Page 1 of Brutal Mercy

Chapter one

Luna

Downtime.Finally!

I sigh in relief because I finally have a moment to breathe. Foot traffic in the store this morning has been brisk. And I haven’t taken a break yet because Rob, the employee who was supposed to work the day shift with me, called me from California this morning informing me he was quitting, effective immediately, because he’s on a journey of self-discovery and can’t be tied down any longer. I roll my eyes at the thought even though no one can see me.

Give me a break. What I wouldn’t give to be that footloose.

Being a business owner comes with plenty of downsides and frustrations. It’s been ages since I’ve had a day off. And by ages, I mean three months.

That’s why coffee is my best friend.

While I’m proud of all I have accomplished with the store since inheriting it from my parents, the Rocky Mountain Depot was their dream. A dream that became mine when they died suddenly in an act of senseless violence. They were in Denver, carjacked at gunpoint, and the perp gunned them down.

Not a day goes by when I don’t miss them fiercely with every fiber of my being. It’s been four years, and yet it feels like yesterday.

But this place was never my dream. I gave up my dreams to assume theirs, kissing my scholarship to Stanford goodbye. And since then, I’ve put in solid eighty and ninety-hour weeks religiously for four years.

God, am I tired. I didn’t know this level of exhaustion existed. But I run the store and have raised my younger sister, Lyla. Days off are a thing of my past. I miss the days when I had nothing to do.

And the burnout is real. I’m talking burnt to a crisp. Because I haven’t had a single day off in the past three months. A part of me wants to sell the store, but Lyla would throw a fit. Besides, I haven’t the foggiest clue what I would actuallydoif I sell it. I love this place, but the weight of responsibility that was thrust onto me when I was barely eighteen was more than I was ready for.

Most days I feel as if I’m barely keeping my head above water. Bills have piled up to the point I never know what to do. But I at least make sure the house payment, store rent, utilities, and employees are paid. After that, it’s a toss-up of what bills I can pay and what credit card I can use to pay the others.

It all feels hopeless.

I can’t even drum up satisfaction for a job well done. I look at the aisles and fully stocked shelves in the western-themed general store, with the camping gear and grocery supplies for would-be campers, and feel blasé.

We are one of the last stores before entering the Rocky Mountain wilderness. And it means the store does turn an incredibly small profit, albeit some years better than others. But I can’t seem to drum up the excitement, not with the debt I’ve had to amass over the past four years.

Even though they’re tighter on the wallet, I’m looking forward to the slower pace of the winter months. I need the down time. What I could really use is a month to do nothing but relax. But I’ll be lucky to get a few days in a row off. It’s also the time of the year I have to get creative with money and see how far I can stretch a dollar. It’s all just so freaking exhausting.

Store hours are shortened during winter since we mainly get locals who need groceries in. I try to keep this place stocked with what people need, changing it up for the time of year. It can get a little dicey on the supplies when a big storm blows through here until the roads open back up. But folks who live around here know to keep their places stocked for winter with full deep freezers and pantries stocked with canned goods.

It isn’t easy keeping this place running. I spend my nights worrying about bills and taxes and whether I can make this place successful while trying not to compare my skills to my parents.

Never an easy thing to do.

But the store, located near the Centennial Cone Park West Trailhead, is mine. Well, mine and my sister’s, but Lyla has no interest in running the store. She wants to attend college once she graduates from high school. Lyla’s brilliant and has straight As. And at least one of us should experience college and life outside of Golden, Colorado. My life is here now and has been since our parents died.

And I’m cool with it most days.

Although there are some things I wish I could have experienced before my parents died. Like attending my senior prom or losing my virginity to my high school boyfriend. But he bailed on our relationship shortly after graduation. I don’t blame him, not when I barely paid him any attention. He was a good guy and went off to college on the West Coast. And I was dealing with the death of my parents, running the store, and raising my sister.

But I love the improvements I’ve made in the last four years. We added another frozen food section and a produce aisle. That alone increased our revenue by eight percent. Besides the traditional camping gear, we’ve added a tourist section with a selection of our own brand of Rocky Mountain Depot items.

The black tank under my red flannel is one of ours with the store logo on it. It amazes me how many people want a shirt, coffee mug, or a tchotchke with our logo. But whatever, it helps pay the bills and keep the lights on.

The bell above the front door tinkles, alerting me I have a new customer.

The silly addition was something my dad put up when he and Mom opened the store. I remember the day he hung it above the door. I was eight and thought it was musical.

At twenty-two, I want to take it down. It’s annoying, especially on super busy days when the store is flooded with customers walking in and out. But I won’t because it’s a piece of my dad. An ode to him and Mom, if you will.

I sigh. All I want is another cup of coffee and a bathroom break. It’s the middle of the week, near the end of September, when we tend to be slow. Which is why it’s only me until Lyla gets home from school, when Tiffany and Gary should arrive for their evening shifts. But I should have gotten those things done instead of wool gathering and thinking about the past.

And I thought I may have a chance with an empty store to sneak in the back and brew another cup. But no. People are trying to get their last bit of camping in before the weather turns. It happens this way every year. Our foot traffic is making the annual switch from tourists heading into the mountains to camp to locals needing groceries and supplies during the long winter.

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