Page 27 of Never Yours

A familiar throat clears to the side of me. “Hey, Cass.”

“Who is winning what?”

“Ingrid is going to win an award for writing,” I answer before Ingrid can try to diminish the good news.

“That’s amazing! I’m off for the night, want to hang out?” Cassidy sits on the other side of Ingrid. “Movie night?”

“I’ll watch a movie with you,” Travis chimes in, taking a seat next to Cassidy. “Or make one.”

She rolls her eyes and pivots her seat to tell Ingrid, “Girls’ night?”

“Oh, I was going to have dinner with Cay when he’s off?—”

“Go,” I whisper beside Ingrid’s ear. “I know you want to. Text me when you’re done, and I’ll pick you up.”

“A girls' night would be great,” Ingrid corrects, bringing a beaming smile to my sister’s face. “What movie do you have in mind?”

While the girls talk, I get back to work and grab Travis a drink. Hand poised to pour his usual IPA from the tap, but he stops me. “Just water.” The entire bar goes silent, all eyes on him.

The last time a firefighter came into the bar and ordered water was after a massive fire a few towns over where a few people didn’t make it. I wasn’t here when it happened, but from what I’ve heard, it’s been a tradition ever since.

“Everything ok?” I ask quietly.

“We, uh”—he removes his cap and rakes his hand through his sandy-blond hair—“we lost one today.”

I heard there was a fire in Crest Canyon, but it seemed contained. I pour a water and place it in front of Travis. Cassidy gets up from her seat and joins me on my side of the bar. She takes out a pint glass and fills it with water. She clinks the glass with him and drinks it. With a lopsided smile, Travis huffs a small laugh. “Thanks.”

It’s then that I look around at the rest of the patrons and, without thinking, pull out as many clean pint glasses as I can find and fill each one about a third full with water. Cassidy and Ingrid pass them out to everyone. Cassidy raises her newly-filled pint and awaits Travis’ toast.

Travis stands and raises his glass. “We lost Blaze today.” The entire bar gasps. “He was a good pup. Saved a little girl today. We’ll miss him always.” Travis’ voice cracks at the end; no one would dare ask him to continue.

“To Blaze,” Cassidy shouts, and the rest of the bar echoes, “To Blaze.”

Once the fervor dies down, Travis asks me, “Are you busy with the misses tomorrow morning?”

I glance at Ingrid who is talking to Cassidy, then back to Travis. “Depends. How early?”

ingrid

. . .

Spending the night without Caleb was strange, but definitely needed. Things are getting too comfortable. In a couple of short weeks I won’t be waking up next to him, or with his face between my legs—it’ll be cold sheets next to me, and if I’m lucky, a call once every few days. Staying the night with Cass was the perfect excuse to put a little space between Caleb and me.

Sitting on her couch with a mug of coffee, I’m doom scrolling social media while I wait for Cass to wake up, and an email pings my inbox that stands out among all the media inquiries.

To: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]

From:[email protected]

Subject: RE: Head Writer Query for Maybe in Fifty

Ms. Lawrence,

Thank you for your interest.

While we recently acquired the rights for the title, it includes provisions by the book’s author, Ms. Amanda Black, to appoint the writing staff.

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