Page 5 of Feels Like Falling
MONTANA: I don’t need to see it to know it looks great
ELLISON: (eyeroll emoji)
ELLISON: You’re such a guy
MONTANA: Guilty. So, when are you coming home?
ELLISON: Should be the day after tomorrow.
MONTANA: Well hurry up, we’ve got plans
ELLISON: What plans?
MONTANA: You and me plans, Eddie.
ELLISON: I’ll be home soon, Max.
Eddie and Max.Childhood nicknames that meant a whole lot more to me than a fancy dinner ever would. And just that thought alone has me smiling all the way back to pack up the rest of my apartment.
3
MONTANA
“Mornin’,” I say, climbing out of my truck at the Kettle & Kiln and stretching my arms over my head. Archer nods as he walks across the gravel lot and grabs the pressed-tin door, holding it open for me. “You’re such a gentleman.”
“I haven’t had enough coffee for you yet,” my cousin grumbles, but it’s all in good fun. At least that’s what I tell myself.
“Aw…don’t be like that,” I say stepping into the space with the white painted walls and hanging green plants. They’d taken out half of the second floor, accentuating the light and openness of the space with vaulted ceilings and making the other half a lofted sitting area.
Nicolette and Karina had done a lot of the work themselves, and they’d done a hell of a job. The make your own pottery and coffee shop hadn’t been open very long but it was already a town favorite.
The transplants from Virginia had made Blackstone Falls their home not more than a year ago. They’d hit the mark with offering customers the chance to really maximize their experience either painting pre-fired mugs or entirely making their own. I’d yet to do either, but still stopped by a couple times a week to support them.
The couple brought a certain kind of energy that was as enthusiastic as it was organic. They’d wooed locals and tourists alike with caffeine, clay, and a whole lot of love. It made me proud, and a little relieved, to see them embracing—enhancing—small-town living instead of trying to make Blackstone Falls something it wasn’t.
Archer grumbles again, bringing me back to the present. His brown hair is a little more unruly than usual and his matching brown eyes are tired. If I were a bettin’ man, I’d say it has something to do with his girlfriend and the fact that they spend the night together more times than not.
“Late night?” I ask, and he grunts but otherwise doesn’t respond aside from the slight twitch of his lips.
Good for him.
I like seein’ him happy.
I just don’t need this cup of coffee like he does. Celeste always has the coffee brewing for Grandad in the morning with enough left for me. Call me spoiled but I like the routine of it.
Like it but don’tneedit.
I learned a long time ago that banking on a plan led to either headache or heartache—sometimes both—and a man in my position couldn’t afford to wallow in either.
Life is too unpredictable. Hell, I have to call Hank no less than once a month to pull the tractor out of the mud. It always eats up half a day, but nobody gets hurt and my friends go home with their pockets a little fatter.
Still, it’s just neighbors helpin’ neighbors.
Hank Thayer had been workin’ at the Rusty Fender since getting out of prison more than a decade ago. His wrongful conviction and the ensuing scandal had been the biggest news either of our towns had seen probably ever.
His family was big and loud and easily some of my favorite people on the planet. Frowning, I try and remember the last time I’d been down to his mama’s house for a just-because picnic.
“Well, it looks like the coffee’s a brewin’ and trouble is too.” Karina chuckles, pulling me from my wayward thoughts. “Morning, boys, what can I getcha?” she asks with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes, causing Archer to blush beside me as he clears his throat. Flustering Archer is one of my favorite pastimes too, and I don’t hide my smile as he glowers at me.
