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Chapter four

Robbie

“What’s this stuff?” I stick my finger in one of the many bowls that are spread out on Naomi’s kitchen counter, unable to resist a taste. She immediately slaps my hand out of the way.

“Get out of there. It’s sugar.”

“But it’s green,” I point out, licking my lips.

“It’s sanding sugar, genius. Used for decorating.”

“Oh.” I grab one of the hoodies I left on the stool earlier and toss it on top of my open backpack that’s leaning against the wall before sliding into a stool.

Naomi’s house has always felt like home to me.

It’s one of the only places in all of Pine Falls where I can actually let my guard down and relax.

“So your day was productive, I see.” She tips her head toward the living room as she grabs a carton of eggs out of the fridge.

I follow her gaze to where open magazines are scattered across her coffee table, along with two half-empty milk glasses, and the contents of my toiletry bag are spilled out on the end table.

I cringe, feeling embarrassed. Admittedly, I’ve never been a great house guest. Might as well add it to the list of my many downfalls.

“Sorry. I’ll be out of your hair in two days max,” I assure her.

“Where’s your next gig?” She pours another cup of flour into the stand mixer and turns it on.

“That’s a great question,” I muse. “I can’t remember.”

I pull out my phone to ask Dane, my bandmate and the only person who gets me from point A to point B. He texts back almost immediately.

“Oh yeah, we’re playing a two-night show in Okoboji,” I tell her. “There’s some big lakeside music festival there this year.”

“Ooh. Tell me more about the festival.” The gleam in her eye shines bright.

She always listens eagerly to the details of my travels with my band—the more random and off-the-beaten-path things we do, the better in her eyes.

I do my best to indulge her when I relay the details. I like it when she’s happy.

“Oh, you know, the typical things. Corn dogs. Beer by the liter. Funnel cakes. Fan misters that attempt to cool the crowd of sweaty, half-drunk people. I live an extravagant life, you know.”

“That sounds amazing,” she says earnestly.

“Should be a good time,” I agree.

Although, if I’m honest, waiting two days to leave for this festival feels like two too many.

There’s a constant sense of dread that follows me around whenever I come home, and I’m already over it, to say the least. I’ve been counting down the minutes until I can get out of this city since I arrived.

Not Naomi’s place specifically, but Pine Falls.

The entire twenty-mile radius surrounding here, really.

There’s a reason—okay, several reasons—why I never stay home long.

The air here…it’s stifling. Much like my memories from my childhood.

If I didn’t have an appointment at the bank tomorrow, I wouldn’t have even come home.

“How did the rest of the day go with your archnemesis?” I ask, redirecting my thoughts.

“You mean Fran?” She smiles, wiping flour off her forehead with her forearm. A streak of flour sweeps across her blonde curls that she has pulled back into a ponytail. “She’s not my enemy.”

“She just asks you to run files to accounting more than what would be considered an appropriate number of times?”

“It’s not the fact that she asks me for a favor—I’m more than willing to help people out.

But it’s gotten to the point that I almost wonder if they’re starting to take advantage of me.

Actually, I don’t have to wonder. I know for a fact they are.

Because I never say no, which has brought me to my current predicament: needing to practice standing up for myself.

” She shakes her head. “It’s pathetic, really. ”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I protest.

“You’re just being nice. Anyway, it’s not her—or anyone else’s—fault that I don’t have a backbone.”

“You could probably blame your dad a little bit,” I point out softly.

“I could,” she admits with a somber whisper. I haven’t had a lot of interactions with her dad over the years, but I heard enough gossip within our friend group to know he can be a real jerk at times.

“Can I ask you a question?” I ask. “What about your mom? She’s always seemed super sweet to me. Did she just stand by and let your dad treat you like this?”

“She is sweet,” she agrees. “That’s the problem. She’s too sweet. She doesn’t stand up to him either. I get my people-pleasing ways from her, unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” I hum in response, not quite knowing what else to say.

“It was easier when I was talking to you, though.” She smiles gently as she pours the batter into two cake pans. “It feels different when I say no out loud to you—it helps for some reason.”

“I mean, I’m glad…but personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” I offer. “I mean, other than your questionable taste in music.”

“You don’t see half of it, though,” she says, ignoring my jab. “No offense, but you’re not exactly around much anymore, are you?”

“Touché.”

“Today, in the break room, my dad made a comment about my appearance and how juvenile he thought my hot-pink hair clip was—right in front of three sales guys. It was so embarrassing.”

“Well, that’s rude.” Irritation slides through my veins. What a jerk to comment on a woman’s appearance—let alone his own daughter’s—in public, no less.

“Tell me about it. And all I did was stand there. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Pathetic.”

I can see a hint of a blush spread across her cheeks, which makes my stomach uneasy. I hate seeing her feel so defeated. I don’t like it one bit.

“Do you want me to stop by the dealership tomorrow?” I offer. “I can bring you lunch and be moral support in case you want to practice again before I leave.”

I suppose if I’m here, I might as well help her out.

It really doesn’t sit right with me that she’s struggling with this.

Naomi has always had the ‘Minnesota Nice’ kind of amenable attitude, which has always been endearing to me.

But the fact that she feels like people walk all over her breaks a piece of my heart.

And I feel guilty for playing my part in that.

“You’d do that?” The tender look behind her sapphire eyes solidifies how much this means to her, which further fuels my willingness to help.

“Sure.” I shrug. “You’ve not-so-nicely pointed out that I don’t have anything else worthwhile to do while I’m here.” What I don’t say out loud is that, while I’m all for helping her out, a distraction while I’m home is exactly the kind of thing I need. It’s the only way I can tolerate being here.

“I mean, that’s true.”

“It’s no big deal, honestly. I’m not home that often, but when I am, I’m at your service. Whatever you need, I’m happy to help.”

She pauses to tilt her head at me with a crooked smile. “Thanks, Robbie. You know, if you’d show this side of yourself to your fans, you’d be batting the ladies off with a stick. Everyone loves a genuinely nice rock star, you know.”

I chuckle. “Who says I’m not batting them off already?”

“I mean, I don’t doubt it.”

“Knock, knock,” a voice interrupts us, calling from the front door.

“Hey, Gabby, come on in. We’re in here!” Naomi calls.

“Well, well, look who the cat dragged in,” Gabby says, patting me on the shoulder as she passes behind to sit next to me. “Love what you’ve done with the place. Are dirty socks part of the decor on the West Coast or wherever you rolled in from?”

“Gabriela. Nice to see you, as always, and yes, we make a point to be as absolutely disgusting as possible while we’re touring. Helps with the image,” I say with a sarcastic grin.

“That’s gross.” Her lip curls up in disgust.

Gabby is the one friend in our group from high school that I consider more of an acquaintance than a friend. I find her to be a bit abrasive for my taste, but she’s fine in small doses—as is true with most things here in Pine Falls.

“What are you making?” Gabby asks Naomi, scanning the mess on the counter.

“A vanilla-raspberry cake with buttercream frosting.” Naomi stares longingly at the oven.

“Just for fun?” I detect a tiny bit of judgment in Gabby’s tone.

“Yes, for fun.” I don’t miss the slight drop in Naomi’s shoulders. “I’ve told you before that baking relaxes me.”

“When did you learn to do all this baking anyway?” I ask, shifting the conversation away from Gabby.

“I can’t remember when you started. Just that you all of a sudden started bringing baked goods with you everywhere we went.

I still think about those truffles you brought when we went tubing down the river. ”

“Don’t you remember? In high school, we had the option to take some classes at the tech college in Leighton. I chose some culinary courses just for fun. You know, some of us actually applied ourselves in school instead of chasing after girls.”

I know she means it as a joke, but the sting from the jab cuts deeper than she intended, hitting a little too close to home. I mentally brush it off and smirk at her with a knowing shrug.

“Kidding. Then when I moved in here, Mrs. Pelinski took me under her wing and taught me everything she knows. She’s an amazing baker.”

“As fascinating as this trip down memory lane is,” Gabby cuts in, somewhat rudely, “I want to go to The Squirrely Bear for two-for-one margaritas. You guys want to come?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Naomi says, looking around her kitchen at the clear amount of baking she still had planned to do.

“Come on. Beats hanging in your kitchen all night, doesn’t it?” Gabby pleads.

I bite back a retort fueled by annoyance and wait patiently to see what Naomi will say.

“Oh, uh…I was going to do a quick batch of cupcakes too…but I guess I can save that for tomorrow,” she says with a nod of her head, as if she’s trying to convince herself as well.

“Great! You in, Leery?” Gabby uses my last name as she slides off the stool.

“Whatever you guys want to do.” I don’t mind going there if Naomi is really okay with it. It’s one of the few places in town I know I won’t run into a member of my family, whom I avoid at all costs. The Squirrely Bear is far too unsophisticated for them.

I make eye contact with Naomi, and she smiles softly, reassuring me.

“I’ll do these dishes later,” she says, stacking the bowls in the sink. “Just let me change quickly.”

“Hey, you know, my mom was just telling me about a bridal shower she’s hosting,” Gabby says as we walk out of the kitchen. “She probably needs a dessert. Maybe you could make it, Naomi?”

Naomi’s entire face lights up instantly. Her excitement is cute but perhaps a little too eager given everything I now know.

I clear my throat loudly to get her attention then raise my eyebrows when our eyes connect, silently reminding her to speak up.

“Um, yeah…” Naomi says. “As long as she’s willing to pay for my services, I would be happy to do that for her.”

“Okay.” Gabby shrugs. “I’ll let her know.”

“Great!” Naomi disappears into her room while I grab my wallet from the coffee table. I shoot our friend Charlie a quick text to see if he wants to join.

“Don’t you ever get sick of sleeping on her couch?” Gabby asks me from the doorway.

“Well, everyone else is coupled up or doesn’t have room. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe rent your own apartment?”

“You know I’m not home enough for that to be worth it,” I say firmly. Unlike Naomi, I have no problem putting Gabby in her place.

“Ah, that’s right. You despise it here. You’re too good for all of us small-town peasants.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“Maybe not with words.” She smirks.

Naomi saves me from this conversation by emerging from her room. I effectively skirt right over Gabby’s comment by opening the door.

“After you, ladies.”

The whole ride there, I attempt to stay out of their conversation and prepare myself for everything an evening at The Squirrely Bear entails—drinking, dancing, and talking about the good ol’ days back in high school.

As much as I enjoy seeing my friends, I already know the one thing on the forefront of my mind tonight will be the same thing I’ve been doing all day—counting down the seconds until my flight out of here.