Warner grins. “That’s awesome. I bet you get away with a lot in this town, then.”
If he only knew the reason I was working here.
“What about you?” I ask him. “Are you new in town?”
Port Harbor may be small, and I might have grown up here, but it doesn’t mean I knoweveryone, despite what some people may think. And considering I’ve been in Chicago since I was nineteen, many people have come and gone. In a way, I feel like a newcomer in my own hometown.
“Sort of. I moved here about five years ago now. Followed a girl.” He shrugs, a wistful smile on his lips. “It didn’t work out, but I fell in love with the town. I like that it’s close to Seattle but not so close that it doesn’t feel like its own little world, you know?”
I do know what he means. Port Harbor truly has always felt like its own special place, even with all the sad memories I have heresurrounding my mother and her cancer. It’s a far cry from living in a big city, and all it took was twenty-four hours here to remind me how much I missed it.
Maybe that’s why I’m still here, even though my dad is doing well after his “incident.” I wanted comfort. I wanted somewhere familiar. I wanted to feel safe.
I wantedhome.
“This is a magical place,” I say, eating another handful of crackers.
“Exactly! You get it.” He bumps his shoulder against mine, then takes a drink from his water. “Definitely not without its entertainment either. I heard someone got arrested at the Mid-Summer Fling. The first time that I actually wish I had attended it. I would have loved to see that.”
I duck my head at his comments.
I guess word hasn’t gotten out justwhowas detained at the event. God, I can’t believe I did that. Don’t get me wrong—I stand by my comments. But maybe my dad was right. Maybe I should have chosen a better time to let my feelings be heard.
That seems to be a pattern for me—picking the worst times to let everything I bottle up shake free.
It’s what landed me in the unemployment line just six months after being appointed head chef, everything I had worked toward for years.
But I don’t want to think about that. Right now I just want to get through this punishment of working at Stick Taps and figure everything else out later. It’s not like my dad is going to kick me out of his place. I have time to ... well, take my time.
And if I’m being honest, I’m not ready to leave yet either. I like being so close to my dad again. While being back in Port Harbor after so long might make me feel like a bit of a newbie, it still feels like being wrapped in a favorite old blanket, and that’s just what I need right now.
“Warner.”
We both snap to attention.
Ezra leans against the door in all his math teacher–like attire. He’s rolled his sleeves up since I saw him last, maybe ran his hand through his black hair a bit.
He looks good.Too good.
“Don’t you have a taproom to open?” he asks, not taking his hard eyes off the guy next to me.
I hear Warner swallow thickly. “Uh, yeah. Right. Sorry, boss. Lost track of time.”
“We should have unlocked the door ten minutes ago.”
“I—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Take action.” Ezra’s words are sharp, his jaw set tight.
Warner looks to me. “Uh, see you out there, I guess?”
“Sure,” I tell him, even though I doubt it’s true. I still have work to do in the storage room.
He gives me a small wave before rushing past Ezra, head down.
His boss watches him go, then turns that fiery stare to me.
My first instinct is to make myself smaller, hoping maybe he won’t notice me. How could it not be with eyes like those boring into me? But I’m rarely the one to ever back down from a challenge, so I don’t.
