I lift my hand and reach for her face. “You’re beautiful.”
Her jaw tics and she purses her lips. “Too little, too late, Brodie.”
THREE
BRODIE
“Aw, Bro, you look terrible.”
I walk into my sister’s coffee shop in what used to be our grandpa’s hardware store, with a bundle of large print books under my arm. I live in the apartment above the shop, which always holds a pleasant smell of coffee and pastries. I was jealous that Grandpa left the building to her and not me, but to her credit, she’s really turned it into a community hub. Thanks to my department’s fundraising efforts with our fireman calendar, she runs the county’s food pantry out of the back of the shop. Despite her grouchy exterior, she’s got a big heart.
Skye rounds the counter, extending her arms to me. It’s been two days since Aria fell on me, stabbed me in the shoulder with her mushroom knife, and dropped my ass at the hospital without so much as a backward glance. My left arm’s in a sling, so I turn to the side so she doesn’t smush my arm. She squeezes me, pats my cheek, and lightly touches her fingertips to the shiner under my left eye. “You sure you don’t need to come stay with us? Isn’t it hard only having one arm? What about Templeton?”
I laugh. “Geez, if I wanted to be fussed over, I would have called Mom.”
“Brodie,” she huffs.
Skye does this a lot: treats me like I’m still her baby brother and I’m helpless. Just like everyone in my family. I should be grateful—and I am. She and her fiancé Simon have me over for dinner at least once a week and I love playing with my nieces, Luna and Halley.
“I’m fine. It’s not like Templeton is dragging me down Main Street.”
Yes, my dog is named Templeton. Yes, likeCharlotte’s Web. Yes, he does kind of look like a rat.
I love him in all of his leg-humping, older-than-dirt glory. I know I’m a walking stereotype: I’m the small town fire captain with a dog I literally rescued from a fire and nursed back to health. Cradled him in my arms through his nightmares and pain.
Honestly, if the vet hadn’t confirmed it, I wouldn’t be so sure he was a dog. Did the vet really know?
Skye’s scathing glance passes over me. “This is quite a look. Arm in a sling, a shiner, and your big nerdy glasses. Better watch out or Shannon’ll be after you again.”
I sigh. “Shannon’s married and moved to Piqua.”
“She’sdivorced,” Skye says. She extracts her phone from her back pocket, raising it to take my picture. “I’ll put your picture online and I bet it’s less than an hour before she’s texting you.”
I put my hand in front of the camera. “I don’t want to date Shannon again. Ari’s back.”
Skye stills. “AriAri?First kissAri? Aria Johnson? How do you know?”
I grind my teeth. “She’s the reason I fell.” I’d chosen not to disclose the circumstances around my injury to my family, just saying I fell on a run. It’s half-true anyway. I huff. “Hey, what’s it take to get service around here?”
She ignores my question. “Are you carrying books to look smart? Because your crush is a doctor?”
“No, it’s large print because I can’t look at screens and I’m not supposed to strain—wait, Ari’s a doctor? Like medical?”
That explains why she administered decent first aid after she fell on me. And I guess she was bound by some Hippocratic oath rigmarole to not leave me for dead in the woods.
“HA!” Skye points at me. “So you do have a crush on her!”
I stick my tongue out at her. “Get my coffee! You’re a terrible business owner.”
Skye puffs out her lip. “Baby Bwodie’s gwumpy. He needs his bottle.”
I snort in a breath and set my jaw, my headache pulsing back into my forehead. I slide into my usual spot at the bar and embark on the single-handed journey to get money out of my wallet. I know people function with one arm or one hand all the time, but I’m not used to it yet. Plus, Aria stabbed the top of my left arm with her knife, and I’m a south paw. I’m comically bad at using my right hand.
Skye waves a hand at me. “Psh. I’m not charging you when you look that pathetic.”
I sniff. “Thanks.”
“I’m being an ass. I’m sorry. You know when I pick on you, it means I’m worried about you.”
