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T he town of Fairfield looks like a fucking postcard. I’m not kidding. The buildings are all different shades of pastels, the houses have white picket fences, and the main street is a mixture of small businesses that you would only find in a town like this. It’s the kind of place you find in those perfect small town movies or romance books, and I half expect a cowboy turned firefighter to run in front of my car while saving some damsel in distress. That thought has me rolling my eyes as I come to a stop sign, checking my maps app for the tenth time since I rolled past the town welcome sign.

I’ve been here plenty of times before, but I was always driven by my mom or dad, never paying attention to the roads or buildings. In my defense, I never envisioned myself having to drive my car filled with all my earthly possessions across the state to live here. Checking my phone for the address again, I flick my stare between the map and where I am, when my eyes land on a small white church across the road from me. Churches are somewhere I spent most of my childhood, from nightly masses to Sunday school, they have always been my solace, but I haven’t stepped foot in one in almost six weeks. Not since my grandmother’s funeral.

I always thought my faith was unwavering. That no matter what anyone said or did, it wouldn’t change my belief that it’s all part of some bigger plan. Then my mom died. Some drunk driver slammed into her car, killing her instantly, and it was then I started to question things. I tried to remain strong, I did, everyone told me she was in a better place, that God wouldn’t give me challenges I couldn’t overcome, but I felt my trust in everything falling apart. Ben tried to console me, to help me pack up her things and move them to my grandma’s house, all the while telling me how proud he was of me. How God was watching me and good things were coming next, and then my grandma died, and the last bit of faith I had was obliterated completely.

Instead of focusing on my new life at the local college, I was attending funerals, dealing with lawyers, and packing up two houses. It’s hard enough losing someone, never mind two someones, but to see their lives be reduced to just the things they owned, well, it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Ben couldn’t understand why I couldn’t find peace and acceptance in God, but then again, he doesn’t understand much lately. Apparently I’ve changed, and it isn’t good for us, but why can’t he see that I didn’t choose to change? The loss of the two most important people in my life rearranged my entire being into someone I don’t even recognize myself, and if that wasn’t enough, I then had to move my entire life to a town I have never considered home. I lost my mother, my grandmother, the only two homes I have ever truly known, all my friends, and the life I thought I was going to have.

How can I keep the faith when everything else has been ripped away from me?

Pulling my eyes from the church, I focus back on the map on my phone and find that my destination is just a few streets over, so I toss it back to my passenger seat and start driving again. It doesn’t take me long to find the apartment building my dad gave me the address of, and I come to a stop outside, parking in one of the available spaces. Apparently, one of the guys on his team gave him the heads up that his girlfriend was looking for a new roommate, and well, here I am. My dad has a room for me at his house, but I knew if I had to come here that I would need my own space to grieve, and well, this apartment is as good as it gets.

Climbing out of my car, the only things I grab are my phone and my backpack, not bothering with any of the other stuff yet, heading straight inside to try and find the apartment that is going to be my home for the foreseeable future. The inside is nice enough, a little damp in places with some chipped paint, but nothing too concerning, and when I reach the fourth floor, I’m pleasantly surprised to find a cute little daisy-covered doormat in front of the door marked 4B. Surely the owner of such a mat has to be just as pleasant, right?

Inhaling a deep breath, I raise my hand and knock firmly on the door three times, instantly hearing a melodic voice shout through the door, “Just a second.” It's another ten-seconds before the door flies open, and I am greeted by a petite girl with short black hair. “Please tell me you’re Aubree,” she greets me with an exasperated smile, and I can’t help but smile back as I nod and hold out my hand for her to shake.

“Actually, my friends call me Bree,” I reply gently, and she nods in response, grabbing my hand, yet instead of shaking it, she uses it to yank me inside, instantly dragging me through the living room to the kitchen. We move so fast that I barely even have time to check out my surroundings.

“Bree, please tell me you have enough strength to open this jar of damn pickles,” she curses, bringing us to a stop beside a huge jar, and I can’t help but smile, as she steals my bag from me and hands me the jar. When I do nothing but stare between her and the jar, she adds, “Please, I’m due my period any second and the only thing that will stop me from throwing myself out of the window is one of those pickles.”

I stifle a laugh as I try my strength at the jar, and when it pops open on the third try my new roommate squeals, ripping it back from my hands and immediately diving in. I watch her closely as I wipe my hands on my jeans, “You’re Evie, right?” I ask, wanting to confirm that she is in fact my new roommate, and she nods her head around the pickle she is currently shoving into her mouth.

“That’s me,” she chokes, as another knock sounds on the front door that she left wide open, and both our heads snap towards it.

“Babe, you here?” A masculine voice calls through the apartment and she instantly rolls her eyes.

“Don’t you babe me, you asshole, you were supposed to be here over an hour ago,” she shouts back, and only a few seconds pass before a tall, muscular frame fills the entrance to the kitchen.

“Sorry, Evs, practice with the guys went longer than I expected, you know what Cap is like,” the guy pleads, his eyes only on her, and it isn’t hard to tell that he must be her boyfriend.

“Did Nova call you lazy?” Evie asks, pointing a half-eaten pickle at him, and he nods.

“And stupid,” he adds, smiling proudly, confusing me completely, but my new roommate finally lets her shoulders drop and her anger go.

“Well, okay then, I’ll allow it” she sighs, before focusing back on me, as if only now just remembering I’m here. “Shit, sorry, I have terrible manners, this is my boyfriend, Jake Harper. Jake, this is my new roommate.”

Jake flicks his eyes to where I am standing, pausing slightly before recognition flows through him. “Oh yeah, you're Coach's daughter, right? Aubree Locke?”

I cringe slightly as he automatically presumes I have my dad’s last name, before I politely respond, “It’s Aubree Callows, actually, but my friends all call me Bree.” Friends that I have left behind and have no clue when I will see again, and are nothing like the people standing before me.

“Bree,” he corrects with a smile, before holding out his hand for me to shake. “Well it’s nice to meet you.” I shake his hand, as Evie shoves the remainder of a pickle in her mouth before pushing the jar aside.

“Well don’t just stand there, get your ass down to Bree’s car and bring up her stuff,” she demands of him with another roll of her eyes.

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” I start to protest, but she is already cutting me off with a wave of her hand.

“Bree, what’s the use of a boyfriend if you’re not going to force them to do hard labor for you for free?” she asks, linking her arm with mine. “Besides, how am I supposed to get to know you if you’re too busy lugging boxes up four flights of stairs?” she adds, and when I don’t argue, she smiles in triumph, as I have no choice but to give Jake my keys and tell him which car is mine.

Three hours later my boxes are taking up half of the apartment, none of them yet unpacked, and Evie and I are lounging on the sofa eating Chinese food. She threw Jake out after he helped get all my stuff from my car, and I hate to say it, but it’s actually been a really great afternoon so far. We get to know one another, and I give her the cliff notes about my mom and grandma, and thankfully she is happy to breeze right past my trauma, before I dive into the tales of my best friend Malorie, and how long Ben and I have been together. She listens intently and pours out just as much information about herself, until I feel like I have known her forever.

“I can’t believe your dad is Coach Locke,” she eventually says, and I take a subtle deep breath at her question, only to realize that this isn’t like being back at home.

No one here knows that I don’t have a close relationship with my dad, they don’t know my parents were high school sweethearts who got pregnant too young, and only broke up because they couldn’t make long distance work for them. My dad got a scholarship across the country that my mom wouldn’t let him turn down, while she stayed home and went to community college. My grandma helped her take care of me, and my dad always came to visit when I was young, but it wasn’t enough. Not that I ever felt his absence, he would always call and be there for the holidays, but we never managed to completely solidify our relationship.

Maybe now that it’s just us, things might be different?

“Jake plays for the Flyers, right?” I say in response, turning the attention back from me to her, and she nods.

In the last few hours I have learned that unlike me, she isn’t a freshman, and that she and Jake have been dating for almost three years. He loves her, hockey, and horror films, and she loves him, musicals, and watching him play hockey, and I kind of get the vibe that they are perfect for one another.

“Yes, he wants to coach one day so he practically idolizes your dad,” she replies wistfully, and I smile even though my chest aches.

It’s always the same. Every boy I grew up with would ooh and ahh when they found out my dad was an NHL player-turned-coach, and they were always more interested in him than me. On the flip side of that, I’m sure my dad wishes he was blessed with a son instead of a daughter, someone he could have shared his passion with. Unlike me, who despite attending many games over the years, doesn’t have a clue about most of the rules, or cares about anything hockey entails.

“At least I have someone to attend games with now,” she adds, cutting into my inner self pity party. “I’ve recently been joined by a couple of the players' girlfriends, but you wouldn’t believe how many I had to attend alone until Maddie and Hallie came along. Bree, it was a total nightmare.”

“Oh, well, actually I don’t really like hockey to be honest,” I reply sheepishly, and she almost drops her fork as she turns to stare at me in shock.

“Tell me you're kidding?” she gasps, and when I shake my head I swear her jaw drops even more. “But, what’s not to like? There are hot guys, uniforms, big sticks, fights, did I mention hot guys? And don’t even get me started on the stretching.”

I snort a laugh, more than immune to everything she has just described thanks to growing up around plenty of teams due to my dad. “They’re not that hot, it’s the uniforms,” I toss back with a roll of my eyes, and she shakes her head again.

“Then clearly you’ve never been to a Flyers game. All of them are like underwear models on skates,” she blurts, shoving some noodles into her mouth, and I snort a laugh.

She’s right of course, I have never been to a Fairfield U game.

When my dad got a job here a few years ago, I only came here for a few weeks in the summer, and by that time Fairfield University was done with classes. It’s the only time my dad has managed a team where I haven’t seen them play, or met some of the players at some point or another, but it feels weird to admit that. The rest of my downtime was always spent with Ben, and he is as far from a jock as you can get. He graduated a year ago, instantly becoming a youth pastor at our local church, and at one point I understood the vision he had for his life, but now I’m not so sure.

Evie and I talk back and forth some more as we finish dinner, but then much to her dismay, I pull myself away from the sofa so I can start unpacking. My room is bigger than expected, with a queen bed against one wall and a small walk-in closet on another, and once I start filling it with my belongings it starts to feel a little more like mine. By the time the sun sets, I have most of my boxes collapsed and on a shelf in my closet, and nearly all of my things are settled neatly in my new home. It feels kind of weird considering I spent most of my life in the same bedroom, and when that familiar constant burn in my chest threatens to turn into a full-blown inferno, I quickly grab my phone to distract myself.

I have text messages from my dad asking how I settled in and inviting me to dinner tomorrow night, and a couple from Ben and Malorie, who both send some form of the same picture as they enjoy our usual ritual of Saturday night dinner together. The pain in my chest intensifies as I take in their wide smiles, as if my absence isn’t even notable to them, and I quickly shut off my phone and open my laptop instead.

My new schedule was sent to me last week, and it’s pretty intense compared to what I’m used to. It will be hard to keep up, but I know I can’t let my dad down. He pulled so many strings to get me in here as a mid-term freshman transfer, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I don’t fail him. Evie and I have already discovered we share a business class twice a week, and though according to her she isn’t great at the class, she offered to help me if I need it, which I probably will.

The rest of my night is spent reading overviews of the topics that are going to be covered in all my classes, in an attempt to get a grip on them, and ignoring Ben’s multiple texts, especially when he starts sending me Bible passages that he thinks will ‘help me’. By the time I fall asleep I am feeling more out of sorts than ever, with only one thought in my mind.

How will I ever feel at home here?