Page 24 of One Chance to Stay
“I’d help you,” Abraham said. “But my back. Knee. Tennis elbow.” He threw up his hands and headed toward the door.
“Hey, Dad.” Laurel smacked her dad in the chest. “Didn’t you say something about something special for Walter’s bachelor party? How about a world-renowned bartender?”
She threw my name into the mix as if we were old friends. Bachelor parties were always the worst. It stopped being about the interactions with patrons and turned into a need to get drunk. I’m sure Laurel had the best of intentions, but there was no way?—
“That’d be perfect.” Like that, my fate was sealed. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Was that a question?”
I knew the answer. He’d claim that he asked, but there wasn’t a choice in the matter. Had I met Walter yet? Maybe he was another of Jason’s friends from school? I’m sure I could ask, but did it matter? All men at bachelor parties turned into the same drunken fool. I could only hope that they tipped well.
I had come here expecting a week of quiet. Somehow, I’d been recruited into a lumberjack competition, a bonfire crew, and now a bachelor party. Firefly didn’t ask permission—it just claimed you.
The steam rose off the piping hot cup of cocoa. It had been years since I had hot chocolate. With a gentle exhale, the wisps vanished, and then I inhaled the delicious, chocolaty goodness. Tiny white marshmallows bobbed up and down, completing the perfect drink. Evelyn knew how to dial up the charm of Valhalla and make it a cozy experience.
I curled up on the couch in my flannel PJs and ratty old bar shirt. Wiggling my toes, I watched as the multicolored yarn of my newly acquired socks rippled back and forth. Firefly might be an adorable small town, but my hostess took it to a new level. Everything about Valhalla reminded me of a warm embrace.
I brought my laptop down from my room, ready to look at an inventory report for the bar, when she appeared with the mug. I put off work, determined to embrace the quiet. Vacationing and letting go of the job didn’t come naturally. This right here is exactly what I needed. With nothing to do, it was time I thought about what Tyler had said.
“No distractions,” I muttered.
What did I want? More importantly, what did I need?
The question reminded me of when my teachers would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up. I hadn’t become a firefighter, marine biologist, or astronaut. Younger me had big aspirations. As I sipped my cocoa, I realized that somewhere along the line, I had stopped reaching. I grew comfortable in a job that paid the bills, but I hadn’t dreamed about a fictional future in a long time.
What would younger me ask?
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I whispered the words, hearing Mr. McClure’s voice. “You can be anything you want.”
I set aside the version of me who performed tricks for patrons. I closed my eyes and thought about the future. The image of me flying through the void of space in a bulky suit made me chuckle. We’d be crossing that off my list. Even as I tried to imagine what I wore in this fictional future, I thought about the man dancing about his living room.
My far-off future took a backseat to the more immediate situation. Getting off with another man should have left me confused. Did I need to have a conversation about my sexuality? The focus remained on the moment Seamus continued our dance. In the solitude of his home, he invited me into an intimate moment. I wanted to break the shell, to make the man smile. Instead, he presented me with an even more powerful gift.
Vulnerability.
I hoped I accepted it well, that it healed something inside him. It had been… wonderful? I cracked a smile at the confession. While we fell asleep, his body cradling mine, it might have done something to calm my mind. I could still feel the weight of his arm around my chest. I hadn’t expected it to feel like peace. Maybe Tyler had been right. Last night, Seamus had given me a gift, and somehow, I think that tied into why I came to Firefly.
I wanted, no,neededto help people.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Evelyn leaned against the archway, the epitome of winter coziness. Gray sweatpants, a sweater big enough to be considered a long-sleeved dress, and a mug with “Tougher than a bag of hammers” in a bold font. She couldn’t be any more native if she had a blueberry pie and rode in on a Moose.
“There’s enough you wouldn’t need change for a dollar.”
I knew from Jon that Evelyn had spent the last few decades out of state. She had come back after her grandmother died and turned her home into Valhalla. Jon’s portrait of his grandmother still hung above the fireplace. She had quit her job and turned this into her home.
“What made you come back to Firefly?”
She let out a low whistle before taking a seat in one of the oversized armchairs. Pulling her knees against her chest, she settled in for a big conversation. I didn’t have plans to move here, but maybe she had advice for big life changes?
“Firefly is a lot. I can’t casually ask somebody how they’re doing without putting a pot of coffee on the stove. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do all this.” She gestured to the living room. “In a way, I wasn’t doing it alone. This is as much Firefly’s legacy as it is mine and Jon’s.”
“Were you scared?”
“Of?”
“Everything? You uprooted your entire life.”
