Brady’s eyes met mine, his brown ones shimmering at me, calling to me, asking me something I didn’t know the answer to.He reached up and pushed a strand of hair that had escaped my bun behind my ear, his fingertips a trail of red-hot brands on my skin.
I pulled away slowly, and he let me go.
Before I knew it, we were being surrounded by my grandmother’s friends as well as mine. Stacy and Jin. Helen, Irma, and Floyd. The Romeros from the biggest apple farm in town. Business owners from up and down Main Street. Even Mick from the bar.
“This calls for a celebration!” Mick shouted. “First round is on the house!”
Cheers erupted as Mayor Sanchez tried to call the meeting back to order.
Stacy put her arm through mine and drew me from the hall. As we left, the majority of the city’s business owners followed in our wake. It was a momentary triumph. A momentary reprieve that I couldn’t deny. I couldn’t bury it in the well of grief and stress I’d been absorbed in since losing Grams and trying to unwind the mess of her bills. It was a new moment that was supposed to be lived and felt and held tight. A new wall of memories was assembling itself in front of the tumbled bricks that Darren and Grams had left behind.
“Don’t,” Stacy said as the cool air hit us. Winter was finally starting to let go of its stranglehold on the weather, and an early spring breeze was aloft in the air rather than the bitter cold from a week ago. It was as if Mother Nature agreed with our celebration, letting the ice thaw and allowing the buds to start to form on the trees. New life.
“Don’t what?” I asked.
“Don’t think about not coming to the bar. Don’t think about all the things that need to get done. Just revel in your small victory. Did you see William Chan’s face?” She smiled gleefully as if reliving it in her head.
I returned the smile. I was glad that Chan hadn’t won this battle in our war.
Jay was at Stacy’s house with the kids, and we’d already made plans for Hannah to spend the night there so I wouldn’t have to move her after bedtime. There was no reason not to share a drink with the people of this town who’d loved my grandmother almost as much as me. Who’d shown up for her tonight.
I squeezed my friend’s hand. “Shots. We need shots.”
Her smile grew, hugging me to her.
When we got to the bar, Mick stood on the counter and lifted a pint glass.
“To Elana! May her tenacity and grace forever rock this town,” he hollered.
Tears bit at my eyes as the room broke into a wave of cheers.
Then, Mick shifted the glass in my direction. “To Tristan for not giving up on us or Elana’s festival, and to Brady O’Neil for coming in to pinch hit.”
More cheers and “Hear, hears” filled the room. I turned to find Brady and his bodyguard standing right behind Stacy and me. He shifted uncomfortably at Mick’s little speech as if he was unaccustomed to getting praise when that was obviously not the case. I was pretty sure he’d won enough awards to fill a wall of whatever place he called home.
Stacy and I made it to the bar, and Mick asked us what our poison was. When we requested shots of something fun, he winked and fussed with a shaker before coming back to pour us something purple. Stacy turned to Brady, handing him one of the glasses.
“Thanks for saving my friend’s ass. She doesn’t let many people do it very often.”
He flashed that naughty grin as his eyes trailed down to my ass clearly outlined by the thin material of the dress. When he returned to my face, there was desire there. My stomach curled. It had been years since I’d had that much longing and lust directed toward me. Sorrow. Pity. Sympathy. Regret. Those were emotions I was used to seeing in other people’s eyes.
“I’d happily save her ass any day,” he said, and the smoky texture of his voice that made his songs gritty and bluesy flowed over me, reigniting those flames from earlier.
Stacy almost choked on the drink. She coughed and then said, “I’m going to go talk to Helen. I’ll be back.”
She left me unattended with the one man I wasn’t sure I should be next to.
“To Elana,” he said softly, raising the glass Stacy had handed him.
I tapped his glass with mine, and we slammed them back. The drink was sweet and fruity and went down way too easily.
Brady waved a hand at Mick. “Another round, my friend.”
“Anything for my hero,” Mick said back with a flirtatious wink.
I sat down on the stool so I wouldn’t fall over, but Brady didn’t. He stood, causing my knees to tangle with his and my shoulder to touch his arm. Awareness continued to overwhelm my senses almost as much as the alcohol.I just let myself savor it rather than pushing to recall the feelings my husband had once evoked in me.
I didn’t have a husband.
