Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

ALIX

Ted's is a small, free standing one story brick building with a faded brown roof, and a peeling green sign simply reading: "Ted's place." The parking lot is surprisingly full for late on a Wednesday night, with at least twenty motorcycles and a handful of slightly-rundown cars. Out front, two men and a woman, all wearing leather jackets, are smoking just to the right of the door.

I park my rental car, which stands out horribly among the others, and take a deep breath before getting out. I'm not exactly scared…more like wary. I'm a woman traveling alone late at night, and to be honest Ted's looks kind of rough. It doesn't look like the kind of place my mother would be caught dead in. Hell, it looks like the kind of place I will die in, but I'm so hungry I don't even care.

I nod to the smokers outside as I make my way toward the door. They look me up and down and say nothing.

Pulling the front door open, I'm immediately greeted by the scent of tobacco and fried food. I will admit, the food smells amazing, and my mouth waters.

I glance around, taking in the mid-sized room, with a long bar on one side and clusters of round wooden tables on the other. A couple of pool tables at the back are drawing something of a crowd, and a jukebox in the corner is blasting some old country song I don't know.

Nearly every table is taken, and all eyes turn toward me as I step inside. Even the pool players stop what they're doing to stare.

I look down, double checking that Nana's necklace is hidden beneath my shirt. This place probably looks rougher than it is, but there's no need to invite unwanted attention by flashing a 5 carrot ruby on my chest. The necklace is safely hidden, which doesn't explain why I'm getting so many stares. I know I look a little out of place with my tight dark jeans and faded Mario brothers t-shirt, but is it really worth staring? Nervously, I pull the hem of my t-shirt down, and brush my curls behind my ears. So awkward.

Stiffly, I make my way to the bar and grab a seat. There are a couple of guys to my right, wearing flannels and work boots, but to my immense relief they say nothing to me, seeming too immersed in the rerun of an old football game playing on the tv hanging on the wall.

The man behind the bar stops cleaning the glass in his hand and turns to look at me. "Hi, there."

"Hey. Can I get a menu?"

"Sure."

He hands me one and proceeds to rattle off a list of specials. He's cute, I guess, with floppy blonde hair and a golden retriever smile. Maybe a little young for me, looking like he might be on the good side of twenty-five while I'm edging toward thirty.

It doesn't really matter. Even if I had the option, I'm not interested in the bartender. That's not why I'm looking. It's more that I've never had the opportunity to look before.

I've been with Ryan since I was eighteen years old. A whole ten years of my life, and I've never even slept with anyone else. I've resolutely not looked at any other men for my entire adult life, to the point that I'm not even sure what I find attractive. How sad is that? Maybe I don't even like what I think I like.

"So, did you want a drink?" the bartender asks.

I order a beer and a cheeseburger, no pickles, and hand the menu back. As soon as the medium-cute bartender walks away, I suddenly feel lost again.

I don't have anything to do now except sit with my thoughts, and the urge to pull out my phone is almost a compulsion. How did people live with silences before phones?

The one bad thing about coming here is that I probably have pretty good service, now. It's almost impossible to convince myself that the reason Ryan and Jenna haven't called is because I was on airplane mode all day and the service around here is shit. They really are ignoring me. Maybe they just don't care.

It's infuriating. The longer time wears on without hearing from them, I'm starting to gaslight myself. Did I really see what I thought I did? Did they see me? Maybe they don't even know that I know? Maybe it wasn't Ryan, but some other guy?

"Oh my god, I'm losing my mind," I say out loud, putting my head in my hands.

"Somehow I doubt that, Peaches,"

I jump at the unexpected reply. The strange voice has a lilt to it–an accent that certainly didn't come from here in Pennsylvania, let alone the United States. Whipping my head around toward the speaker, my jaw drops. Like, physically falls open and I have to consciously close it again so as not to look crazier than I already am.

I changed my mind: I do know what I find attractive.

Sitting beside me is the most physically gifted man I've seen in my entire life. Even sitting, he's tall. His burnt-honey hair is just slightly too long and falls into his face, half obscuring bright-green eyes. Like almost everyone else in here, he's wearing a leather jacket, but somehow his looks sexy instead of scary. Underneath, he wears a simple white t-shirt, which is thin enough that I can see the shadow of a swirling black tattoo crawling up his chest and the side of his neck.

"What did you say?" I ask, when I remember how to speak.

"I said, I don't think you're crazy, Peaches."

Oh my god. That accent is like phone-sex. He sounds like Cillian Murphy or a young Colin Ferral. What is this guy doing here, in this weird bar in Pennsylvania? And more importantly, why does he keep calling me that?

"Peaches?" I ask, raising a skeptical eyebrow. I can't tell if I should be offended or not.

He nods at my t-shirt and my cheeks heat as I look down, remembering what I'm wearing. It's a vintage mario brothers shirt, with a picture of princess peach. Across my chest it says "Delicious, like peaches and cream."

I wonder if that accounts for some of the stares I got when I walked in.

"Uh, right," I stammer. "Well, that really only proves you wrong. For all you know, I might be certifiably insane."

He grins widely, flashing a set of perfect teeth. "I suppose, but if you are, I might have to say I like crazy girls."

Woah.

My stomach does a weird flip, and I have no idea what to say. It's been ages since anyone flirted with me, and even longer since I tried to flirt back.

It's not that I'm inherently unappealing. I'm aware I'm pretty–maybe not model material like this guy, but a solid 7/10–maybe an 8 if I do my hair and makeup. That hasn't really mattered for years, though. I only ever went out with my husband and our mutual friends, and Ryan stopped putting in the effort to flirt with me years ago. I don't remember how to do it, and now suddenly I'm hyper-aware of if I'm staring. Have I forgotten to blink? Kill me.

"What's your name?" the handsome man asks.

"Alix," I say too fast.

It might be my imagination, but it almost seems like the man relaxes at the sound of my name.

"I'm Ash." He holds out his hand for me to shake, and I notice that he's left handed. I shake his hand, and he pauses to run his finger over my wedding ring. "Married?"

I snatch my hand back. "Um, sort of."

He looks mildly disappointed. "How can one be ‘sort of' married?"

"Heading for divorce."

"Ah." His green eyes flair back to life, the interest lighting in them once more. "Should I assume he fucked up?"

I laugh, and then for some reason I tell him. "He fucked my best friend."

It's the first time I've said it out loud, to anyone, and the words seem to hang in the air for a moment, becoming real all at once. I don't think I've really processed what happened until this moment. Like, I've been in a state of shock for the last 36 hours, and only now is it really hitting me.

"Fucking idiot," Ash says. "So is that why you're here? Drowning your troubles?"

"Not exactly."

I tell him why I'm here. About Nana, and coming back to work on the house, and he smiles, seeming to genuinely listen.

"You're staying in Ironhill?" he asks. "Maybe you can answer a question for me, then."

"I can try."

He grins wider, and leans toward me like we're sharing a secret. "What happened here?"

I cock my head at him, in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"The town–" he waves his hand in the air. "I was lead to believe people lived here, but it looks abandoned."

"Yeah…it's been that way for years. Haven't you heard about the mine fire?"

Ash shakes his head, and I narrow my eyes, looking him up and down again. He's a little older than me, I think, but he looks about thirty. Thirty-five at the absolute most. Ironhill has been abandoned since the early 90s. It's not like everyone would know that, but he's making it sound like he expected the town to still be standing. Weird.

I swivel on my stool so my knee brushes against his. "Back in the 60s this was a pretty busy mining town, but then there was a fire in one of the mines."

"Ah." He nods as if that means something to him. "What happened?"

"Yeah, so this fire started up and they couldn't put it out. The coal in the mine just kept fueling it, and there was nothing anyone could do to get it under control. The miners and the people in the town tried to get the government involved, but they ignored it for so long that eventually the fire had eaten up the entire mine. By the 80s, the ground had grown incredibly unstable, and the fumes from underground were starting to give people carbon monoxide poisoning."

"What happened to them?"

"The people? Most of them survived, but they all left. In the 90s the government declared the town uninhabitable."

His lip twitches with a smile. "But your grandmother still lives there?"

I sigh. "Yeah. The government came to some agreement with the residents that they could stay until they died, but no one else could move in. She's one of only like ten people still living there."

"Sounds like a stubborn lady. I guess crazy runs in the family."

I laugh. "You don't know the half of it."

"Do you think your Grandmother would remember the people who used to live here?" he asks. "Or know where they went?"

I furrow my brow. Honestly, after the video I saw last night and finding her necklace left lying around, I'm not sure Nana's memory is holding up these days. "I don't know," I say. "Are you looking for someone?"

"I was," he says. "But I'm getting the impression that she hasn't lived here in a long time."

An embarrassingly intense wave of disappointment washes over me. He's looking for a woman. Lucky girl. "Is she an Ex girlfriend?" I ask, trying and failing to sound casual.

He laughs. "No, definitely not. In fact, I've never met her."

"Oh," I say, confused. "Okay…"

"So, Alix from Ironville," Ash smoothly changes the subject, his rolling accent making my name sound a million times better than it ever has before. "When you're not cleaning out your grandmother's house, what do you do?"

"I'm a violinist. I used to be first-chair in the Chicago Symphony, but now I own a music shop with my friend and teach Suzuki to seven year olds."

I feel my face fall. Actually, now that I'm saying it, I don't really do that anymore either. I don't know what I'm going to do when I get back to Chicago.

"I love violin music," Ash says, distracting me.

I laugh. "I can't say I've ever met a guy who liked classical music. Rock, maybe, or rap, but irish fiddle? Not so much."

"I'm serious." He laughs. "Where I'm from, it's common dinner time entertainment."

"And where is that?" I ask.

He waves me off. "You wouldn't have heard of it."

"Okay…well, what do you do?"

"I…well, I used to be a soldier."

"Where were you stationed?"

"Everywhere," he replies.

I nod. "What do you do now?"

Before he can answer, we're both distracted by the buzzing of my phone against the bar. Instinctively, I reach for it, and blanch when I see the name that pops up above the text. Ryan.

Ryan: Hey, so I thought you'd want to talk, but I guess you're going to be immature about this and avoid me. Let me know when you plan on getting over yourself and coming home.

I stare down at the phone in complete disbelief. That's it? Over a day of radio silence and now that's all he has to say to me? What the fuck.

Even though I know I shouldn't engage, I immediately open my phone and fire back a text.

Me: I need to get over myself? I'm not the one who got caught cheating.

For a brief second I feel satisfied, until three dots appear on my screen. The dots appear, and disappear as if he's typing and deleting his message. After a second, my phone rings. I stare down at Ryan's name in complete and utter panic. He's calling, which probably means he doesn't want whatever he has to say to be in writing.

"I need to take this, sorry," I say to Ash.

He waves me away. "Go ahead, Peaches. I'll make sure no one takes your seat."

"Umm…" I begin, but the phone starts ringing in my hand again and I can't focus on anything else. "Sure. Thank you. I'll be right back."

I stomp across the bar, and answer the phone just as I'm shouldering open the door. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Ryan demands, without preamble.

I suck in a sharp breath, and close my eyes. "That's none of your business."

"Like hell it's not," my husband snaps. "When are you coming home?"

"Why do you care?" I snap back. "Do you want to make sure Jenna is out of the house before I get there?"

There's a tense silence where Ryan doesn't answer. My stomach sinks with dread. Oh my god. I was being sarcastic, but clearly that's exactly what's going on. Jenna is at my house right now with my husband, and instead of being worried about me they're both just worried about the scene I'll cause if I catch them again. Holy shit, my entire life is over.

"Just tell me where you are," Ryan says, his tone even, and almost mocking. "This is ridiculous, baby. Just come home so we can talk."

Tears prick at the backs of my eyes. "I want a divorce."

Ryan laughs. Actually laughs. "That's not happening. We've been together too long to just throw it away."

"You're the one throwing it away, not me."

His voice hardens. "It was one mistake, Alix. You're so critical, you can't ever just let things go. And we both know you can't afford a divorce, anyway. How are you going to live on your own when I already pay all our bills?"

My chest pangs, and the first tear falls, sliding down my cheek. I'm not even sad about splitting up. It's not him, I want; it's everything else. One decision, and he's taking everything away from me. My marriage, my friend, my business–because there's no fucking way I'm working with Jenna again after this. He's taking my financial security, my apartment, and my trust in men, all at the same time. He's completely fucking me in a way he hasn't since he took my goddamn virginity.

"I can't do this right now," I say stiffly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"No," he snaps. "I want to talk now. I need to know where you are."

"We'll talk tomorrow," I grit out again, before hanging up the phone. Quickly, I hold down the power button to turn the phone off, and let out a shaky sigh.

I stare blankly at the dark parking lot and the sign for Teds, not really seeing them at all. Ryan is right–I can't afford to get a divorce, but I'm determined to figure it out even if I have to swallow my pride and beg my mom for money. As far as I'm concerned, my marriage is already over. It was over long before today, and now I just need to find a way to be okay with that.

The backs of my eyes still stinging with angry tears, I storm back into the bar intending to order an entire bottle of wine to myself. Returning to my seat and slam my phone down on the bar so hard I wouldn't be surprised if the screen cracked.

"You alright, peaches?" Ash asks, tilting his head at me in concern.

I blink in surprise, having almost forgotten he was there. My mind races as I stare at him. I don't even know this guy, but he's being nicer to me than Ryan has in years. Maybe this is the kind of guy I would've ended up with if I never got married.

My heart rate picks up, and I drag my tongue over my lips as a completely insane idea occurs to me. A certifiably crazy idea.

Without a word I lean forward and press my lips to his.

I hope he was serious about liking crazy girls.