Chapter 24
chapter twenty-four
Silver barely looked up from the pint she was pouring. She clocked the girl the second she walked in—hovering near the door too long, pretending to read the tap list, sneaking glances at the bar like she was working up the nerve to approach.
And now, here she was, elbows perched on the counter, chin resting on her knuckles, eyes tracing the length of Silver’s tattooed arm as she worked the tap.
“Do you have anything besides beer?”
Silver let the question hang for a second, finally flicking her gaze up. The girl had that nervous energy, a little too eager, the kind of person who over-explained themselves when flustered.
“Yeah,” Silver said, slow and dry. “We’ve got beer.”
The girl straightened. “Oh! Um.” Her fingers drummed against the counter. “I guess I’ll have a beer then?”
Silver arched an eyebrow. “Good choice.”
She didn’t bother asking what kind. That would only lead to a painful back-and-forth about what “malty” meant, so she poured a pint of the most basic beer on the list—Christine’s obnoxiously popular pumpkin lager, brewed for people who considered plaid a personality.
She slid the pint across the bar, tapping her fingers on the wood. “Twelve credits.”
The girl scanned her wrist to pay and took a sip. She immediately lit up, and her eyes widened like Silver just performed a magic trick. “Oh my gosh, this tastes like…like—” She snapped her fingers, searching for the words. “Pumpkin spice!”
Silver’s lips curled, slow and knowing. “Wow, are you a cicerone?”
“Um, no, I think I’m Eastern European?” The girl smiled—bright and breathless—and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m Zoe, by the way.”
Silver just hummed, already turning back to the taps.
The girl giggled, a little too pleased with herself, and Silver took a moment to look at her.
She had had that effortless beachy-indie thing going on.
The kind of artsy, free-spirited type Christine used to trip over herself for.
Not exactly Silver’s usual, but it had been a while, and she wasn’t above a change in scenery.
“So, what’s your name again?”
“Zoe,” she said, flashing another bright smile.
“Where are you headed?” Silver leaned an elbow on the bar, already laying the groundwork. “You know there’s a storm out there, right?”
“No plans,” Zoe said with an easy shrug. “Figured I’d venture out, see if anyone could help me warm up.” Her eyes lingered on Silver, all faux innocence and a not-so-subtle invitation. “Any chance you’d want to volunteer?”
Silver was about to take her up on the offer when the door swung open.
And suddenly, nothing else existed.
Her.
Silver straightened before she could think better of it. Oakland stepped inside, cheeks flushed from the cold, dark hair slightly windblown, looking stunning and wrecked.
Silver didn’t even hesitate. She vaulted over the bar, landing smoothly on the other side, and closed the distance between them.
“Hey, you,” she said, voice low and inviting.
Oakland blinked, surprised, but didn’t move away.
“I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” Silver murmured, fingers brushing the cold fabric of Oakland’s coat as she reached for the zipper, tugging it downward.
Before she could get too far, Oakland caught her wrist, firm but not unkind, and moved it aside.
“It’s nice to see you again, Silver,” she said, unzipping her own coat and casually hanging it on the wooden rack like she didn’t just throw a wrench into Silver’s entire evening. “Is Christine in the back?”
Silver’s stomach dropped.
“How do you know Christine?”
Oakland tilted her head, studying her, then extended a hand like this was some kind of job interview. “I’m Oakland.”
Silver’s brain short-circuited. She could practically hear the error message ringing in her ears.
“You’re…oh.”
She leaned against the barstool, suddenly in dire need of support. After all this time, after all those stories, all the chaos Christine left in her wake because of this woman, Silver never even asked to see a damn photo.
Oakland watched her, patient.
Silver cleared her throat. “Uh… does Christine know that we?—?”
“No,” Oakland cut in, her tone flat, final. She met Silver’s gaze, steady. “It was nothing. Why would she need to know?”
Silver exhaled sharply through her nose, tilting her head. “Yeah? Well, I’m not in the habit of keeping secrets.”
It wasn’t entirely true. Silver had no problem omitting certain details when it suited her, but this? This was messy. And she hated messy.
Before Oakland could respond, an entirely different force of nature made itself known.
“Hello, girls,” Spencer said, inserting herself between the two women and extending a hand, eyes sparkling. “I’m Spencer.”
Oakland hesitated for half a second before shaking it.
“You’re Christine’s sister,” Oakland realized, tilting her head slightly. “I was at your hockey game last weekend.”
Spencer knew exactly who she was and immediately lit up. “Oh my God, Oakland!” Before anyone could react, she grabbed Oakland and lifted her into a bear hug, rocking her slightly.
“Sorry! Oh my gosh,” she corrected mid-squeeze, then pulled back, looking sheepish. “Hope that didn’t, like, offend you or whatever.”
“Oh, please, it’s fine,” Oakland actually laughed, like, full-on chuckled, and Silver found that unreasonably annoying.
Spencer clutched her chest and exhaled like she narrowly avoided a disaster. “Oh, thank God.” She paused, then laughed. “I mean… oh, never mind. Anyway, I cannot believe I’m finally meeting you! Does Christine know you’re here?”
Oakland shook her head. “No, I just kind of… stopped by on a whim.” She glanced around the mostly empty brewery. “Is she here?”
Spencer’s enthusiasm dimmed slightly. “Actually, she’s probably at the?—”
“Oakland?”
Christine’s voice sliced through the room, sharp with surprise.
Silver turned in time to see her standing near the door, Gruit’s leash in one hand, confusion in the other. “What are you doing here?”
Beside her, Silver felt Oakland stiffen. Christine’s gaze flicked between them, her expression shifting as she saw how close they were standing.
Oakland stepped forward, taking Christine’s cold hands. “Do you have a minute?”
Christine blinked, visibly thrown. “…Yeah. Of course.”
Oakland gently tugged Christine away without another word, leading her toward a quieter corner of the brewery. Silver watched as Christine let herself be led, still looking bewildered but not pulling away.
As Christine and Oakland disappeared, Spencer crouched to unclip Gruit’s harness, grinning. “Aren’t you just the cutest little?—”
Gruit, ever the agent of chaos, picked that exact moment to unleash a full-body shake, transforming into a one-dog snow cannon. A spray of icy slush hit Spencer square in the face like he’d been waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Spencer recoiled, hands flying up. “I take back every nice thing I was about to say about you, you frozen sack of betrayal.”
Gruit, utterly unbothered, sat down and began licking his paw like a king who just executed a peasant.
Silver, meanwhile, was too busy watching Christine and Oakland, her jaw tight.
Spencer wiped the snow from her face, then followed Silver’s gaze. She went still for half a second. Then?—
“Oh. Ohhh.”
Silver exhaled through her nose. “What.”
“I overheard what you two were saying. You hooked up with her.” Spencer’s grin spread slow and smug. “Something about that girl has your panties in a bunch.”
Silver scoffed. “I did not hook up with her. It was just a kiss. Way before all this.”
Spencer folded her arms, looking downright gleeful now. “You’re jealous.”
“Of what?”
Spencer gestured toward Christine and Oakland, who were deep in conversation, faces close. “I don’t know, exactly, but I’m pretty sure if you clenched your jaw any harder, your teeth would fall out.”
“You’re overthinking it.” Silver rolled her shoulders back, already turning away. “It’s nothing.”
Spencer just stared at her. “Yeah, and Gruit’s a law-abiding citizen.”
Silver didn’t dignify Spencer with a response. Instead, she turned to Zoe—who was being thoroughly ignored during this mess—and leaned casually against the bar.
“You wanna get out of here, Chloe?”
Zoe blinked but didn’t bother correcting her. “…Yeah. Sure. I’m coming.”
“Not yet, but you will be,” Silver muttered, grabbing her leather jacket.
“Gross,” Spencer scoffed before stepping in close, voice low. “Silv, come on. She’s not even your type.”
“Who’s jealous now?” Silver’s smirk didn’t waver, but something in her eyes flickered. “Maybe I’m branching out.”
Spencer shook her head. “Fine. Do whatever. Just try not to trip over your big fat ego on the way out.”
With that, she turned on her heel and stalked back to her barstool—the one she never should’ve left in the first place.
As Silver stepped outside, she caught Spencer’s reflection in the brewery window, still watching her expectantly, like she knew something Silver didn’t.
Not jealous. Silver reminded herself as she draped an arm over Zoe.
* * *
Christine sat across from Oakland at a small table, her hands wrapped around an untouched beer. She could see Spencer stealing a third pint of beer from the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not right now.
Oakland was here. Finally.
But didn’t look like herself.
“I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you,” Oakland said quietly, eyes locked on her hands. “I picked up my phone so many times, and then just… froze. I didn’t know what to say.”
Christine’s voice came out tighter than she meant it to. “There’s nothing to say. You didn’t want to talk to me. I got the message.”
Oakland looked up fast. “It’s not that I didn’t want to.” Her voice cracked just slightly. “It’s that I didn’t know how.”
Christine didn’t answer. She just waited.
Oakland let out a slow breath and leaned back as if it physically hurt to keep going. “When I’m around you,” she said, “it’s like I’ve been sleepwalking my whole life, and suddenly someone flipped the lights on.”
She looked away, jaw tight. “And I’m not sure I’m ready to see everything.”
That landed harder than Christine wanted it to.
“So what,” she said, quieter now. “You’re saying you care about me but not enough to do anything about it?”
“I’m saying I’m terrified.” Oakland’s voice rose just a bit, frustration bleeding through. “And I’ve been trying so hard to keep it together, but this?” She gestured vaguely between them. “This is not helping.”
Christine’s expression shifted, the words landing heavier than expected. Her stomach twisted, guilt rising like bile.
“Then why are you here?” she asked, quieter now, the question threading between defensiveness and something more raw—like she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
“Because I’m falling for you,” Oakland said, voice tight, raw. “And I don’t want to be. But I am.”
The words hung between them, heavy and fragile.
“You don’t want to be?” Christine asked, though it sounded less like a question and more like a wound.
Oakland shook her head, eyes shining but not crying. “I’ve spent my entire life avoiding risk. Playing it safe. And then you came in and started knocking down all the walls I didn’t even realize I built.”
Christine tilted her head, half-smiling. “So… I’m a homewrecker?”
Oakland gave a breathless, bitter laugh. “You’re a demolition crew.”
That cracked something open in both of them.
Christine leaned in just a bit more. “Then stop pushing me away. Let me in. We can keep going slow.”
Oakland swallowed hard. Her voice dropped. “You don’t understand. Things have changed. Kiley told everyone.”
Christine blinked. “Told them what?”
“That I’m…” Oakland gestured vaguely between them. “…with you. Or not with you. Or thinking about being with you. I don’t know, I didn’t exactly receive a transcript. But they know, and now everyone is watching me.”
Christine’s voice sharpened. “Are they threatening you?”
“Not directly. Yet.” Oakland sighed. “But they don’t need to be obvious. The clinic’s already getting weird calls. People canceling appointments. Asking questions. It’s starting. And they know who you are.”
Christine was quiet for a long beat. Then she said softly, “You think I can’t handle that?”
Oakland looked at her. “I think you shouldn’t have to.”
“Well, maybe I don’t care.”
“You should,” Oakland said, voice harder now. “Because they don’t stop. They don’t just watch. They punish.”
Christine shook her head. “You don’t have to protect me. You just have to tell me if you want this.”
Oakland blinked. Then, she dropped her gaze again.
The silence was full of ache, of maybe, of what-if.
Oakland’s hand instinctively moved toward Christine’s, but she stopped short.
“This platonic-flirty-not-flirty whatever we’re doing?” she said. “It’s not sustainable. Because I want to kiss you every time I look at you.”
Christine’s breath caught.
“I shouldn’t. But I do.”
“Then why don’t you?” Christine whispered.
“I told you before.” Oakland smiled, sad and helpless. “Because if I do… I won’t stop.”
A gust of wind shook the windows, and the snow outside blurred the world into a wall of white.
Oakland looked toward the door. She couldn’t end it with Christine. The thought of it made her chest tighten like her ribs were closing in.
This was a dangerous place for her right now.
“I should go.”
Christine blinked at her. Then looked pointedly at the windows, the storm, the absolute impossibility of leaving.
“In this?” she said, one brow arched. “Unless you’ve got snowshoes and a death wish, you’re staying at mine.”
Oakland hesitated. “I don’t want to make this harder.”
Christine stepped closer, voice soft but steady. “Then stop pretending like leaving would make it easier.”
Oakland’s shoulders sagged under the weight of wanting and not letting herself want.
“Ok, but no funny business,” she said, almost a whisper.
Christine smirked. “You’re the one who said you wouldn’t stop if you kissed me. I’m just offering blankets and bad TV.”
Oakland finally cracked a smile—small, tired, genuine. “Right. Just survival. Platonic survival.”
“Exactly.”
Oakland wasn’t sure what tomorrow would look like. But tonight—this storm, this moment, this impossible girl who kept offering her shelter—it was enough.
?