quickly agreed.
As the other women warmed up and practiced throwing, I stood off to one side, studying their moves.
Stella went first, throwing several times, swearing and stomping a bit between each one.
“Jeez, Stell. You’re usually a lot better,” Nina hissed, taking a big step back. “Who you aiming for today?”
Sniffling, the blonde tucked a lock of wayward hair beneath her headband. “Men. Does it matter which one?” she said. “They all suck.”
Nina raised a brow and padded over to her friend. “Fair.”
“I could put up a photo of Chief Foster,” Frankie said, her eyes flashing with excitement. “I was saving it for after I’d warmed up so I could slice his ears off one at a time, but it looks like you need this more than I do.”
Internally, I chuckled. Frankie Dunne was just as unhinged as everyone in town had suggested.
“I think I love you,” I said.
She bared her teeth at me.
“That’s how she expresses affection,” Nina said without taking her eyes off Stella. “Talk to me, Stella.”
Frankie strode over. “Did you download Tinder again? The only thing you’ll find there are STIs and identity theft. We told you that last time.”
I blinked, taken aback. From my experience, that was largely correct.
With another sniffle, Stella shook her head.
“Okay,” Frankie said in what was probably a gentle tone for her but was still pretty gruff. “I’ll let you throw again if you tell us what happened. And who I’m fighting today.” She cracked her knuckles. “It’s been a while. I’m getting soft.”
“Ignore her,” Nina said. “You don’t owe us anything.”
I took a step back, feeling like I was intruding.
But Stella turned straight to me and pinned me with a look. “You’re one of those women men are afraid of, right? The kind they worship and never fuck around with? How do you do it? Can you teach me?”
I coughed out a laugh. “Me? Oh, sweetheart, no. How do you think I got like this?”
Her eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Oh yes. Guys love the idea of snagging a badass who has her shit together. But once they realize I’m smarter, meaner, and make more money than they do, they talk down to me and treat me like shit.”
The three of them gaped.
“So we’re all fucked?” Stella asked.
“Yes,” I said as Nina said, “No.”
I frowned at her. Huh. I hadn’t figured her for an optimist.
“I bought a case of thin mints off Rosie Becker last week.” Frankie strode for the door. “How about we eat our feelings and then throw axes?”
“I can’t eat cookies,” Stella sobbed, finally breaking down. “That’s the problem. I’m too chubby. That’s why Gabe isn’t interested.”
My breath hitched. Gabe? My Gabe?
No not mine in any sense of the word.
Mayor Gabe. The Gabe I knew.
Frankie and Nina both turned to her slowly, their eyes wide with shock.
“Stella,” Frankie finally said. “If that pathetic excuse for a Y chromosome made a comment about your body—”
“Of course he didn’t,” she said, her eyes misty. “He would never. He’s the nicest guy ever.”
Frankie snorted. “He’s nowhere close to that if he said you’re anything other than a goddess.”
Stella shook her head. “He didn’t. He just looked me in the eye and said that he’s not interested. That it’s not going to happen.”
Nina and Frankie exchanged pained glances, then looked at their friend.
“He finally said it?” Nina asked.
“It was actually very kind,” Stella muttered, her head down. “He told me he’d been selfish and a coward. That he shouldn’t have led me on for so long.”
“Wow.”
“And I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at me,” she clarified.
“How did I let myself crush on a guy for a decade and not realize there was no chance.? I just kept thinking that one day he’d realize that I’m standing right here.
That if I was helpful and kind and showed up to every boring town meeting with cookies, he’d notice me.
” She huffed an exasperated breath and zeroed in on me.
“Cookies. Pathetic, right?” Before I could even consider how to respond, she said, “Can I throw another axe now?”
Frankie took one off the rack and handed it to her, then we all took a step back.
She approached the line, rolled her shoulders, and raised the tool over her head with both hands. With a grunt, she put all her weight into throwing it. It hit the wood with a thud. Not a bull’s-eye, but at least on target.
Nina cheered. “Feel better?”
A hint of a smile played on her lips. “A little.”
“Then you better do it again.”
My mind spun as I worked to process this new information. Did the two of them have a history? From the very few details I had, it sounded more like a one-sided thing. I vacillated between wanting every detail and having empathy for this sweet girl.
It was so unlike Gabe to say anything that could hurt someone. He’d tie himself up in knots to avoid the discomfort. Unless he was talking to me, of course.
And while I barely knew Stella, I had researched her, and she seemed perfect for him. A small-town sweetheart who looked at him with hearts in her eyes. The type of woman he’d wife up as soon as possible.
While Nina and Stella threw axes and laughed, Frankie nudged me toward the lane next to them. Same wall, different target. This one about ten feet away.
“Okay, DC Fixer.” She glared at me. “Show us what you’ve got.”
I couldn’t help but study her. Like Nina, she was petite, with deep set eyes and sharp cheekbones. But that’s where the similarities ended. Frankie wore work clothes, rocked a spiky short haircut, and radiated aggression, where Nina was so aloof.
She handed me an axe, her eyebrows raised. “Have you thrown before?”
“Sort of,” I answered, assessing the weight of the tool in my hand.
Standing at the line, I eyed the target. It felt impossibly far away, but I wouldn’t know if I could do it unless I tried. With two hands, I raised the axe above my head like Stella had. Then I stepped forward and threw.
The long handle spun and thunked against the wooden wall, then the tool clattered to the floor.
“Not bad,” she said. “You’re releasing too late, but your throwing mechanics are decent. I can work with this.”
My next one fell off to the side of the target, but the blade hit the wood that time.
Despite my best efforts to focus on the task at hand, my thoughts kept circling back to Gabe. What had prompted him to shut her down? Why had he broken this poor girl’s heart? And furthermore, why did I care?
“My sister told me about you,” Frankie said, interrupting my spiraling. “How you’re looking into Caleb’s arrest.”
I nodded, half my mind focused on trying to figure out how to throw both harder and more accurately.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “We need all the help we can get. And I appreciate people who distrust the leadership of this town.”
“I distrust all leadership,” I corrected. “Especially the men.”
She chuckled darkly. “I knew I liked you. Let me show you a few tricks.” She nodded at the target.
Standing back, I watched her throw several times. When it was my turn again, I changed my grip and took a bigger step forward. This time I released a second before my instinct told me to.
And it hit. Dead center.
“That was gorgeous,” Frankie whispered, like she was awestruck. “And aggressive.”
“I find clarity in precision,” I said, admiring my bull’s-eye. “And while I can’t make any promises, if I can help your brother, I will.”
Frankie jogged over to retrieve our axes from the target. “And if I can help you do whatever it is you’re plotting, I will.”
I threw again, reveling in the satisfaction of the blade hitting the wood. This was fun. “Marigold would love this,” I said.
“I invited her,” Nina said from her spot. “She’s in New York again. Goes every month or so to visit her granddaughter.”
We took a break then, and Frankie offered us bottles of water from a small cooler.
“Can’t we just get drunk?” Stella asked as she took one.
Frankie glared at her. “No.”
The blonde tipped her head back and stomped. “Why?”
“Because drinking is terrible for you,” Nina told her. “And this will actually make you feel better.”
“Sorry, sweetie,” Frankie said, throwing an arm around Stella.