Page 6 of Your Place or Mine

I laughed and shook my head. “For all I know, the guy is eighty. I mean, the place looks like he should be eighty.”

“Ah, shoot. And here I was hoping you’d fall head over heels for the bar owner and live happily ever after painting walls and hanging chandeliers with the love of your life.”

“Right. Because that’s always how things work out.” I laughed and shook my head. “My mom might zap you with a bolt of lightning if she thinks you’re trying to marry me off.”

The one thing I always grew up knowing was that you couldn’t count on men for much. They had a habit of copping out when things got rough or if they happened to see a new shiny object. I’d learned that lesson young with my dad when he cheated on my mom and left us. The hardest part of the whole thing was that she never kept me from him. He kept himself from me, and the last time I saw him was when I was around eight.

“True,” Melanie said, smiling. “Your mom was incredible, Lydia. I know she’s proud of you.”

“I hope so.” A knot tightened in my chest, and I looked out the window. “But everything just feels kind of pointless without her.”

“I know, hon. But you’re doing exactly what she wanted you to do.”

“And what is that?”

“To keep on living and pursuing your dreams.”

As we rounded the final bend, the trees opened up like curtains pulling back on a stage, and there it was.

Reckless River.

Melanie slowed the car to a crawl and blinked like the town might vanish if she didn’t look hard enough. “Wait… where’s the rest of it?”

I grinned and pressed my hands to the dash, my heart skipping. “This is it.”

Melanie’s eyes scanned the stretch ahead of us. “No, seriously. Where’s the rest of it?”

“This is Main Street,” I said, barely containing the thrill bubbling in my throat. “Isn’t it perfect?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Probably because she was busy taking in the brick buildings with faded painted signs, the wood-framed storefronts with crooked window displays, the little bookstore with a chalkboard easel out front that read,Buy a book and stay a lifetime. Next door to it was a café with flower boxes under each window and a little old man drinking coffee on a bench, as if it was the most important thing he had to do all day.

There were no parking meters. No honking. No high-rises or delivery trucks. Just a slow-moving pickup truck with a dog hanging out the window, and a woman on a bike pedaling past in a sundress with a basket full of fresh flowers.

“It’s like we drove into a postcard from the 1950s,” Melanie said, squinting.

“Exactly.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s peaceful. It’s charming. It’smine.”

“Well, part of it is yours,” she teased, but her voice had softened. “Okay… I’ll admit. It’s got a vibe.”

“It’s gotsoul,” I said, watching as we passed the tiny library, a barber shop with red-and-white stripes painted around the door, and a two-story brick building with green shutters that looked like it belonged in a Hallmark movie. “I love it.”

I pressed a hand over my heart. “This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

She made a small sound that was half-skeptical, half-supportive. “You’re either about to thrive or completely lose your mind. No middle ground.”

“Sounds on-brand,” I said brightly.

She turned the corner at the blinking yellow light. There was no traffic light, just the one lonely blinker, and we rolled past a bar with a rusted metal sign hanging above the door.

The Rusty Stag.

I didn’t realize I was staring until Melanie asked, “Please tell me that isn’t it.”

“Oh, it’s definitely part of the building.” I pointed out the window. “I own that stretch.”

“That place looks like it survived a brawl and decided to escape to the woods to lick its wounds.”

“A little harsh. I’d like to call it character,” I said, though the brick façade, peeling paint on the trim, and the crooked neon beer sign did make me nervous for half a second.

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