ChapterOne
Finley
Happy hour. The unhappiest of all the hours.
“Where is he?” I stop on the other side of the bar, across from Veronica.
The restaurant is nearly empty. There are only a half dozen patrons in the whole place.
Jimmy and Paul are at the opposite end of the bar, grumbling at the hockey game on the flat-screen TV and sipping pints of amber liquid. Reed sits in a corner booth with Stacey. They both work in the county tax assessor’s office—a number I have memorized at this point. He nods in my direction, and Stacey waves. I manage a distracted smile.
At a table near the front entrance, an unfamiliar man is nursing a half-full beer.
My eyes linger for a second on the stranger, mostly because it’s odd to see an unfamiliar face mid-March, which is not anywhere near tourist season but also becausedamn. He has broad shoulders covered in a thick woolen blue flannel. His jawline is stubbled as if it hasn’t seen a razor in three days. I’ve only caught a quick glimpse of his strong features and dark hair, but I liked what I saw. His nose is slightly too big for his face, and a small scar bisects one eyebrow, but the imperfections only make the whole package more compelling and also slightly dangerous. He’s like a lumberjack: strong, beefy, possibly able to lift me with a single arm or exact vengeance on all my enemies.
If I wasn’t exhausted, teeming with frustration, and ready to murder my little brother, I might be tempted to introduce myself. Except I’m currently wearing dirty overalls, muddy boots, and probably resting bitch face.
Might not be the best idea.
“Hey, Finley. He’s out back. Rough week, huh?” Veronica winces in sympathy.
“Every week,” I murmur.
“Thanks for coming so quick. I don’t want to leave him out there to freeze his bits off when the sun sets.” She shakes her head, her long silvery-gray hair swinging with the motion. Veronica went to high school with my dad. I often hoped he would date her, since she’s a pretty sixtysomething woman, and she’s single. But it wasn’t meant to be.
I put my elbows on the scuffed wooden bar top and clasp my hands together tight, resisting the urge to bang my head against the solid surface. “The bathtub again?”
She picks up a rag, wiping off the counter to my left. “It’s his favorite resting place.”
It’s where he goes to pass out when he’s next-level drunk.
I didn’t want to deal with this today. Raccoons digging through our trash woke me up last night because Jacob didn’t close the bin all the way. I spent my morning cleaning up the mess and then the afternoon digging drainage routes through freezing dirt—which is what I was doing when Veronica called. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and we have a few guests checked in today. I don’t have time for any of this.
When I remain silent, she adds, “Do you need help getting him out?”
I blow out a breath. “No. I’ll get him. You have customers. I just need a minute to prepare myself.”
She grimaces and leans closer, lowering her voice. “This might be a bad time, but I’m not sure there will ever be a good one.” She pauses, her gaze dipping to where my hands are still clenched before she meets my eyes. “Bernie was in here earlier with Estelle. They’re selling.”
My stomach drops. All the air is sucked out of the room. The world tilts. “No.” My mouth forms the word, but no sound emerges.
She nods, tossing the bar rag out of sight below the bar. “They want to retire next year, and they got an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
My back teeth clench.Dammit.
Bernie and Estelle have been our neighbors for as long as I’ve been alive—all thirty-two years.
If they’ve sold, this means every parcel around Fox Cottages, my family’s property, has now been acquired by the evil overlord of doom.
My fists clench against the bar. “Damn him.”
Veronica nods and clucks in sympathy. Everyone knows whoheis—Oliver Nichols—some rich prick who’s been flinging his lackeys in my direction every other month to pressure me into selling my land. Lord knows why he wants to buy rural property in East Bumfuck, New York, but I will fight it to the bitter end. I have to. My home is all I have left.
A familiar surge of fury and indignation flows through me along with a healthy dose of despair.
I might not have a choice soon. Especially if my damn brother keeps drinking our nonexistent profits.
Misery leaks into the air around me, and Veronica taps my hand with a gentle finger. “You need a little something?”