Page 5 of My Kind of Trouble
As she snapped out of her daydream, or nightmare she realised now, Noa started to carefully unpack her various candles and trinkets that had somehow doubled in volume since she left Freymoor. Handmade marketplaces truly were a dangerous place for her, especially when left alone with her thoughts every weekend whilst her now ex-boyfriend went out with his friends. Because, of course, an invite for her would have been too much to ask. She remembered feeling so wracked with nerves on those evenings. Her mind was her own worst enemy at times and, with Lucas too distracted in his own world to consider that, she was left wondering ‘why’? Was she no fun anymore? Too much to handle? Did his friends not like her?
‘Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore,’ she said on a half-laugh, half-sneer to her empty room. Even Tinks had gotten bored of her pity party now.
Once she finished, she wiped the sweat that glistened on her forehead away with the back her hand and sighed with the relief she felt. She could do this. So, with her bed made, her things mostly unpacked, and a huge sense of accomplishment, Noa decided that was enough for one day and finally made her way downstairs to face the music that was her family. She loved them and all their craziness, but she was clinging on to her sanity by a thread and had been proud of how well-functioning she had been since arriving home. And she feared that seeing them again, seeing her mum’s sympathy-filled eyes, being wrapped in the safe embrace of her dad’s arms, and answering the twenty questions that were sure to come might just tip her over the edge. She wasn’t ready for the fall just yet. As she shuffled down the stairs, Tinks playing dangerously at her feet, the sound of her dad’s familiar deep and rumbling laughter, and her mum’s screeches in mock offence at something Ryan said filled her ears. As she listened, her heart started to thaw for the first time all day. These were her people, and she could face anything when she had them. She took the last step and rounded the corner for all three sets of eyes to fall on her and, suddenly, the loud hustle and bustle of the kitchen fell silent.
‘Wow, you should see all your faces right now,’ Noa said, trying to lighten the mood. ‘What’s up? What did I miss?’ she joked, casting pleading eyes at Ryan.
Luckily, it didn’t take long for Ryan to catch on to what Noa was putting down: she really didn’t want to do the whole sympathy thing.
‘No, I was just wondering how long it would take for this catastrophe…’ he said pointing in an aggressive circular motion inher direction ‘…to look presentable, so that we can go and have some much-needed sibling time at The Brew tonight. I’ve not seen you in so long and, I have to say, I’m feeling extremely hard done by.’
Noa looked down at her holey black leggings and her threadbare jumper that read ‘in my cowboy romance era’, ripped at the sleeves and with a huge coffee stain down the front, and she rolled her eyes.
‘Yes, you’re right, I can see how this could be a good time for a “woe is me” moment for you.’
‘Thank you, it’s about time I get some recognition around here,’ he nodded with the straightest, most serious facial expression she had ever seen her brother wear.
He was trying to be serious, but the way his mouth pulled up in the corners gave him away. Ryan was the most playful, easy-going person she knew, and she had always wished that, one day, his laid-back outlook on life would rub off on her. But, unfortunately, she was still as rigid as ever. This was something she really wanted to work on and now, when life was so up in the air, felt like the perfect time.
‘It’s open mic night,’ he added, still trying to sell a night out at The Brew to her. ‘You know you can’t miss the opportunity to see Old Man Albert hog the stage and sing himself into a drunken stupor.’
Well, he was right, there. She could confidently say that was something she had missed and could definitely help lift her out of her current funk. Old Man Albert was a Freymoor attraction they could sell to tourists at this point. He had been born, lived, and would die in their small town, and was a huge personality here. He loved to spend every moment he could serenading the townspeople who loved him and would get away with stalling the stage for hours because almost everyonehad a soft spot in their heart for him. His performances had to be one of the best parts of open mic night at The Brew—if you ignored the fact that his words became progressively more incoherent as the night went on and that he absolutely could not sing. He was what people meant when they talked about small town charm.
Noa must have been smiling at the thought of a night spent at their local bar, like old times, because Ryan bumped her shoulder before saying, ‘Go on, you know you want to,’ with a wink.
Once again, her brother knew how to help pick her up when she was down.
Noa and Ryan were only two years apart in age, so growing up they had been the best of friends. They’d done everything together, and people had often commented that they were more like twins than siblings since they were notoriously joined at the hip. It wasn’t just them, though. Her best childhood memories often took her back to a time when the two of them and their respective best friends, Alex and Tes, spent most of their time together. Nights camping in the garden, and Sundays watching movies and playing boardgames.
She loved those memories. She missed them.
But Noa had ruined that, with a secret that had forced her to pull away from the group to keep it.
Ryan never questioned it, probably assuming that it was nothing more than the physical distance between them since she’d moved away for university.
But, she’d always known it was more than that.
She was beyond grateful for her relationship with her brother and the comfort he brought her because she needed him right now. He was fiercely protective, and she knew thatthere was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. As kids, Ryan went through a hard time in school, and Noa thought it was that experience that had made him so protective over the ones he loved, as if he felt he could shelter them from going through similar experiences. It hadn’t hardened him like it could have though, and he had always been the biggest softy around. Ryan was caring to a fault and the definition of charismatic. He somehow always found a way to be everywhere all at once, helping everyone with that boyish grin on his face. There was once a photo of him on the town’s WhatsApp group watering Mrs Finch’s tulips, which had ended in a string of requests from the rest of the town’s OAPs to help with their own. He was always helping Sarah Kingsley with the heavy lifting in the book shop and he just enjoyed looking out for people. Ryan had one of the biggest hearts she knew. The biggest mouth, too, but that was just unapologetically Ryan.
He was Freymoor’s golden boy for that reason and, boy, didn’t he know it.
Getting to spend some quality time with him felt like another silver lining in her breakup, and she would take as many of those as she could find. Otherwise, she’d be forced to think about the uphill battle ahead of her, and that felt too hard to even consider.
So, taking up her brother on his offer, she decided that maybe a Ryan-shaped distraction was exactly what she needed. She just hoped his offer only applied to the two of them. Although Ryan loved to socialise, Noa had survived enough reunions for one day, and there was one encounter in particular she hoped to avoid for a little longer.
Chapter 4
Noa
As Ryan and Noa made their way into The Brew, a sense of nostalgia hit her all at once. This was the place she had come to during her rebellious teenage years when she was under age, and it was the only place in town lenient enough to look the other way. She’d had her eighteenth birthday here, and the whole town had turned up. Freymoor was good like that. It had a sense of community like nowhere she had ever been before. As much as she’d first wanted to lock herself away at her parent’s house and throw away the key, when her brother had suggested coming tonight, she’d thought maybeunlike denial, distraction could be a healthy coping mechanism. Thinking back to that birthday put a smile on her face. Her brother was going through his ‘I’m going to be in a rock band’ phase at the time and had eagerly volunteered—pushed may be more accurate—to make this event his first‘gig’. Let’s just say this dream fizzled out by the end of the year, but the mohawk took slightly longer to grow out.
The Brew was the favourite go-to joint in their small town that didn’t have another good bar for miles. It was one of those places where regulars had their own seats they would sit in time after time, and tabs could be left open for weeks on end. The definition of the quintessential small-town vibe.
Now, everything on the inside looked… different. It still felt warm and inviting—unequivocally Freymoor—but there were subtle changes that highlighted the passing of time and the fact that, as much as she thought it would, the town she grew up in had not stood still since she left it. Her heart ached at the thought of what else she could have missed, a pang of sadness settling in her bones. The once-shaggy-looking interior had been replaced to give it a much more upmarket feel. The sticky vinyl floor was now lined with deep Mahogany wood, which matched what looked like a hand-crafted bar and bar top. The dingy dance floor and DJ booth had been swapped to an intimate band-stand and multiple sofas dotted around, encouraging people to chat and enjoy the atmosphere.
This must have happened when the new ownership took over, she thought.
Ryan had mentioned something about it, but she had been so wrapped up in her own dramas following an argument with Lucas at the time, and she clearly hadn’t been listening. She recalled there was something about The Brew becoming run-down and the owners becoming too old to maintain it. Shewas sure they had run into financial troubles, but that was the extent to which she had listened before Lucas had stood with his hand on his hip, waiting for her to get off the phone so they could finish their disagreement. Also, in her defence, Ryan was like an overgrown toddler and spoke a mile a minute sometimes. She couldn’t be expected to remember every word that came out of his mouth.
