It takes an hour to get me ready. I could’ve been done in twenty minutes, but Mo insisted on fixing my hair. I drew the line at makeup and heels, refusing to get dolled up just to go to Dirty Dicks. I’m in more of a ripped jean, concert T-shirt, and Chuck sort of mood, which isn’t like me at all, and I’m not the only one to notice.

“Why is everyone staring at me?”

Mo and I take a table at the back of Dirty Dicks.

“Because they’ve never seen you in jeans,” she says. “They also haven’t seen you in a few weeks, and they’ve been worried about you.”

I look up from the menu. “Why?”

“Really, you have to ask? Because you’re one of them, and they care about you.”

Sometimes I forgot how small this town is. “Oh.”

My gaze drifts across the bar. She’s right. I know everyone in here by name, and not only that, I can tell you who their significant others are and where they work, and if they have kids, I can tell you their names as well. They’re all giving me curious looks.

My thoughts are interrupted when our waitress, Sarah, walks up.

“Hey, Claire. Good to see you. How’ve you been?”

I’m sick of people asking me that. I force a smile and look up at her. “I’m good, thank you.”

She touches my arm. “Glad to have you back.” She winks and turns to Mo. “Sean and I miss you. Things just aren’t the same since you’ve been gone.”

“It’s only been a week. Coop told me he finally replaced me,” Mo says.

Replaced her? What is she talking about?

“Yup. Her name is Willa, and she started last weekend. This is her first bartending job, but she’s a quick learner. I think she’ll fit in just fine.”

“That’s great.”

Sarah pulls out her pen and pad. “So, what are you ladies having tonight?”

“Tell Coop Claire wants her usual, and I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries.”

“Got it.” She scribbles everything down and then looks up. “Soda? Beer? Wine?”

“I’ll have a Diet Coke,” Mo says.

“Me too.”

Sarah nods, stuffs the pad in her back pocket, and walks off.

Arms folded across my chest, I lean back in the booth and stare at Mo.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.

“You don’t work here anymore? Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, feeling affronted. I don’t know why I ask, though. I know the answer before it comes out of her mouth.

“Because you’ve had enough on your plate, and I’ve barely seen you to tell you.”

“We talk almost every day,” I retort.

“No, I call to check on you, and you growl at me a few times and hang up. We haven’t had a real conversation in a long time, and the few times you do say more than two words, I don’t want to talk about me, I want to talk about you because I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’m going to be fine, Mo. I know I’ve been off, but that fire was scary and after what happened to my dad…I just need to work through some things in my head. But I’ll be okay.” As I say these words, I really, really hope they’re true.

Her shoulders relax. “Promise?”

“I promise. This isn’t much different than the rough patch you went through after your dad’s stroke. And just because I’m working through things in my head doesn’t mean you aren’t my best friend. I still want to know what’s going on in your life.”

“I quit Dirty Dicks.”

I laugh. “I can see that. But how?”

Mo was supposed to be a veterinarian. She was going to take over her father’s practice. She was accepted into a program, but just a few months in, her father had a stroke. Mo’s mother ran out on them a long time ago, so it was no surprise when Mo dropped out of school to come home and take care of her dad. Between taking over Animal Haven and managing her dad’s medical bills—including paying caregivers, which happened to be my mom and aunt—Mo was sucked dry monetarily.

She started bartending on weekends to help make ends meet. She had her hands full until a few months back when her Dad moved in with my mom.

My mother devoted herself to Mo’s dad. Taking care of him after his stroke kept her busy, something she needed after retirement, and it kept the bills paid. Phil uses a wheelchair, but other than some speech issues, he’s completely with it, and over time they sort of fell in love.

I never expected my mom to meet another man. After my father’s death, she was devastated. He was her first love—her only love—and she vowed no man would ever fill the void left in her life and in her heart.

There will forever be an empty spot at the head of our table on Thanksgiving. The Santa cap Dad wore on Christmas morning while doling out gifts is a reminder of how uneventful the holidays are without him. Birthdays mean a hug and a card instead of a bouquet of flowers and a trip around the living room in his arms. All the small things and moments most people take for granted are the things we miss the most.

The emptiness he left behind is part of the reason I vowed never to date a firefighter, let alone marry one. I want to keep my heart safe.

And to think I was ready to give that up for a shot with Trevor.

“I’m going back to school.” Mo claps her hands, yanking me out of my thoughts, and I question whether or not I heard her right.

“What?”

“I’m going back to school,” she repeats. “I start my first class in August.”

“Mo, that’s great.” Reaching across the table, I grab her hand. “I’m so excited for you.”

“Thank you. It all happened sort of fast.” She gets a dreamy look in her eye, the same one she gets when Rhett walks into a room. “I couldn’t do it without Rhett.”

“Is he paying for it?”

She scrunches her nose. “No. He wants to, but I can’t let him do that. But he is the one who encouraged it.”

“I don’t understand. You relied on that paycheck from bartending. How are things going to work out now?”

“Everything sort of fell into place after Dad moved in with your mom. I’m no longer paying for caregivers, and that frees up a lot of money. Plus, I’ve got Rhett, and now that he’s connected to the shelter, donations have been pouring in. But I’m taking out a loan to pay for school.”

“Must be nice dating a world-champion bull rider.” I wink, and when Sarah drops our sodas off at the table, I pop the straw in my glass and take a sip.

“It has its perks, that’s for damn sure.”

She giggles, and we fall into easy conversation, talking and laughing like we’ve always done, and it feels good. For a brief moment, my sadness and insecurities fade away, making room for the bright ray of happiness I’m used to, and I feel like the old me again. The me who didn’t have much of a care in the world.

That all comes to a screeching halt when I look up. Mrs. Marks is standing beside our table. She’s a librarian at the local library, and we’ve known her most of our lives.

“Hi, Mrs. Marks, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine, dear. Saw you sitting over here and wanted to stop in and check on you. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since the fire.”

I take a deep breath and reply, “I’m good. Thank you for asking.”

“What you did was wonderful, Claire. Your daddy would be so proud of you.”

Shifting around in my seat, I give her a tight smile, but I don’t reply because she wouldn’t like my answer. My father wouldn’t be proud of me; he’d be disappointed, but those thoughts are better left in my head.

“You deserve some sort of medal. I’m going to make a proposal to the town council, try to get them to put together an award ceremony.”

“No.” My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “No, I don’t. Please don’t do that, Mrs. Marks. It’s completely unnecessary.”

“Yes, you do,” she insists. “You saved those boys’ lives. It’s the least the town can do to thank you for being such a devoted teacher.”

“I didn’t save them, ma’am. The firefighters did.”

“Hmpf.” She cuts a shriveled hand through the air, brushing me off. “You’re a hero. Not many teachers would go back in for a student. You love those kids, and they love you.”

“I may not agree with the hero part, but I appreciate the kind words. But no award ceremony, okay?”

“Okay, dear, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

She smiles. “I better get out of here before the crowd gets too thick. I hate the name of this place, but the food is just so good.” With a pat to my shoulder and following her husband’s guiding hand, Mrs. Marks shuffles off.

Mo and I watch her cross the room, and then Mo looks at me. She opens her mouth but doesn’t get a word out because Sarah approaches our table.

“Here’s your food, ladies,” she says, placing our plates on the table.

My mouth waters. “Tell Coop I said this looks amazing.”

“Or you could tell him yourself.”

Coop appears out of nowhere and kisses my cheek and then Mo’s before pulling a chair up to our table.

Mo gives him a funny look. “What are you doing?”

“I’m joining you. Is that okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he turns to me. “Finally decided to join the land of the living, huh?”

“Something like that.” Although I’m regretting it now.

“Just no crying, okay? That didn’t work out so well for us last time.”

“Coop.” Mo nudges him in the side. “Get out of here. I thought you had to work tonight.”

He winces, rubbing his ribs. “I said I had to work today. Tonight, I’m off.”

“Well, you need to leave. We’re having a girls’ night.”

Coop looks at me like I kicked his puppy—if he had a puppy—and I thaw just a little. “It’s okay. He can stay.”

“Thank you,” says Coop.

“Are you sure, because I won’t feel bad giving him the boot,” says Mo at the same time.

Coop shoots her a dirty look, and I smile. I didn’t realize how much I missed my friends until right now. “I’m sure. I’m not in the mood to hang out with a crowd, but one extra person doesn’t hurt.”

“So…now’s the time I should probably mention that Rhett is on his way.” Coop grimaces and waits for my reaction.

Mo looks at me apologetically, but she can’t keep from smiling.

“And Adley and Trevor,” he adds. “Oh, and Linc.”

Grabbing my purse, I yank the strap over my shoulder and stand up, food be damned. It was bad enough to let Coop hang with us, but his siblings and Rhett’s best friend? I think not. Coop’s big hand on my shoulder stops me. He pushes me back into my seat and tugs my chair close to his. He wrangles my purse off my shoulder and out of my hands, then scoots my plate to me.

“Eat,” he demands.

“I lost my appetite.”

“Bullshit. You’re practically drooling, and I slaved over a hot stove to make you that food.”

“It’s a turkey club,” I deadpan.

“And fries.” He picks up a fry and shoves it in my mouth, causing Mo to laugh.

I glare at Mo, and her mouth snaps shut.

“Did you know about this?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I swear, I thought it was just going to be us. If you want to go home, say the word and we’ll leave.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Coop unwraps my silverware and hands me my knife and my side of mayo. “You’re going to sit here and eat, and then we’re going to get a beer and wait for everyone else to show up. And when they do, you’re going to laugh and have fun—then and only then can you go home.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You love me. And when tonight is over, you’ll thank me for making you stay.”

I give him the side eye. “We’ll see about that.”