Broken Hero

Nothing in his manner has changed, and it doesn’t seem like he considers me the whore of Babylon. I take a deep breath after he leaves, my hands braced the counter. I can do this. All that matters is that I know my worth.

Gavin’s words are hard to dismiss, but I have to try.

One after one, people filter into the bakery. I look up in anticipation every time the little bell jingles. I don’t know what I’m hoping for more-that it’s not one of the gossiping women from yesterday, or that it’s Oliver.

I don’t know what to do if it’s the former, and I have no idea what to say if it’s the latter. I was the one who asked for time and space. He’s an honorable man-he’ll respect it, I know he will, even if I’m not sure that’s what I want anymore.

I’m sneaking a sip from my coffee cup when the bell jingles again. Mrs. Masters steps into the bakery. She’s unusually late this morning, but she looks just as put together as always.

I smile at her. “Good morning. Nice weather we have today.”

“Yes, quite.” She narrows her eyes at me, examining me from top to toe, and I can just imagine what she’s thinking. I’m sure I’m breaking health code violations left and right in her eyes.

“I like what you’ve done with your hair, Lucy.”

What? “Thank you.”

She orders her usual loaf and a slice of rye bread, and I package it for her like I’ve done every morning since I got here. Her arrival is like clockwork, as reliable as her constant air of disapproval. What made her late today? I’m as curious as the gossiping ladies at Ricky’s.

She fixes me with a piercing gaze. “People talk,” she says. “They will always talk. Don’t let them win, girl.”

I blink in surprise. To my utter mortification, emotion wells up in my throat and makes it hard to speak. This was the last thing I expected. “Thank you,” I say.

She nods and leaves, setting off in her usual brisk pace down Main Street. Wow. Now I’ve seen everything. Mrs. Masters-the Mrs. Masters-is on my side. So is my aunt, who made it clear yesterday that it doesn’t matter what people think. Mandy’s on my side. My uncle, too.

I don’t need the approval of the whole town. I just need the approval of the people around me. Who is Gavin to talk, anyhow? No one invited him to the conversation.

I package a few bags of chocolate chip cookies and nod to myself. He was decidedly not invited, and I shouldn’t take his comments too seriously. He is an asshole.

Oliver clearly cares for me more than just someone he has easy access to. So what if some of the prissy ladies in this town think something untoward is going on? I’ll prove them wrong.

I just need to ride out this storm. I could run, but what would be the point? I already fled from Dallas. I couldn’t flee Claremont, too.

Uncle Phil comes back from his morning rounds with a cheery smile and a wave. He kisses Claire on the cheek and hangs his cap on the hook by the door.

“Did everything go alright?” Claire asks, like she does every day.

“Sure did,” he responds-same as always. “Although I did hear some gossip.”

Oh no.

“Really?””Yes, and for once, I’m the one with information. Are you listening too, Luce?”

I look up from the folder with orders, my stomach in a knot of nerves. I know what he’s going to say. Please don’t let it be too crude. “I’m listening.”

“So, apparently, there was a fight last night at the Red Flag.”

Claire sighs. “Those Timothy boys again? They really shouldn’t let them-”

Phil shakes his head. “Nope. And calling it a fight is a bit generous, perhaps. But Oliver Morris hit Gavin Whittaker. Punched him right in the face, right there in the bar.”

“What?””Yes. Apparently, there’s some… well.” He scratches his head and shoots me a sheepish look. “Maybe you know more about that than me. But the argument seemed to be about you, Luce.”

“About me?”

“Yes, but don’t worry,” he hurries, seeing the expression on my face. “Everyone knows that those two have had it out for one another since childhood. Well, Gavin has, at any rate.”

I’m struck dumb. Oliver punched Gavin. He’s been wanting to for a long time, yes, but at the moment… There’s only one reason for that. He knows about the rumors, then. He properly knows.

My aunt sees my expression, and in a second, she’s by my side.

“Phil, honey, can you watch the shop for a few minutes?”

“Oh, yes. Of course. Anything you need.”

Claire pulls me up on the stairs and into my studio. The second she closes the door behind us, I’m pacing across the floor.

“Why would he do that? Why wouldn’t he come to talk to me first?”

Claire sits down on my couch. “What did you say to him earlier?”

“I asked him for space. Ugh, I’m such an idiot. I feel like I’ve mishandled this from start to finish. But why doesn’t he talk to me? He said he didn’t care that people knew, and now it seems like he does.”

My aunt holds up a hand. “Luce, sweetheart, come sit here.”

I force myself to still and sink down on the couch beside her. I cross my legs dramatically, my heart beating wildly. He hit Gavin.

“Oliver is a great guy. Truly, he’s a great man. That doesn’t mean he’s infallible.”

“Damn near close, those,” I murmur and bury my head in my hands. “Do you know what people are saying around town?”

Her eyes darken. “I can imagine. I can also imagine that whatever Gavin did to deserve Oliver’s anger would likely make me furious. Oliver isn’t the type to lose control, sweetheart. I’m sure Gavin deserved it.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m not sure Claremont is ready for a massage therapist.”

“Oh, Luce, of course it is. And if it isn’t, you’ll make it ready. Haven’t a ton of people from town already booked sessions?”

“Yes.””And your yoga classes are almost full.”This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Yes, you’re right. It’s just the talk that-”

Her arm around my shoulders is firm. “People here might be judgmental, but they’re also the first to admit when they’re wrong about something. Stay here long enough, and you’ll see that. People here would take a bullet for each other, and they will for you too.”

“But-”

“Do you like it here?”

“Yes.””Do you like Oliver?”