Page 4 of Fallen Hearts

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes, and though I wasn’t usually the kind of person to work out a problem out loud, this one wasn’t going to solve itself anytime soon.

“Even if I sell, that’ll take time. Either way, I need someone to run the place in the meantime.”

“If you go back, you mean.”

Our eyes met. He’d said aloud what I’d been thinking. We both knew I was less than thrilled in Manhattan. Though I’d wanted to be a cop since my mom died, city life wasn’t as glamorous as a young kid from Cedar Falls once thought it would be. Sure, there was more to do. Better restaurants. More women. But there was also more crime, fewer cops being hired every year, mandatory overtime and more bullshit than the army, which is a fucking feat. I’d even explored a position up here, in the Finger Lakes, in another town that had an opening in their department just to get out of the city.

“Even if there was an opening in CFPD, I could never do both. Law enforcement officers in New York can’t work anywhere where alcohol is served,” I said, voicing what Beck already knew.

“Right. Which means you’d be playing Papa Bennett in the meantime.”

“So I put in a request for unpaid leave to keep the place up and running until I can sell it?”

“Or don’t go back. Don’t sell.”

The thought had crossed my mind. But I was no innkeeper. That was all Dad. He’d loved this place. Poured his heart and soul into it.

Now, it was his legacy.

“I don’t know. Leaving the NYPD is one thing. But running the inn? It’s never been my thing.”

“When you were a teenager? No, it wasn’t.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Now that you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s time for a change.”

“Quite a fucking change.”

Beck sipped his coffee and said nothing. He’d only laid out what I already knew was a shitty set of options. Problem was, I wasn’t sure what I wanted, and unexpectedly having Heritage Hill fall into my lap complicated matters.

“Either way, I’m gonna need more than five days.”

“For what?”

Parker breezed into the kitchen with his signature mismatched socks the same way he’d breezed into our friend group in college. With a perpetual smile on his face, he was the guy everyone adored. Women. Men. Mothers. (Especially mothers.) Little old ladies.

Everyone.

“To figure out what the hell to do with the inn.”

Parker slapped Beck on the back, looked into his coffee mug and, apparently deciding there was enough left to make it worth his while, snagged it from him, saying, “Thanks.”

Beck was too good-natured to do anything other than make himself another coffee. If that had been me, I’d have taken it back and told Parker to fuck off.

Although he probably never would have taken it from me in the first place.

“You’re such an asshole,” Beck said to Parker, who ignored him.

“I’ll put in for a leave today and figure out the rest later.”

Parker sat on the other side of the island from Beck, who shook his head at our friend.

“I could stick around,” Parker said. “While you’re off. Help out when I can.”

Parker worked in construction, which meant crazy hours. But I still appreciated the offer. “Thanks, but I know how little time you have.”

“I’m staying,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard me. “Moving to number two though.”

Although the guest rooms were named, rooms one through four were in the main house and had always been kept open, reserved for family and friends. Since number two was a lakeview room, I didn’t blame Parker for moving if he was going to stay.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

---