Chapter 6
six
GAGE
Three days later, and while I now know why Ava was at the courthouse—small town living has its perks—I can’t stop thinking about her or that look in her eyes. I haven’t seen her, but I’ve thought about her almost constantly.
It’s new for me, thinking about someone as much as I’ve thought about her. I’ve been turned down before—not that Ava actually turned me down—but I’ve never cared about it. Many would say I didn’t care enough with how quickly I moved on from rejection in the past.
The way I see it, love doesn’t exist. Infatuation? Lust? Like? Absolutely. But romantic love? I just don’t see it. So why waste time thinking about someone who doesn’t want to be with you?
I can admit my perception might be warped from seeing my parents in and out of numerous relationships with people they always claimed to love. But if love was real, wouldn’t at least one of those relationships have lasted? Wouldn’t those people have stuck around? I sometimes question whether any kind of love exists.
I do love my parents and my siblings—more than life. And in the past I would have probably said I loved my unit when I was in the army. But you go out of your way to stay in the lives of the people you love. It hurt to be so far away from my unit when I first got home, but if I'm honest with myself, that pain wore off quickly.
On the other hand, while I loved being in the army and serving my country, it physically pained me to be so far from my family and to have such little contact with them. I was in the army for twelve years and I never got used to being away from my family.
I think that's what love is—when it hurts to go long periods without interacting in some capacity with those you love.
Each time my parents remarried, their spouses claimed to love me. But when their marriage ended, they'd be gone, never to see me again. That is, of course, unless they had kids. Then, I would see them when they came to pick up my half-siblings for holidays and special occasions. But I was rarely acknowledged—barely a blip on their radar.
I know I’m in the minority when it comes to my beliefs about love, but I’ve never seen it in real life—not up close. And it’s hard to believe in something you can’t see or feel. Outside of my parents and siblings, I can’t say that I’ve ever felt love—definitely not lasting love.
I tried the serious relationship thing in high school but never felt anything deep for the girls I dated. And once I joined the army, getting into a serious relationship never felt right when I didn’t know exactly when I would be home. Casual has been the way for me since I was eighteen, and it works. I don’t have to worry about putting my heart on the line—the way I’ve seen both of my parents do multiple times—and I don’t have to worry about hurting anyone else or myself.
And yet, even knowing all this, I still can’t figure out why Ava is constantly in my thoughts. Maybe one could argue it’s the chase, but I’ve never been one to chase a woman. I lean more toward the belief that Ava’s a mystery I can’t help but want to solve. I need to know what caused that haunted look, that stiff posture, the look of always being prepared for battle.
I wonder if Declan’s noticed it, and if so, what he’s doing to help her.
I met Declan a little more than two years ago, shortly after I graduated from the police academy. I happened to be at the bar, Murphy’s, with my dad when I overheard Declan talking to Caleb Marks about one of his students.
Declan was worried his student might be in an unsafe environment at home and didn’t know what to do. I’d jumped in to ask a few questions and determined—while it was a shitty situation—legally, there wasn’t anything he could do. Though we all agreed to keep a close eye on the kid, none of us liked that we couldn’t help him. But we could always make sure he knew there were people in his corner if he needed them.
Declan’s a good man; one you want in your corner. I can’t imagine—if he knew what was going on with Ava—that he’s just letting it go. But, then again, maybe he isn't seeing what I do when he looks at her. Sometimes, being so close to a person keeps you from seeing the trouble lingering inside.
My phone rings, bringing me back to the present. I glance quickly at the screen to see who it is before answering. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, son. What are you up to? You’re off today, right?” My father’s smooth voice comes across the line.
“Yeah, I’m walking into Murphy’s now to grab a quick bite.”
“Mind if I join you? Leo’s with his mom this week, and you know Asher’s back at school.”
I smile but try to swallow back the amusement in my voice. “Still can’t get used to the empty house, huh?”
“I’ve never been good at being alone, you know that.”
“Yeah, Dad, I know.” There’s a certain level of resignation in my voice, I know it, but his inability to be by himself is a major reason for his three marriages. “Of course, you can join me. Are you still at Harvest Hills?”
Harvest Hills is the pick-your-own farm Dad started managing after he and Mom divorced—when they decided it would be better if they didn’t work together to co-parent me successfully. It's on the opposite side of town from Mom's farm and isn't far from Murphy's. But if he’s still there now, it means he’ll be there a bit longer before he’ll meet me.
Dad doesn’t know how to be alone, which means he finds anything to keep himself busy, including working ridiculous hours. I have no doubt he was at the ranch by six this morning.
“Yeah, and I need to finish up a few things. I’ll probably be here another thirty minutes.”
I glance at my watch and see it’s just after six. “I’m about to walk in now, but I can grab a drink and hang out. Take your time. I’ll be here.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can. Love you, son.”
Knowing my dad, I still have at least an hour to kill before he shows up. Dad has never been good at stopping mid-task, and I have no doubt he’s in the middle of something now. “Love you, too. See you in a bit.”
Murphy’s, the local—and only—bar in town, is owned by Walter Murphy, the father of an old friend and a man who takes great pride in the business his father started back in 1965. Murphy’s has the feel of an old-school Irish pub mixed with the warmth of being home. Whenever I walk through the doors and see Walt standing behind the bar, I know I made the right decision to come here instead of going to The Diner for dinner.
“Gage! Good to see you, kid.” Walt smiles as I take a seat at the bar.
I can’t help but return the smile. “Hey, Walt, how’re you doing?”
“I’m all right. Spoke to Jude today, you know that always brightens my day.”
“He’s doing good?” Even though Jude is two years older than me, our dads were close friends, making it so Jude and I grew up together, becoming close friends ourselves. But shortly after graduation, Jude left town and hasn’t returned since, not even for a quick visit.
I know it hurts Walt not having his son close by, but Walt seems to understand why Jude stays away, even though no one else does. Jude's absence is the town's biggest kept secret. Absolutely no one knows why he left.
When Jude left, he cut ties with everyone but his dad. I know from talking to Walt that Jude made sure to call at least every other day, if not more often. And I know from Walt that Jude has spent the last sixteen years traveling. He says Jude is happy, and even though they talk often, finding time to see each other in person is hard. With Jude not willing to return to Ashford Falls and Walt being stubborn and unwilling to leave Murphy’s for long periods, Walt always has to wait for the wind to bring Jude closer to Maryland before they can actually visit each other. I think it’s been about five years since Walt has actually laid eyes on his son, and that time is starting to wear on him. He doesn’t carry himself with the same carefree manner he used to.
“Yeah. He should be in DC in the next few months, so I should be able to get down to see him soon. Maybe in time for Christmas.”
“That’s great, Walt.” I offer him a small smile. I’m genuinely happy for him, but I also feel for him.
Walt looks more haggard every time I see him. The dark circles under his eyes are growing, he’s losing weight, and the wrinkles on his face are getting deeper and more pronounced. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I can’t imagine it’s only the stress of owning a business.
Walt has been running Murphy’s on his own for almost twenty years—ever since Walter’s father gave it to him when he retired. The stress of running his own business isn’t new to Walt. Murphy’s is also a well-established bar in a small town—it practically runs itself at this point.
There’s something else going on, and I just wish I knew what it was. I’ve asked Walt, and he continues to tell me nothing is wrong, which I’m sure is what he’s telling Jude, too. If I could contact Jude and tell him about my concerns, I would, but when Jude cut everyone out, he made it very hard for anyone to find him.
“Oh, stop looking at me like that. You and your father worry too much. I’m fine.” Walt turns to walk away before I can respond. Which is probably a good thing, because I have no idea how to respond.
Before I can simmer on those thoughts much longer, a cool breeze blows in from the open door. I turn to see who's holding the door open long enough for the air to reach me in the middle of the bar, and there stands Ava. It seems fitting that the only person who can take my mind off the worry I’m feeling for Walt is standing in the open doorway of Murphy's.
I fight the urge to get up and greet her. Instead I stay where I am and watch as she studies her surroundings, clearly deciding if this is where she wants to stay. I would have thought Declan would be with her, but as she continues standing there, the door still held open, it’s obvious he isn’t.
“Can I help you, miss?” Walt asks, standing at the end of the bar closest to the door. “You’re letting in the chilly November air.” His voice is kind as he speaks to her, but her entire body still goes taut as she steps further into the bar, letting the door fall closed behind her.
“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to.” Her voice sounds hesitant, and I’m instantly on edge. She may have been guarded when I met her, but she wasn’t hesitant. She’d been strong, ready to stand her ground against anything.
“It’s all right.” He offers her a soft smile. “You’re Declan’s sister, right?”
“How do you—never mind.” She steps forward, sitting at the end of the bar in front of Walt. “Small towns, right?”
“Afraid so. But also, your brother speaks very highly of you. I’ve seen your picture plenty, and it’s in your eyes. You and your brother share the same eyes.”
As I watch Walt and Ava interact, I see her start to relax, a soft smile forming on her lips. It’s strange how my body starts to relax as I see the tension slowly leave her body.
Walt has always had that effect on people. Looking at him, you would think people would be afraid, but it’s his easy manner and welcoming nature that quickly win people over. He’s a tall and well-built man. The type of build that comes from hard work, not a gym. And when his sleeves are rolled up like they are now, you can see the tattoos covering his arms. His hair is still mostly dark, though salt and pepper is starting to show on the sides. But I know it’s the smile that really takes the cake. Even behind his full beard, the dimples are hard to miss.
I find myself smiling right along with Walt when a soft laugh breaks free from Ava. I know I’m being the biggest creep—watching them as closely as I am—but even knowing that, I can’t look away.
“I’ll go put that order in for you.” Walt offers Ava another smile as he pats the bar in front of her before turning away. He catches my eye as he passes me, giving me a knowing look, and I can’t find the energy to care about the shit he’s going to give me later.
I stand from my seat, grab my beer, and make my way toward Ava.