Miscommunication And Mistakes

Britt

Picture this: our fiery Britt, wielding a curling iron like a knight's lance in a domestic showdown, but the intruder? Just Holden with a surprise delivery. The morning heats up with a new device—and it's not a dildo for once. As the day spins on, they dash off to Power Play, where the mood swings from cheers to tears. Tierney's weeping spells big news that stirs the crowd into a frenzy. What's the scoop? You'll need to join the commotion at Power Play to catch the full drama. Hold tight, folks—I never skimp on surprises. Strap in; or strap it on , it's sure to be a wild ride!

Playlist: "Dance With Everybody" by Drew Holcomb The Neighbors

I'm getting ready for the day when I hear the front door open. My fight-or-flight city instincts kick in—fight, baby, all the way. I pull the plug on my curling iron and carry it to the living room with me, brandishing the hot end before me like a baton.

Holden's mouth is open when I enter, and his jaw just keeps dropping when I approach.

"What the heck?" he yelps. "Put that down, what are you doing?"

"It's called self-defense." I set the curling iron aside, taking care to pop the stand so that I don't leave scorch marks on the side table. "I thought you left for work."

"Funny how deliveries keep me coming back." He points to the large box he just set on the kitchen table. "Break-ins aren't really a thing here, babe. What would anyone take?"

"I don't know, the coffee maker?" I give his cheek a cursory kiss before descending on the box.

Holden rolls his eyes, but he smiles, like he always does when I kiss him. His eyes sparkle too. Interesting. "God forbid anyone get between you and your coffee. What's in the box, anyway?"

I yank at the tape. "Remember how you told me I couldn't keep ordering food delivery?"

"Yes. I said we should cook at home more." Holden circles the table warily.

"Well, I took that to heart. This is how I cook." I lift a gleaming silver appliance out of the package. "Behold, a Tovala! Even I can't mess this up! You're going to love it." I look around. "Where's the other box?"

Holden squints at the Tovala, then at me. "It's still in the van. I'll go get it, but you have to promise not to attack me with the curling iron on my return."

"Ha ha." I turn my nose up. "Very funny."

I clear a space on the kitchen counter and get my new device set up while Holden fetches the other box. He doesn't wait for me to finish what I'm doing before pulling the top open to poke through the individually packaged meals within. "Honey glazed salmon. Bacon pickle flatbread. Baharat-Spiced Eggplant and chickpea bowl. Ginger Tamari pork chop and sweet pea rice." He holds up the last container and turns to me. "I'm not so sure about this."

"It's pork chops. Meat. You're a meat-eating man. Give it a chance."

He opens his mouth to respond when his phone starts chiming like crazy. Holden pulls it out of his pocket and frowns at the screen. "Huh."

"More deliveries?" I ask.

"No, I'm done for the day." He starts unbuttoning his shirt with one hand while still reading the messages. Every few seconds, his phone buzzes in his palm. "We need to get to Power Play. There's a big announcement."

I abandon the Tovala and shove the box of food in the fridge for now. While Holden gets ready, I survey the changes I've made to the house. It's nice. Welcoming. It's starting to feel like home.

Not my home, of course. Just a home. That barren, abandoned feeling from my first night with Holden is gone. When I'm gone, he'll be better off than he was when I got here. Maybe the next woman he brings home will feel like she's got something more to work with.

My toes curl at the thought of him moving on. I have to make myself think this way sometimes, though. It's like exposure therapy. I'm three weeks into my stay, and this can't last forever. I'm going to need to go back to my job at some point.

I slide my fingers along the smooth counter, the cool surface a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through my chest as I think about the life Holden and I are stitching together here, bit by bit. Every delivery from Blink echoes with a whisper of belonging that tugs at my heart. The thought of packing up, of leaving this growing warmth for the sterile silence of my own place, knots my stomach. The idea of walking away now feels like leaving a piece of myself behind. How do you prepare to say goodbye to a part of your life that feels like it's just begun? How do you brace for the chill of absence when every fiber of your being screams to stay?

But I'm not settling in. I'm not. I'm helping. There's a difference.

* * *

Even on the wildest nights, the mood at Power Play is pretty subdued. Technically it shouldn't even be open at this hour, but when Holden and I roll up, we encounter a scene of absolute mayhem. Tierney and Declyn are standing at the bar. Declyn looks like he's in shock, and Tierney is bawling her eyes out, with her arms wrapped around Joely as she sobs. You would think, from their expressions, that someone died, and yet everyone else in the bar is stomping and yelling and cheering.

Holden finds Shep at the edge of the crowd and taps his shoulder. "What's going on?" he hollers.

I don't stick around to wait for an answer. I don't care whose feet I have to step on to get to Tierney—my bestie's in full ugly cry mode. She needs me. I shove my way through the crowd.

As soon as Tierney lays eyes on me, she spins around and pulls me into a hug. She's shaking like a maple leaf.

"What's going on?" I ask.

Tierney doesn't answer, but I'm loud enough that Joely hears my question and takes it upon herself to answer.

"They're leaving!" she says. "And I'm not happy about it. Now Fitz going back home this morning…"

"Leaving?" I look between the three of them. Someone slaps Declyn on the back, and he sways on his feet, still staring into the middle distance.

"We're moving to St. Paul," he says.

"What?" I clutch Tierney tighter. "Why? Don't tell me that you got fired from the team."

"No." A slow, disbelieving smile spreads across Declyn's face. "I got called up."

"Minnesota Mayhem!" Tierney wails. She pulls away and wipes her nose on the handful of bar napkins clutched in one fist. "He's g-going to play for the NHL. Isn't it amazing?" Her eyes are puffy and red, but she's smiling through her tears.

I take a moment to process this new information and reassess the situation. "Wait, is this… you're excited?"

"So excited." Tierney hiccups. "Declyn was convinced that he'd never make it. I'm so freakin' proud of my man."

"I still can't believe it," he mumbles. "It hasn't sunk in yet. I'm going to play in the NHL. Murphy's coming to the big dance!"

Bennett lifts his beer. "Cheers, asshole."

"You'll be back in the Twin Cities." Now that I understand what's going on, I grin, too. "Tierney, we're going to be neighbors again!"

She sniffs into her napkins again. "Actually, we should talk about that. I'll be right back, Declyn." She loops an arm through mine and leads me off to one side. Her husband is finally getting into the spirit of things. As we watch, he starts dispensing huggles left and right.

"You married a himbo," I inform Tierney.

"A talented, handsome himbo. And I prefer Golden Retriever." If anyone else I knew looked at their husband with the amount of love and affection that she does, I'd think they were full of shit. People don't actually like each other that much, especially not in the long term. Sure, it starts out great, but love can't survive in the face of reality. Eventually, people discover what their partners are really like, and it all goes to hell. Or, even worse, things change. A man's mask slips. You know the one they all use to get in your pants? It's like the entire male collective uses the mask until they expose their true selves at around month three. Then the going gets tough and one or the other jumps ship.

I'm not even cynical; those are just the facts as I've observed them. Except here I am, observing my delightful friend making a go of it with her husband. The husband who worships the ground she walks on. Things have changed, and they're excited to find out what happens next.

I don't want to examine that too closely.

Tierney shakes herself out of her lovestruck stupor. "We're leaving. ASAP. And I need you to take over while they hire my replacement. Do you still have vacation days?"

I take a step back from her. "What?"

"You're still in town for a while, right?" Tierney's eyes are on me now. "You could take over for me for, say, a couple of weeks. Like a temp gig, you know?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'd love to help you out, but are you sure I'm qualified?"

"I have a plan laid out for the season. You just… follow it." Tierney shrugs. "It's a little different from the stuff you usually do, but you'll catch on quickly. And think about the positives. You'll finally have something to do all day."

I glare at her. "Hey, I've been keeping plenty busy."

Tierney's smile turns wicked. "So I've heard."

I flick her shoulder. "What does that mean?"

She counts off her points on the fingers of her free hand. "You're wearing out some poor Walmart delivery kid. Holden has to make extra stops at his own house. And there's talk of a party you're organizing. Why wasn't I invited?"

I shush her. "Keep it down! It's not that kind of party."

Tierney waggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Re-ally."

"Get your mind out of the gutter. It's…" I lower my voice to a whisper. "...an Ikea Party."

Tierney howls with laughter as my words click. "Oh, no, you didn't. What have you ordered now?"

I try to shush her. "I need an office at Holden's place. He said I could make any change I needed to in order to feel at home. Really, you should be thanking me, because this will make it a hundred times easier for me to take over for you temporarily." I poke her in the ribs for emphasis.

"So, you're taking over a whole bedroom and tricking the team into assembling the furniture?"

I wink. "Is there any other way? It's not like he had a bed in there, it was just dead space anyway."

Tierney shakes her head at me. "You're an evil genius. I'm going to have to remember this with the move. Maybe I can trick them into packing up our crap for the moving van."

"Here's the secret: beer and snacks." I hold up my phone to display my order history. "Which will be arriving around the same time as the new furniture. Even Mr. Crabbypants over there can't resist free food and drink."

She stares at Bennett and his perma-grimace. "You've sunk so much into that house, it's almost like you're planning to…"

"...be available to help my bestie out when she needs me, I know, what are the odds?" I cross my arms. "Which is what you were going to say, right?"

"Right, of course." Tierney mimes zipping her lips.

I don't need her future thinking, so I turn my attention to the crowd. "Does Pru know I'll be starting tomorrow? At least while I'm here."

Tierney chuckles. "Are you kidding? Pru suggested it."

Of course, she did.

Pru is standing at the far end of the bar, deep in conversation with Beth. Both women turn to us, and despite their obvious physical differences, the knowing smiles on their faces make them look like twins.

"I take it Tierney floated our idea to you?" Pru asks.

"Sounds like it was your idea," I retort. Then, because I'm not actually mad, I lean against the hardwood and smile. "Thank you for giving me an excuse to stay a little bit longer. Don't get any big ideas, though."

"I would never presume." Pru presses her hand over her heart. "You're only here for a little while."

A tall figure looms behind me, and Holden's hands settle over my shoulders. "Heard you're working for the team. Can't say as I'm sad about that development."

"Gossip can't spread that fast! I only just agreed." I pout, and Beth lets out a snort of laughter. "But yeah, I'll help out. While I'm here."

"Speaking of gossip…" Beth reaches behind the bar and retrieves a large paper to-go bag. In typical Power Play style, there's no logo on the side. Not even a stamp. Who needs to advertise when it's the only joint in town?

Holden peers over the lip of the bag. "What's this?"

"Yesterday's leftover chili." She nudges the bag closer. "I heard about the flatbread."

Holden grimaces, even as he reaches for the handle of the bag. "But… but the beans."

"When you're committed, you're committed." Beth shrugs. "We don't want you to forget your roots, though. Britt's only here for a while. Wouldn't want you to depend on her too much."

She catches my eye. Beth and I are good now, but just like the rest of Sorrowville's residents, she just loves pushing my buttons. It's easy to argue with Pru and Tierney, thanks to my contrarian nature. I want to argue with Beth, too, until I realize that she's baiting me, too. She simply picked better bait.

"Exactly," I say, my eyes never leaving hers. "Thanks for looking out for him, Beth."

"Somebody has to," she deadpans.

I want to tell her that I'm perfectly happy to be that person. Which is why I blame Beth for the sudden ache in my chest. Not the job offer, or Tierney's teasing, or Holden's steady affection. No, it's that urge to defend what I've come to think of as mine that tells me I'm in over my head.