Page 54 of Somewhere Without You
Now
TheOldMillTavernhadn’t changed much over the years. The brick exterior had grown more weathered, and the roof sagged slightly in the middle. The hand-painted sign out front still displayed the same familiar brushstrokes, and the parking lot remained riddled with potholes.
Inside, a bandI’dneverheardofwassetting up on what passed as a stage. Itwasreallyjustan open patch of floor a few feet away from the restrooms. A banner reading,The Quiet Revivalhung overhead, and the soft strains of a fiddle drifted through the air as a woman and two men took their places.
“They’re from my hometown.”Dani said, sliding a cold beer across the table.“I used to date the singer’s younger brother.”She gave a quick wave to the woman at the mic, who returned the gesture with a smile.
“Andwhere’sthatat,exactly?”I asked, eyeing the beer in front of me. Icouldfeelthe weight of curious stares from nearby tables—regulars whoclearlyknewwe didn’t belong here.
“A little town called Gretna, Nebraska,”she said, lifting her glass and taking a long sip.“God, thistasteslike shit.”
I hesitated before tasting mine. Itwaslike drinking stale waterthathadbeen left to bake in the sun.
“What brought you all the way out here?”I asked, fighting the aftertaste as I took another reluctant sip.
“The thriving nightlife,”she joked, waving a hand over the dim bar around us. On the makeshift stage, the bandhadstartedplaying—a soft, bluesy tune layered with a bluegrass rhythm.
“Obviously,”I grinned.“Butseriously, why the hell would you come here?”
Dani took a long pull from her beer before setting the glass down.“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.Both my parents died when Iwasa kid, and as far as Iknow,there’s no family left.”
I didn’tknowwhat to say. Part of me couldn’t believe how similar our storieswere—two people shaped by loss, stumbling through a world we never asked for.
“I got into some. . . bad shit,”she confessed.“Started out selling weed, but whenthatdidn’t cover enough I started hitting medicine cabinets. Sometimes from friends, sometimes not. I kept telling myself Ijustneeded to sell enough togetby.ButthenI stole from the wrong person. Turned out, hewasa cop. The judge gave me two options—a year in jail with probation after, or pay back every cent andgetthe hell out of town. Needless to say, itwasn’ta hard decision.”
“So where are you staying now?”I asked, leaning back into the booth.
“The shelter,”Dani saidcasually, like shewastelling me whatshe’dhadfor lunch.“There’s a couch in the breakroom and a microwave.Honestly, it’s not a bad setup.”
I blinked, trying to hide the ache creeping into my face.
“It’sjusttemporary,”she addedquickly, a faint flush rising to her cheeks.“UntilIgetthings sorted. Youknow. . . until I land on my feet again.”
I couldn’t help it, Iwasspeechless. Shewasbrokenin a way I understood. Different wounds,maybe, but broken things always have sharp edges, and they cutjustthe same.
“Iwasafraid ofthat.” Dani pointed her finger at me. “You’ve gotthatlookon your face—like you’re judging me.”
I shook my headquickly.“No. No judgment. I’mjustsurprised by how much we have in common.”
Her eyebrows lifted.“You used to deal too?”
“No, of course not. I mean. . .”I winced.“I lost my mom at a young age and I neverknewmy dad. After she died, my sister and I moved here to live with our grandmother.”
Dani ran a hand through her hair. “Damn. Yeah, that’ll do it.”
I nodded, unsure what to say next. “Gran had her quirks, but she took us in. Kept us fed and put a roof over our heads.”
“That’s more than most,” Dani replied. She leaned back. “I bounced around a lot. Group homes, foster families. No one really stuck. Eventually, I figured out it was easier to rely on myself.”
I met her gaze, the quiet between us suddenly charged—like we were both tiptoeing around a shared ache neither of us knew how to name.
“Guess we both learned early how to survive,” I admitted softly.
Dani raised her glass. “To surviving first and trusting later.”
Our glasses clinked, and we both drank quickly, trying to catch the beer before it spilled over the edge and onto the table.
“Pretty sure I broke the seal way too soon,” she winced, suddenly rising from her seat. “Be right back.”
