Page 8 of Small Town, Big Storm

Only it’s nothissmile.

Not the smile that coaxed kisses from my lips, the smile that stole my heart, the smile that?—

He reaches over, wraps his fingers around mine.“You look good, Pop.”

Flutters in my belly…anger in my heart.

And beneath it all?It’s fear so heavy it suffocates, so sharp it slices deep, leaves me to bleed out right here in Sully’s Bar.

Bile burning the back of my throat, I pull my fingers free, barely resist the urge to toss that third perfectly mixed Storm Warning right in his face.

“You okay?”he asks, his smile fading, the slight glaze in his eyes reminding me of that night?—

No.

I slam the door on those thoughts and lift my chin.

“I’m not sure you get to ask me that after leaving like you did.”

Three

Poppy

Those gray eyes.

Ugh.

I hate that I feel a pulse of remorse at the sight of them dimming, at the thrum of pain radiating off him, at the way Storm’s shoulders hunch ever so slightly.

But I just ignore the guilt and go back to doing my job—selling booze.

I do that expecting him to leave, to toss some money on the bar top and walk out (or maybe to just leaving without paying, without looking back—disappearing without a backward glanceishis M.O., after all).

But he stays.

Stays as I pour drinks and take orders for the limited items we make in our tiny kitchen.Stays as I cash out tourists, as I add to the tabs of regulars, as I draw beers and mix cocktails and pour the very occasional glass of wine.

Stays as the crowd thins, as Clem and Daisy and Clover and Blossom slant me knowing looks with their eyebrows raised high on their way out the door.

Stays as Roger and Tommy finally call it a night.

Stays as I cash out the register and wipe down the bar.

It’s only when I turn my focus to the tables, cleaning their tops and putting the chairs up that he finally moves from his stool.

I tense as he comes close, as he pauses near my side.

But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t touch me—instead, he just lifts the chair after I finish wiping it down and sets it atop the table.And then he repeats the movement again andagainas I make my way around the floor of Sully’s, not pausing until I’m done, until all the chairs are put up.

Still, he doesn’t speak.

And I can’t make myself break the taut silence that’s fallen between us.

Instead, I snag the broom, watching him out of the corner of my eye as I sweep the floor.

And something inside me softens when he moves down the hall and comes back with the mop bucket, as though he remembers doing this with me before, back when Sully was alive, back when things were so damned different.

“I didn’twantto leave without saying goodbye,” he says quietly.