Page 1 of Fight for You

1

Brylee

Leather-bound books and aged paper are like my coffee in the morning. I run my fingertips along the shelves.Hello, my friends. What adventures await us today?I have found something that brings me happiness. When I took over this small town bookstore, honestly, I never thought it would last this long. With the ways of the world now, you can press a button and get things delivered to your door in two days flat. But there are still some people that love to stop local and support small businesses, and those people are the reason it has survived.

With my time away from Lawson Ridge, things didn’t go as expected, which led me straight back to my hometown. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to be back, but there are disadvantages to growing up and remaining in a small town. Everyone here knows me, which means I can’t even pick my nose without someone gossiping about me. Lucky me.

I turn on the espresso maker, getting it ready for the influx of the morning coffee rush. The first two hours of being open are the busiest, so I try to get here early enough to enjoy a cup of joe, but not this morning. The nightmares won’t leave me alone. In the few weeks I have been back in town, I might have gotten thirty hours of decent sleep. My best friend hasbeen commenting on my dark circles, which doesn’t make it any better. But she gets a kick out of it.

I restock the coffee bar to the brim, hoping it’ll cover the rush, but it never does. Wishful thinking, I guess. I stand behind the counter, surveying the deserted bookstore, relishing in the peace and quiet before it fills with eager readers seeking their next literary adventure or the many coffee fiends rushing to the counter to obtain their next fix. No judgement though.

Amidst life’s turmoil, I seek solace in these moments. While the wounds of my past might still haunt me, within these walls, I will always have a place where I belong. No one can take that from me. No one can take Page Turners from me.

Sunlight begins to stream through the tall windows. My cue that it is almost time to open. I go to the front of the store and take a minute to tidy up the romance section, my fingers gliding over the colorful book covers. My favorite section in the whole place. Or well, it used to be.

“Love is like a hurricane,” I murmur, remembering a line from one of my favorite romance novels. “It sweeps you off your feet, leaves you breathless, and then... it’s gone.” A wistful sigh escapes my lips as I think about my failed marriage to Tucker. He swept me off my feet, leaving me intoxicated by his charm. But over time, his manipulative ways drained my spirit, leaving me questioning my worth.Never again. Instead, I vow to protect my heart, even if it means building walls around it. Despite the ache in my heart from past trust issues, I won’t allow the pain to shape who I am. There is still someone out there for me, I know it, but right now my focus is to heal from the break-up, and get back to the Brylee I want to be. Not the version of myself Tucker curated. That version of myself is long gone, and the happy-go-lucky Brylee is back.

I turn the closed sign to open and unlock the front door, taking a peek to see if anyone is already heading down the streetto see me. I laugh when I see Mr. Hogan making his way toward me. He has come in here every day since we opened for his morning cup of coffee on his way to work. My regular customers are the best and I normally have their coffee started before they even make it to the counter.

I open the door and hold it open for him to slip inside. “Good morning. Another day where you are the first customer.”

He heads straight to the counter. “Not my fault everyone else doesn’t get up until nine in the morning anymore.”

I take my time crafting his caramel macchiato to perfection before topping it with whipped cream and put the lip on top. “That’ll be $4.”

“Since when?” He hands me six dollars. “It’s always been six.”

I take the bills beside two and put them into the register. “I’ve decided that since you have been our longest running customer, you get a small discount.”

He rolls his eyes. “Nonsense. Giving me a discount every day could put you out of business. Then where would I procure this perfect concoction?”

I laugh when I see him slip it into the tip jar before tipping his hat and leaving out the front door. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Hogan.”

Once he withdraws, it's a madhouse dash from counter to espresso machine, over and over. Finally around eleven, I catch my breath. People are serious about their coffee addiction.

“Finding everything, okay?” I ask a young man browsing the mystery section as I pass by. He shakes his head and goes back to browsing.

My regulars are always coming in asking for recommendations, and over the last few weeks, I’ve read close to fifteen books. Besides my occasional hangout with my best friend, I do nothing, which might seem pathetic, but it’speaceful. When I was with Tucker, things weren’t so great. Well, in the beginning they were, of course, but slowly he started controlling my every move. It was so subtle and spread out that I didn’t realize it until toward the end. Once I realized what he was doing, I left him. Packed my bags, filed for divorce, uncontested surprisingly, and moved back here.

I have been avoiding going to Miles’ Bar - because of him. Leo. I can’t bring myself to seek him out, yet it’s only a matter of time before we run into each other in this extremely small town. I have wondered what I will say to him, how I can ever apologize for what I did, but there are no words to convey.

The bell above the door goes off alerting me to more customers, which is a welcome respite from getting lost in my thoughts. A busy bee doesn’t have time for regrets or introspection.

As the day goes on, solace is found not only in my beloved books, but also in the connections formed with the people of Lawson Ridge. Each conversation, each smile, each shared laugh helps mend the cracks in my heart, stitching together the pieces Tucker broke.

When closing time hits, I turn over the open sign and lock the large oak doors. I walk through the store, re-shelving unpurchased books and merchandise and wiping down the tables. One less thing I have to worry about in the morning.

I shut off the lights, open and shut the door behind me, turning my key to lock it.

“Hey, Bree!” I turn to see my best friend, Candace Whitman, jogging towards me. Her blonde hair bouncing with each step. Again, small town.

“Did you just get off work?” I stop so she can catch up. She works insane hours, and we aren’t supposed to meet up for another hour or so. Girl’s night. We try to have one every week, just me, her and a box of wine.

“Yup.” Candace wipes sweat from her brow. “I swear, if I have to change one more bedpan, I might go crazy. But hey, we all have our crosses to bear. Speaking of which,” Candace continues, linking her arm through mine, “how was your day? Did you find any new books to add to your ever-growing porn collection?”

She is delusional. Honestly it irks me that everyone is so judgmental about the genre. “It’s not porn. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a book that has some of the biggest fantasies in them. Isn’t the point of reading in the first place? To give us what we can’t get in reality? Not every romance book has sex in it.” Candace is not a reader. She will never understand the escape that comes with curling up in front of a fire with a good book.

“See, who needs a man when you’ve got books?” Candace teases, giving me a playful nudge. “Tucker did a number on you, but not all men are like him. You’ll find someone worthy of you someday. Someone that isn’t fictional. And he will do all the dirty things you want.”

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