“It’s just…” Tiddy sighs, leaning against the bar. “Things are changing around Fork Lick. Town’s growing. New folks moving in. And that’s good, I guess, but I don’t know how to… you know.” He waves a hand vaguely. “Reach them. The new people. They’re all on their phones, thanks to this guy.” He jabs a thumb at me. “And I’m over here with a bar full of people who are actually asleep.”
He’s not wrong. Tiddy’s has survived on regulars and word of mouth for decades. But things are changing gradually, including the arrival of a certain sunshine woman.
“You ever think about social media?” I ask. “Getting the bar online?”
Tiddy laughs. “Son, I can barely work my flip phone. Who’s gonna do that for me? My nephew tried once, made some sort of ‘TikTak,’ got three views and gave up.”
I think about Eva. About her viral posts. About the comments from people who want to see more of Fork Lick, more small-town authenticity, more of the “cast of characters” she’s been documenting. Tiddy’s would be perfect for that. The sticky door. The flickering sign. The deer head in a Pittsburgh cap. Eva would love this project.
“I might know someone,” I say. “She’s good at this stuff.”
Tiddy’s eyebrows rise. “Yeah? They local?”
“She’s…” I hesitate. “She’s figuring that out. But she’s here now, and she’s… she’s really good. At the internet.”
“The Pierce Acres girl?”
Of course he knows. Everyone knows everything in this town.
“Her name’s Eva,” I say. “And yeah. She’s been making content about Fork Lick that’s taking off. Thousands of people are watching.”
Tiddy looks impressed. “Thousands, huh?”
“Give me a coaster. I’ll pass along your info, see if she’s interested.”
He slides a coaster across the bar—plain cardboard, tiddy’s bar stamped in faded ink, with the address and phone number underneath. I tuck it into my pocket.
“Appreciate that,” Tiddy says. “Pickles on me.”
He walks away before I can respond.
Ethan is grinning.
“Shut up,” I tell him.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking my emotionally constipated best friend just went out of his way to help his not-girlfriend’s business.” He throws some cash on the bar. “That’s boyfriend shit, Asher.”
I stare at the coaster in my hand. The phone number doesn’t even list an area code. But my friend isn’t wrong about what it means to pass this along to Eva Storm.
Ethan pulls into my driveway and puts the truck in park.
“Thanks,” I say. “For the intervention.”
“Anytime.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Lia really does think you’re going to be okay. She just worries.”
“I know.”
“So stop giving her reasons to worry. Ask Eva out or don’t. But stop hiding.” He looks at me, serious now. “You deserve to be happy, Asher. You spent years taking care of everyone else. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Now get out of my truck. My wife is waiting, and unlike you, I enjoy going home to someone.”
I flip him off—fondly—and climb out. Inside, my house is quiet, and for the first time, it feels less like a sanctuary and more like a cage. I pull the coaster from my pocket and look at it for a long moment.
