Healing Hearts

Britt

Even a lazy afternoon can stir up a storm of emotion and unexpected calls. Britt finds herself navigating the tricky waters of work policies and personal revelations. As my sounds hum quietly around her, she faces down her own battles with wit and a touch of rebellion, her heart tangled up with Holden's in a dance they're just beginning to understand. Pull up a bar stool and watch as Britt carves out her space within my tiny confines, one spicy wing and sharp retort at a time.

Playlist: "Bar Friends" by Restless Road

I'm supposed to meet up with Tierney after five, but until then, I have nothing but time.

I'm just getting settled in at the motel when my phone rings. I know that number. It's work… specifically the HR department. This isn't the first time I've gotten a call from them, but I have a feeling that this conversation is going to be a little frostier than usual.

"Hello, Susan!" I chirp as I press the phone to my ear.

The woman on the other end of the line sighs. "I think you know why I'm calling. You put in PTO on a Sunday night… after the bars closed."

"Was it that late?" I flop down on the bed. "Makes sense, I suppose."

"Right. I just need you to understand I have a job to do. And from where I sit…"

"In Minneapolis," I chime in.

Susan lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Yes. Home office. And from here, it looks to me like you didn't plan accordingly for your vacation days, which means I can't approve them. And you'll have a warning in your file."

"It's not vacation time," I tell her. "It's sick time. Pretty sure I can put that in last-minute."

"For the full week?" Susan asks. "Try again. This isn't my first rodeo. "

"I'm not even lying. See, I was at my brother's birthday party. You've met Montgomery, right? Family picnic. He was the one playing video games on his phone who could barely be bothered to interact with anyone."

Now Susan sounds intrigued. "Yes, I remember."

"Well, when I found out he received his trust fund for being male and twenty-five, while I have to wait until I'm either married or thirty, I was absolutely positively… sick. Sick of the patriarchy."

Susan whistles. "I see where you're going with this."

"I'm definitely going to be sick for days. I'm vomitously ill when I look at the disparity in our treatment and expectations. Montgomery just has to exist. Breathe air. Remain upright and taking nourishment while only exercising his opposable thumbs. I have to be the definition of perfection. I'm really sick. And tired. But… since I don't get days off for tired…"

"You're sick." Keys clack in the background. "I see."

"Thank you."

"And so if your boss asks…"

"I'm sick. I'm sick of twisting myself in a pretzel to make my father's life easier, to make the company work more efficiently, to support everyone in every department with the knowledge gained from years of college, law school, and time spent in court. I'm sick of long hours and no time off and unfulfilled promises. So. Fucking. Sick."

Swearing at the HR lady might not be the right way to go, but she takes it in stride. "I'm a little sick for you. And I see here that you haven't taken PTO so far this year, or any sick days since, uh. Hm. Ever. You know what, I'm going to put you on long-term sick leave. You get five days for the year, and after that, it'll come out of your PTO, but the code will make it clear that this is a serious issue. So, just… let me know when you're feeling better. You've got over two hundred hours of PTO banked before you'll need a better excuse."

"Bless you, Susan." I hang up, feeling relieved that somebody gets it. I guess I have more time than I thought I did. If I'd planned this better, I could be on vacation somewhere with sunshine and sandy beaches.

Although Sorrowville has its charms. I'm still sore from last night, but the memory of Holden's mouth between my thighs makes my core clench in sweet anticipation of our next distraction.

My phone buzzes with a text notification. It's Dad, asking when I'm coming in.

I'm not, I text. Super sick. Already called off.

He texts again, but I don't bother to read it. That's a problem for tomorrow-Britt.

I spend a few minutes checking socials before climbing out of bed and grabbing my shoes. Breakfast was hours ago, and after last night, I'm already ravenous.

Dining options in Sorrowville are limited, so I end up back at Power Play for a late lunch. Its proximity to the motel is convenient and surely not an accident. It's a weird time of day, too late for whatever passes for a lunch rush in this town and too early for most people to start drinking. There are only a handful of people here beyond me and the bartender. I think she might be the owner, too. Damn, I know Tierney introduced us before. What's her name again? Starts with a B…

"Beth!" I exclaim aloud.

The woman looks up from whatever she's doing behind the bar. There's no welcome in her expression, which is a first. She's not the bubbly sort, but she's been friendly before.

"What can I get you?" she asks in an emotionless monotone.

Yikes. It's frosty in here all of a sudden. Despite the warm day outside, I shiver under her cold gaze. "Oh, maybe you don't remember me. I'm Tierney's friend."

"No, I know who you are. Britt." The B in my name pops between her lips, and the T becomes an ice pick on her tongue.

"Okay, then." I climb onto a bar stool. I can tell when I'm not wanted, but given the size of this town, I can't accept defeat without losing access to my only dinner spot within a forty-five-minute radius. Maybe it's not personal. Tierney had trouble getting people to trust her when she first moved here. Maybe this is just how Beth treats outsiders in general. "Well, what's on the menu?"

Beth drapes her bar rag over her shoulder. "Probably nothing you'd like."

"I see." This is definitely personal. I take a deep breath, sit up straight, and steeple my fingers. "Here's the thing, Beth. I'm staying at your motel. And this is the closest place. I already tried the diner this morning. And Tierney has good things to say about your food. So, I'm going to eat here now. And probably every day while I'm here."

Her eyes rake over me with open hostility. "How long will that be?"

"Hard to say, but I have a lot of sick and vacation time built up. So, we should get used to each other."

Beth sucks her teeth. After a long moment, she reaches for a menu in a plastic sleeve and slaps it down in front of me. Then she strides off to the other end of the bar without a word.

Lovely. I can see we're making progress.

I scan the short menu, taking in my limited range of options. I've just about made up my mind to try the hot wings—I have yet to find a decent hot wing in Minnesota since most people can't seem to handle the heat—when the stool next to me scrapes across the floor.

I look up to find myself face-to-face with a guy I've never seen before. He's handsome enough, in a countrified way, with deep blue eyes, black hair tucked under a ballcap, and sleeves rolled up to reveal bulging muscles.

"Hello there," he says with a rakish wink. "Can I get you a drink while you're waiting?"

"Thanks, but no thanks." I turn my attention back to the menu.

Buff Arms can't take a hint. He adjusts his cap. "I can cover your meal, then."

I don't look up this time. "Sorry. I'm just here to get a bite to eat. Alone."

He leans his elbows on the bar. "Who doesn't want a free lunch and a little company?"

I look up again and meet his eyes this time. "I'd rather buy my own meal and enjoy my own company. In my experience, guys only want to buy you a meal when they want you to feel like you owe them something. Right?"

Buff Arms fidgets on his barstool. "Uh…"

"That's what I thought. So, I'm going to return to my menu and you're going to walk away." I turn back to the bar, giving him the literal cold shoulder, only to find that Beth has returned.

Buff Arms slinks away with his tail between his legs, back to a table where his friends are laughing at his failure to score with me. Ugh. I hate when guys don't take no for an answer the first time. It's like their ignorance forces us women to be rude.

Beth pulls out a glass, adds a scoop of ice, and pulls a soda out of the fridge. She places both in front of me.

"It's a Diet Coke," I observe. "You remembered."

"Mm." Beth leans against her side of the bar. "So… you're not here trying to make loads of… ahem... conquests."

"God, no." I twist the top off my bottle. When Beth keeps staring, I realize where this is going. "Believe it or not, I actually like Holden. I got to know him a little when I was first visiting Tierney. I'm not a pick-me girl. I don't need everyone to like me. Want further proof? I'm a lawyer. No one likes lawyers."

Beth laughs. "You remind me of a younger, richer, more attractive version of myself."

I toss my hair over one shoulder. "I like you. We're going to get along just fine."

She tilts her head. "As long as you're not going to walk in here and crook your finger at another Slammer, we're good. You know what you want to eat?"

"When you say hot wings, how hot are we talking?"

"How hot do you want ‘em?"

"How hot can you make them?"

Beth laughs. "I see how it is. Just remember, you're the one who asked."

It turns out, the hot wings are no joke. By the time I've finished eating, I have tears running down my cheeks, but the sauce is amazing.

"Now I see why you don't have any competition in this town," I wheeze. "Those are top-notch."

"If you're gonna do something, might as well do it right." Beth looks over to the table that Buff Arms and his friends just vacated, but she makes no move to clear the dishes and cups away. Instead, she lingers across from me, like she's waiting for something.

"So." I dab my burning lips on a napkin. "What should I know about Holden? Woman to woman?"

"He's a little bit of a slut. At least he was," Beth informs me. She tips her head to one side. "But he's not a liar. Actually, he's a good kid. Has he told you about his parents?"

I shake my head.

"Mm." Her nose twitches. "Well. He grew up rough. Lots of folks around here do. His dad was in a big accident on the job, oh, fifteen years ago. They ended up moving away, but Holden came back to play for the Slammers. He doesn't talk about it much, but it's hard to keep secrets in this town. Now that the Slammers are doing better, Holden could cut back his delivery hours during the season. He never does. I'm pretty sure he's sending money back to his old man."

"Oh." The bare house makes more sense now. It's not just that Holden likes things simple… he's taking care of someone else. It's such a far cry from what I'm used to with my family that I can't process just how much responsibility that must be for him.

Truth be told, it makes me like him more.

"Holden likes you," Beth says. "He wouldn't want me to tell you that, but you're not just a good time to him, either. Be nice to him, okay? Doesn't mean you owe him anything more than you want to give, I'd never ask that, but… be kind. Be thoughtful. There's not enough empathy in this world."

I get the feeling she's talking about something more than my relationship with Holden, but I don't pry. All I say is, "I'll do my best."

Beth offers me a lopsided smile. "That's all anyone can do, I guess. Now, are you ready for a grown-up drink or what?"