Page 29

It takes me a second to recognize Mickey Brewer from Red’s Diner under his brown curly wig. My gaze falls to his denim shirt and jeans and the paint palette in his hand. He’s chatting with a guy wearing a blond mullet wig, black-rimmed glasses, a flannel shirt and jeans.

Rory, Adrian, and Zach, dressed as Ghostbusters in tan jumpsuits and proton packs, make the rounds, chatting with patrons.

An empty spot opens in front of the bar and we hurry to claim it.

Conall is behind the bar, rocking a pirate costume. His poet-style shirt with a laced front placket lies under a brown vest. Tan and maroon striped pants tuck into black boots, and a long black and red bandanna is tied around his head.

He sees us and saunters over, wearing a saucy smile. “Hey, guys, or should I say, sexy lumberjacks. We’re offering samples of a maple-bourbon cocktail called the Smashed Scarecrow. It’s similar to the one you taste-tested the other night. Want to try it?”

I nod, not bothering to correct him on our outfits. While he’s getting our drinks, I turn to Trevor. “You should’ve just worn your regular flannel, jeans, and boots, and gone as a lumberjack. You already have that vibe.”

Trevor glances at his flannel shirt and shrugs before sliding his hand over the back of my neck. “You could’ve gone as a biker. In your leather jacket, dark jeans, and those boots, you look like you belong on a motorcycle.”

“Here you go.” Conall sets two shot glasses in front of us. He glances into the crowd and his eyes flare and then narrow. “I can’t believe Pierce is here. Tonight of all nights.”

Face like thunder, he stomps to the other end of the bar.

I pick up my drink and raise my brows at Trevor. “What’s that about?”

“Do you remember the night you met Conall, and I said he flirts with everyone, but he’s only interested in one person? That person is Pierce.” Trevor points out a dark-haired man currently eyeing up Conall and takes a sip of the cocktail. “Hmm. It’s good. Try it.”

The bourbon’s sweetness complements the maple syrup. I set the glass down. “Does Pierce feel the same way?”

He gives a scowling Conall a sympathetic wince. “I think he does. Whatever they have going on is too complicated for me.”

Sitting here, secure in the knowledge that we both aren’t ready for me to go back to Philly, I think about how I felt in my apartment the day he called and asked me to come up to Maplewood.

How what I feel for him isn’t just a lot like love.

It is love. After the things we’ve shared, said, and done since I’ve been back, it’s not so farfetched to think he might love me too.

I drain my shot, then lay my hand on top of his. “I don’t want complicated. My parents always described their relationship that way. ‘It’s complicated’ was the reason they gave Charlie and me for their divorce, and for every time they put us in the middle during the years they shared custody.”

“I remember you being upset back then and me wanting to fix it.” He finishes his shot then slides his hand out from under mine far enough for him to link our fingers together. “I don’t want complicated either.”

The crash of shattering glass jars us apart.

I whip around on the barstool. Two people soaked in spilled drinks stare at broken bottles on the floor, then each other.

One of the servers ushers them away, promising to get them towels and fresh shirts from the collection of Striped Maple merch available near the front of the pub.

A tall woman wearing a Striped Maple uniform tee and elaborate zombie makeup hurries to the mess with a broom and large dustbin. More staff join her to take care of the remnants of alcohol.

Trevor pulls his vibrating phone from his pocket and taps to open the text. “Ever and Dmitri are here. They snagged a table on the other side of the room. Let’s go.”

We squeeze by the cleanup and spot the pair seated at a table large enough to seat six. As we head toward them, Jake and Alaric come from the opposite direction.

Jake’s wearing a rugby uniform. Trevor points to it. “That is Jake’s actual uniform from his rec league team.”

And Alaric, who has a love of puns and fun tees, is wearing a shirt with the image of a jack o’lantern and the words I feel hollow inside. He’s also sporting the bat antenna headband from the Fun and Fright Fest.

We arrive at the table the same time, and exchange hugs and compliments on costumes, before sitting down and getting caught up on recaps of everyone’s nights.

Zach comes over and pulls up a chair, spinning it around to straddle it backwards, then settles in place beside me. “How long are you in town?”

“I’m sticking around for a while.” My gaze meets Trevor’s and his eyes soften as the corners of those gorgeous lips tip upward.

“You and Trevor should come hiking with us. Rory, Adrian, and I try to get out a few times a month.” Zach gestures to his husbands who are talking to a group of penguins by the dartboard.

Ever’s eyes round and his mouth drops open. “You’re staying?” His gaze darts to Trevor, then back to me, and back to Trevor again. “He’s staying?”

Under the table, Trevor slips his hand into mine. “Looks that way.”

“Dude, you have got to catch me up.” Elbows on the table, Ever leans in. “Apparently, I’ve missed a lot.”

I twist in my seat so I can see Trevor head on. “Have you been talking about me?”

“Always,” Zach says as he stands. “We want nachos for the table, and what drinks?”

While everyone gives their drink order to Zach, I bring my mouth to Trevor’s ear. The apples of his cheeks are rosy from Zach’s “always” comment. “So, you talk about me.”

Trevor pushes me with his shoulder as he simultaneously tugs my hand to rest on his lap. “You’re my best friend. Of course, I talk about you.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not being completely honest?” I kiss his pink cheek as he chuckles.

Before I can tease him more, there’s a loud whistle. I turn my head to find Conall standing on the bar waving his arms like he’s directing traffic. “Penguins, out of the way.”

He pulls something from his back pocket, and Zach groans. Conall’s brother Rory, yells, “Get down.”

But Conall waves him off. “I have to redeem myself.” He swivels to the guy Trevor identified earlier as Pierce and points a dart at him. “You, don’t move.”

Alaric yanks off his headband then puts his hands over his head and slinks down in his chair. Jake throws his arms over Alaric like he’s throwing himself over a bomb to save his man.

Lips twitching, Trevor murmurs to me, “I’ll tell you about that later.”

The crowd starts chanting, “Con-all, Con-all, Con-all.”

Conall rolls the dart between his fingers.

Rory storms across the room toward the bar, Adrian hurrying after him.

The chanting continues. I hear bets being placed among some of the patrons.

And the Pierce guy stands in the corner, stone still, the only thing moving are his enormous eyes as he watches the chaos unfold.

“What’s going on?” I ask Trevor.

Laughing, he shakes his head. “I wasn’t there, but apparently Conall blames Pierce for distracting him at a bar in New Island when he was trying to do some trick dart shot or something.

Ended up hitting Alaric’s hat while it was on his head instead of the dartboard and pinning it to the wall.

” He bites his lip, but his laughter keeps coming.

“You should have seen Jo. She was pissed. She’d just given Alaric the hat which took her months to knit, or crochet, I can’t remember which.

I’ll take you there and we can get a picture with it. ”

“It’s still there?”

“Still pinned to the wall with Conall’s dart. It’s become quite the social media attraction. Jake and Alaric actually met that night. Jake saw the dart fly and raced over to check if Alaric was okay.”

Conall eyes up the board and the crowd grows quiet. Rory has his head on Adrian’s shoulder and Zach rubs his back. Conall takes a few practice swings, and then lets the dart go.

It sails through the air over tables and trick-or-treaters as we collectively hold our breath. When it hits the board with a thunk dead center of the bullseye, the entire bar erupts.

Conall is lifted from the bar and paraded around on the shoulders of three of the penguins. Money exchanges hands. People pat each other on the back as if their collective energy helped that dart find its mark.

It’s loud and ridiculous and I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

Once the celebration settles down, some of the people I’ve interviewed about the old and new cryptids stop by, chatting about the sightings and inviting Trevor and me to other activities in town. A few ask if we have any leads and mention the dark figures seen about town.

Sitting here, in this crowded bar, filled with old and new friends, I feel like I’m slotting in a missing puzzle piece.

Trevor’s hand finds mine and he links us together. His eyes shining, he leans into me and I claim a kiss before snuggling under his arm.

I can see myself staying here in Maplewood, with Trevor, for good.