"We can't force you to do anything," Jackson started.
"No, you cannot," Nate added.
"And if you want to leave town, I'll do what I can to help you on your way." The sheriff tipped his head to the side as if he was about to impart some fatherly wisdom. I rolled my eyes at him. Again. "This place might not feel like home right now, but it's worth giving it a chance."
I stepped in front of Nate and clapped my hands together. "All right, kid, here's what's up. I have to run to a meeting on the other side of town. If you think the Cove never changes, you should come along and listen. After that, I'm gonna grab some lunch and run invoices for the month. Are you any good with envelopes?"
"Envelopes?" he repeated.
"Yeah, you know, folding a bill, putting it in an envelope, sealing it," I replied, miming the process. "Stamps, addresses, the whole thing. Can you manage that?"
He swung a gaze between me and Jackson. "Yeah, I can manage that."
"That's all I needed to know," I replied. "Let's put your things down and we'll head out." I shook the cardboard box as I stepped away from the dining room. "What do you have in here anyway? Bricks?"
"Books," he answered, trailing several paces behind me. "And I didn't agree to stay."
"All I want to do is put this box down and we can't leave it in the middle of my tavern where someone could trip over it. The last thing I need is a lawsuit." I elbowed the back room door open, motioned for Nate to join me. Jackson followed him, not that he was invited. "Where you rest your head tonight is your business, kid. Stay, go, transform into a seagull for all I care."
I led them past the microdistillery that'd served me well when I bottled a dozen or so batches of gin each week but now fit like a school uniform in May. We passed the lineup of empty kegs I couldn't look at without thinking about Brooke and the wicked things she'd said and the way her brow had crinkled when she wasn't getting exactly what she wanted. As I had for the past month, I kept going. Moved past it. Ignored the shit out of everything to put one foot in front of the other, through the ever-present reminders and up the steep staircase.
The apartment was freshly cleaned, but that didn't make up for the fact it was an attic with a bathroom. I went to set the box down on the round kitchen table the sheriff had lugged over from his girlfriend's old apartment, but Nate snatched the box from my hands.
"I've got it," he murmured, dropping the box beside the bed.
From the looks of the pastel rainbow blanket and small pillows with flamingos painted on them, those pieces were also courtesy of Annette's former residence. "Now that's handled, we have to hit the road." I glanced at the sheriff. "You good, man?" When he didn't immediately respond, I continued, "Okay, great. We'll see you around."
I'd almost reached the base of the staircase when I heard another set of footsteps behind me. I didn't have to glance back to know they belonged to Nate. "Where are we going?" he called.
I walked through the back room, the kegs on one side and the bottling setup on the other. I knew how to ignore a certain portion of this room, but I also enjoyed pressing that bruise. Not that one night with Brooke left me wounded, though her fingerprints were a mark I couldn't wash from my skin. Just as I savored the ache that came with remembering her touch, it also served as a reminder to stay far away from that woman.
Cutting through the alleyway exit, I pointed at my car and called, "It's not far, but we're heading out to Beddington to pick up some honey when we're finished."
"All the way to Beddington for honey?" Nate asked as he pulled the car door closed. "Do they have better bees up there?"
"Would you believe me if I told you they do?" We shared a glance as I paused before backing out of the alley. When he didn't say anything, I continued. "Do you know the old cider house?"
"Know it? I used to meet one of my dealers there. It's a great spot for that kind of action. Completely hidden from the street by the tree line."
"Good thing the sheriff nabbed him a couple of months ago."
Nate stared out the window. "Thorough, that sheriff."
I snickered. "Like you wouldn't believe." I turned down the potholed road leading to the cider house. "We're meeting a general contractor. He's going to show us all the construction issues that will require more time and money. Then, we're going to meet a plumber with his own list of issues."
Nate scanned the area around the cider house. The overgrown vegetation that'd once consumed the grounds was gone. Stakes with fluorescent tags outlined the planned walkways, patios, and gardens. Spray-painted arrows and dashes marked the underground locations of water, gas, and electric lines.
"What is this?" he asked.
I stared at the building and the hard-packed earth surrounding it. Save for text messages promising to follow up soon, I hadn't heard from Barry in a full month. Our last real conversation was right here, when he was seeing the site for himself. It was classic Barry.
"When we're done, it will put this town on the farm-to-cup tourism map with a craft distillery and dining venue. It's progress." I tipped my chin toward the building. "That's what I'm hoping it is." When I saw the contractor's truck rumble down the road, I stepped out of the car and waved for Nate. "You're welcome to come along. It might not be much entertainment, but it's gotta be better than kicking rocks."
He jogged around the back side of the car to join me. At the entrance to the cider house, he flattened his hand on the door, saying, "Hold up. It would really help my ability to process all of this if you could tell me when you're going to start hiding the knives and locking up the cough syrup."
Through his windshield, I watched the general contractor plow a glazed donut. I glanced back at Nate. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think anything would stop you if you were determined to start using again. Not me, not the sheriff, not a lock on the medicine cabinet." He dropped his gaze, banded his arms over his chest. "I'm running one business by myself while trying to get a second off the ground. I don't have the time to babysit you and even if I did, that shit sounds boring as hell. If you think I'm reporting back to Sheriff Lau or your probation officer or anyone else, you've miscalculated the time I have on my hands."
Nate hesitated before saying, "I don't know anything about bartending."
