River hopped out of his pickup, grabbing his tool bag before closing the truck door. He usually took Sundays off, but when Tanner called him up about a repair emergency, River drove over without hesitation. He had never been the type to turn down a friend in need. The handyman strolled through the entrance to Forge, heading towards the back when he spotted Tanner. "Your savior has arrived." River playfully jested, dropping his tool bag on the floor. He rolled up his sleeves, gazing around the open space. "What seems to be the issue today?"
"I'll let that slide," Tanner easily jested with a light chuckle, "because today you really are kind of saving my ass. If you can fix it that is." Sunday was never an ideal day to call someone in for service needs and she was thankful her friend was available even if Tanner had expected River to tell her he'd be by the next day. "So, ever since the whiteout," she began, leading him toward the back, "the water heater has been acting up. I tried fixing it myself but it's turning out to be too big of a project and it's putting me behind on my projects and I have a big week coming up with the amount of classes."
Qui sighed in frustration as her eyes scanned the diner. Every single seat was taken. She was ravenously craving some blueberry pancakes and was hoping to enjoy them at the diner, instead of taking them to go. Qui had a busy day at the studio that would likely keep her there into the night. This breakfast would be her one chance today to enjoy a little moment to herself. Just as she was considering the idea of going somewhere else, Qui spotted someone sitting in a booth by themselves. Intruding on a stranger's breakfast wasn't on her Bingo card this morning, but she was short on time.. and hungry. Qui casually strolled over to their table, softly clearing her throat. "Excuse me, are you eating alone? I was hoping to grab some breakfast before work and I'm on a bit of a time crunch here. Would you mind if I sat with you?"
At this point in her life she couldn't blame her mother for her inability to cook. By now she could've learned and over time become quite good at it. Senna simply never really made the effort in the kitchen. There were a few things she could cook well, though usually she and Ethan were ordering takeout. On her way to the country club a little later this morning Senna made a point on stopping in stacks to get their legendary breakfast. Okay, perhaps that was a stretch, the diner as a whole wasn't so remarkable but they did the pancakes very well. She was chewing a bit when a voice pulled her eyes up from the paper beside her plate. "Oh, yes," Senna gestured across from her, "please have a seat. I don't mind at all." Blue eyes moved about, she'd been so engrossed in her current events reading that she hadn't noticed the morning rush fill in. "Service is pretty good and fast. Especially with the pancakes so hopefully you'll make it to work in time."
"Go for it," Kira smirked, dimples still on display before taking another sip of her drink. Even if she knew it was an easy guess... that was the whole point, wasn't it? As she looked over at the older gorgeous blonde her dark eyes fixed on the cocktail the woman was nursing. It looked good. "What is that? I love the colors." It surely made her hot chocolate seem dull. As the woman answered however Kira felt a certain kinship. "You know, I should've done what you have and stopped for a drink first. That likely would've elevated the experience. I can't say it over all solved any problems but I definitely feel a bit lighter. It's crazy how it all really starts coming out once you get started." In fact, Kira was pretty sure she saw a woman with tears in her eyes when finished.
"It's called a Transfusion," Senna informed with a smile, her fingers turned the plastic cup around. The grape juice that sat on top slowly floated down and colored the rest of the drink. "Nothing extraordinary, really. A popular drink at golf courses," and lord knew she'd been board at one too many of those over the years, "vodka, ginger ale, and a splash of grape juice." With a simper on her lips she pushed the drink toward the edge of her table in offer. "Want to give it a taste?" Senna had her doubts on any of the smash/rage rooms actually solving any problems yet as she listened to Kira she could see it's benefits. Perhaps the issues weren't resolved but the release of pent up emotions and feelings could be so freeing. "It's probably more pure the way you engaged. Seems like there was a lot to work out for you. If I get started I might not be able to stop." A smile curved her lips and there was a twinkle in her eyes. "At least not until my arms fell off." There was so much she still held onto.
When she'd sent the text to Daniela after the power had been restored and the worst of the storm vacated from the area Tanner hadn't really expected much of a response. It was a check in, her mind had still been reeling on their encounter, on very specific things said between them, and the olive branch extended wasn't without trepidation. Some of that feeling was the fear of exposing herself. How embarrassing would it be to reach out and thus convey you still care if her ex really had no intentions of ever interacting with her again?
The fact that they not only had an easy exchange, mostly about how they'd managed through the whiteout, but had ended up making plans for a little later in the week had completely surprised Tanner. It was now that Saturday, she'd had breakfast and had been antsy ever since, awaiting @dcsiderivm to show or bail when it came to following through on helping Tanner with the little bits of damage the storm had done to her garage. The door to the two car garage had been opened up and Tanner bundled for the cold. What needed to be done was clear the left wall of her neatly kept garage of its organized storage so that the full damage could be assessed.
In seeing Daniela's car pull up outside Tanner waved from the open garage and had a faint smile threatening to display on her lips. "Hey, thanks for coming," she'd called out when her ex had gotten out of her vehicle. "It's pretty cold," a light chuckle bubbled up, "want some coffee?"
Something Tanner understood was that sometimes people felt such immense guilt that they wanted the offended party to hate them, to wish evil upon them, maybe even bestow some form of punishment on them. "I hate what you did—your actions, your selfishness, your cowardice," she volleyed back, a flat look on her face that eventually softened, "but—" That but was the big problem in Tanner's life. "One horrific thing doesn't change all the good that was once between us." And that string of truth was likely the answer to why this encounter had been so emotionally charged. Nostalgia was often called a dirty liar for looking back with rose colored glasses, yet Tanner had known one thing for certain—she'd never loved anyone the way she did Daniela.
Today was a red flag for Tanner. It was a display of just how much she hadn't go and moved on despite it having been a year since their breakup. Regardless of how it had gone down and the specifics of it, never minding all the comments over how much she'd changed in the last year, she'd hidden herself in her heartbreak. When her ex shook her head and wouldn't allow her to apologize a smile slightly curved her lips. It was more like a ghost—something you weren't quite sure of seeing. "It's all just hitting me right now. Different waves of emotions." That time she didn't refute Dani's sincerity. "Getting answers, or an explanation, helps. My mind went wild the last year and," turned Tanner into hating the world.
Hurt people hurt people. Her own guilt couldn't be assuaged over how once she'd been broken she'd become calloused to other's feelings. Often burdening them with a wrath they hadn't earned. The humorless chuckle pulled Tanner astray from the path her rumination was headed down. "It's crazy how we couldn't see a big picture then. How it was easier to avoid and let a divide grow between us." Maybe it had something to do with the fact that her family, even Dani's had been well-meaning in their encouragements and their excitement for what they saw in a future between the two women. Everything her ex had said landed somewhere and there was much to think about. "It's hard to know, I think." Her booted foot toed a crack in the alley asphalt as her hands rested lazily in her pockets. "I get it. Sometimes we don't know what we're doing and the ripple effect of those actions when we're in the thick of it." A sigh released and Tanner held a hand up between them. "Look, I'm not blaming the downfall of our relationship and everything that went wrong with it all on you. I'm aware it takes two. It's the break up. It's the someone else." After looking away for a moment her eyes found Dani's once again. "I just need you to know that—if you were unaware."
All the explanations, reasons, and apologies a year later left Tanner feeling unmoved by it all. Perhaps she was numb. It was much to process. Through the thick of it there had been a big word shared between them: love. And once uttered they both avoided it like a poisonous snake. Maybe what they had genuinely needed was time and space from the situation, because now that Tanner had shoved her anger aside to have as much of a conversation as possible she was chewing over and digesting every bit of information. "Thank you for acknowledging that," she said calmly and sincerely despite a flash of heat that surfaced on her neck and cheeks at the allusion of this other person that had come between them. Part of her wanted to ask if this person was here with Dani, or if they would follow. If they'd broken up—why? These questions rolled through her thoughts despite how much the answers could hurt and anger her. It felt sick to even wonder these sorts of things. Some part of Tanner's heart still held a silent claim on her ex, that had to be the reason.
Then unasked questions were answered and a swell of relief washed through Tanner. Given the state of things it felt like a best case scenario outcome of this encounter. Tanner listened and nodded, stoic on the outside, acknowledging that Dani was no longer with the person she'd left with. That being around Tanner was just as hard for Dani, that she wasn't moved on either. Hope didn't spring in her chest, at least things weren't as bad as they could be. "No, I get why you came back—this is your hometown, too. And, well, your family," she swallowed and the pause was a moment of respect for her ex's loss. "I just don't want us to be childish. I don't want to be at war with you or pulling immature moves if we see each other around. We're not teenagers." If they happened at the same place, same time in the future it likely wouldn't be easy but they could each be mature about it, right? A bit of conversation gave Tanner some comforts and made things a little less intense in comparison to when she first saw Dani. "Yeah, I think we need some time to think. I'm not going to lay some ground rules on you or play games, I don't have the patience for it. I think we can be mindful in the least, though." Then, it was out before she could stop it, "my number hasn't changed if you need or want to talk about things."
Hearing Tanner, of all people, giving her a bit of grace, at least for her character overall, was..surprising, yet awfully desired after all this time. Sure, Daniela had done something horrendous and hurt the one person she'd never dreamed of hurting, but it didn't erase every other good thing about her. It overshadowed the good times she'd had with her ex, but it didn't quite change the fact that before that incident, their time together had been relatively amazing, and she just needed to be reminded of that. Trying not to relish in that small victory too much right now, she mindlessly studied Tanner's facial features as she let the woman continue speaking. Even while dealing with a range of emotions stemming from this encounter, her ex was still breathtaking, and damn if those dimples weren't still one of her favorite things about her.
Snapping back to reality at the mention of their poor choice in handling their problems, Dani sighed as she nodded in agreement. "I guess us not having any real relationship experience beforehand kind of left us scrambling to figure things out, and we just made the wrong decision." She'd replayed the crumbling of their relationship so many times now that she could recall all of the little things, the ways they ran from their problems or simply pushed things aside and only focused on work instead, and how they'd let other people try to push them into taking the next steps before they were even ready to sit down and talk about them. That had certainly been one of the main problems for them, and she hated how much it spooked them and gave them a reason to start avoiding one another. When Tanner pointed out the obvious, what had really broke her, Dani felt that guilt rising up yet again. "I was very aware, and hearing you say it out loud makes me feel even shittier, but I deserve that. And I'm sorry. Truly." If she could take it all back, Dani wouldn't hesitate to do just that, but since she couldn't, all she could do was keep apologizing. Though for now, it was starting to get a bit redundant, probably because they'd gone from somewhat fighting to now being more civilized, and this had been a lot to process so she knew they had to give each other some time.
Revealing that her and the lover who had come between her and Tanner was no longer in the picture hadn't been planned, but for some reason, Dani had felt like clearing the air there might help them...move forward? Remain civil? She didn't quite know, but it was out there now, and maybe it would provide a little comfort for Tanner to know that she wouldn't have to worry about seeing the pair around town together. As her ex seemed to change her stance on how to handle them running into each other in town again following this encounter, she smiled softly. Avoiding Tanner cost far too much energy, so Dani wasn't keen on having to do it forever. She wasn't expecting the offer to reach out to her ex should she need something though, and she was sure that the stunned expression on her face proved that. "Oh, uh..okay." She nodded her head slowly, letting her brain fully process it before she pulled her shit back together.
"I promise I'll handle myself better if we run into one another again. And if you feel the need to snap at me, I'll refrain from biting back and let you get it out of your system." She promised. It would be hard, sure, but she'd swallow her pride and deal with it. "Tell your parents I said hello...and that I'm really sorry for hurting their daughter." She stated before giving the woman a gentle smile. "You look beautiful, by the way. Not that you don't always look beautiful, but even under today's circumstances, you're still the most beautiful woman I've ever met." She shrugged. "And the phone thing works both ways, so if you need anything, or just want to chew me out, my number is still the same." And with that, Dani spun around and finally walked out of the alley, feeling a bit more relieved now that she'd gotten to formally apologize and give her ex the explanation she'd deserved since day one.
Ethan didn’t answer right away . His fingers ran idly over the marble, tracing an invisible pattern as he listened to the wind outside shift, the faint howl slipping through the cracks of their Woodside home. The storm had been rolling in since sunset , thick clouds swallowing the last of the daylight until the sky was nothing but a churning mass of dark. Now , the wind had picked up, rattling the branches outside, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled low and mean .
It made him uneasy—not the storm itself but what it meant. A change in the air , something building and waiting to break. It was how the markets had felt today , too, right before everything went to hell. The weight of it still sat heavy in his chest, his body carrying the loss like an old injury that never quite healed.
And then there was Senna, standing in front of him, offering a quiet kind of peace in the form of puzzles and a bottle of wine. He almost didn’t know what to do with it.
He let out a breath, shifting his weight against the counter. “Alright. ” he said, voice quieter now. “ Morning it is .” He didn’t fight her on the coffee. What was the point? He’d only be staring at the ceiling all night anyway, the numbers still running through his head , but at least this way, he wouldn’t be doing it alone.
His eyes flicked toward the window, where the glass reflected the occasional flash of lightning. “ You should grab a bottle, ” he added, the corner of his mouth tugging upward just slightly. “ Something decent, but not the ’98. If the power goes out, I’m not wasting good wine on a candlelit disaster. ”
His attempt at humor was light, but the tension hadn’t fully left him. It was there in the way he ran a hand down his face, in the way his shoulders still carried the weight of the day. But then he looked at her, really looked, and there was something familiar in the way she waited—offering, not pushing.
He exhaled slowly, nodding toward the living room. “ Alright, let’s do the sofa.” A pause. “ And… I’ll take my chances with a puzzle. He glanced at her, the ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth. “ Hell, if it’s one of those artsy ones where all the pieces look the same, I might just fake a power outage and call it an act of God. ”
It felt foreign, this—choosing to meet her halfway , making the choice to not retreat . But as the storm outside grew , wind rattling the windows and rain beginning to drum against the glass , he figured maybe , just for tonight , he could try.
It was painstaking waiting for forgiveness. Something that two years later Senna should understand wasn't likely to come. Does it really take this long? Rebuilding trust, sure, that was understandable. The way her husband looked at her sometimes resembled the freezing temperatures outside. His body stiffened and tensed, remained coiled as though he were braced for a fight at any moment.
Those winds outside slammed and whipped around the massive Beachwood home. Senna hadn't even noticed the weather had turned so bad. Her attention had been too preoccupied elsewhere. The way it whistled and howled by at 35 mph, an inky blackness filled with a hazy white, couldn't go unnoticed now as she looked out the window.
When the lights flickered the blonde breathed a sigh in and out of her nose slowly as her blue eyes looked up at the fixture hanging over the marble island. If the power went out—it was going to get much quieter in this house. It was already unbearably loud, that silence. "I'll grab the 2004 then," Senna quipped, a spot of humor playing on her lips as she began to edge out of the room to find her way to the cellar while they still were capable of walking around without feeling the first settlers of this land.
"A candlelit dinner, though," she paused and leaned against the passage frame once again, "we might have to actually cook ourselves." Senna's chin lifted to direct his gaze out the big kitchen window. "I can't imagine I can get to pick up a pizza nor delivery make it here with it snowing that heavily outside." It was beginning to look pretty bad. A southerner at heart found it eerily beautiful but utterly terrifying. "Was there anything in that fridge worthy of making?"
Despite his hesitations and his careful consideration, Senna glanced in the direction of said sofa, off in another room yet an easily imagined scene—it felt promising. She'd never imagined progress being this slow. Of course, the blonde should've been accustomed to longterm penance. "I think an act of god is already on its way, though I suppose, regardless, I could let you pick the puzzle." On her own lips she wore a hinted tease.
"Why don't I grab the wine and scrounge up the candles while you pick a puzzle and grab a couple of flashlights from the garage or wherever you keep them. When we meet up back here I'll make us some dinner hopefully before the lord strikes."
"I know this was a political move by the mayor but I feel like I should say thanks for footing the bill for my free therapy session." Kira wore a dimpled grin as she sipped her hot chocolate. Even if she could've easily afforded it for whatever reason the whole scheme of things pulled her out and had her going straight for the rage room at Action Avenue. The advertisement had listed many things but considering how life had been going as of late it practically spoke to her soul. "Are you having fun?"
"Can I make a guess on where you've been?" With a simper of her own Senna arched a brow at the younger woman. When she'd read the advertisements one of the things that had stood out to her was the rage rooms. What lies beneath the surface of a woman like Senna, someone who'd had to adapt into a chameleon-like life to escape the horrors, was quite a lot of rage. It was too bad they didn't have wine here at the food court within Action Avenue, they did have one of her favorite cocktails though and that was a win. "Not really," she somewhat grinned against the rim of her Transfusion before sipping. "But I haven't really gotten started yet," Senna tacked on when she'd set her drink down. "This isn't really my scene but I was drawn in by that whole free therapy thing."
Now that both of their tempers had started to cool, Daniela let out a couple of breaths as she listened to Tanner. Honestly, it was starting to seem like everything she said was wrong in one way or another, and even when she was trying not to let her ex's justified anger and hurt get her to respond back with her usual snark, she felt like she wasn't doing a great job at any of this. But when the other woman confirmed that she didn't harbor any ill-will towards her, or none as significant as wanting her to fall off the face of the Earth, she felt a little relieved. "You should hate me, you know?" She muttered, though that wasn't even what she wanted.
As much as this entire encounter unfolding the way that it had wasn't on her bingo card, she was relieved to finally be getting this all out now. They'd both clearly been holding onto the unspoken words, and emotions, for far too long, and if this helped Tanner heal and move on, then she'd do anything to give her ex that conclusion. But when Tanner started apologizing for her part in the turmoil today, she instantly shook her head. "Don't. You don't owe me an apology for being hurt and letting it dictate how you've responded to me just showing back up." Dani stated, and she hoped that her ex could sense just how sincere she was being this time.
Running a hand through her hair, she knew that the topic of their parents and the pressure that drove a wedge between them was super touchy, but it had been the start of their problems so it made sense. Since coming back to town, her mami had questioned if it had been too much, if both families had pushed them before they were ready, and she'd fallen short of knowing how to answer it without putting that small burden on a grieving woman. but when Tanner explained her response to said pressure, Dani couldn't help but chuckle dryly. "We both handled the pressure poorly, that's for sure." It wasn't exactly comical in the grand scheme of things, but looking back on it now, simply discussing it and even asking their parents to cool it might have helped them resolve things. "I think that is when we stopped talking. We threw ourselves into work so we wouldn't have to talk about it, or face the reality that everyone was expecting a wedding and whatnot sooner than we apparently were ready for. And I don't know why I didn't tell you that I needed more than the distance that inevitably grew between us. I don't even think I realized it at the time..." Dani inhaled, and then instantly exhaled a deep breath when she knew what was about to come next.
Luckily the other woman spoke up first, and the Latina hated that after everything she'd done to hurt her, Tanner was somehow giving her a bit of grace in terms of her character. In her opinion, she was a terrible person, whether she'd meant for lines to get blurred or not. But she was certain that her brain short circuited when her ex said that she loved her — it went from past tense to present? Or was Tanner just meaning that was how she had felt at the time? Deciding that she didn't need to ask for clarification right now, Dani focused on what was more important. "You're absolutely right. I should have come clean as soon as things changed, and I'm sorry that I didn't. Things just escalated quicker than I was prepared for." Dani hated how much that sounded like a pathetic excuse, even if it were true.
How Tanner was somehow being the bigger person now, Daniela didn't know, but it made her feel a range of emotions about it. She hated seeing what her actions had done to the other woman, but as her ex pointed out, pain did have a way of altering people. Taking in everything else that followed, the guilt she felt seemed to expand by the time Tanner was finished. "You have every right to talk to me however you want. I'll just be better prepared next time." Or so she hoped she would be anyway. "But you don't have to worry about seeing some moved on version of me. I'm not — I came home alone. And being back here around you isn't exactly easy for me either. But I meant it when I said I didn't come back to hurt you or make this any harder for you." She repeated, mostly so her ex would believe it. "Today has been a lot, so how about I give you some space for a few days? You can figure out what you need from me, or how much space you want, and I'll respect it."
Something Tanner understood was that sometimes people felt such immense guilt that they wanted the offended party to hate them, to wish evil upon them, maybe even bestow some form of punishment on them. "I hate what you did—your actions, your selfishness, your cowardice," she volleyed back, a flat look on her face that eventually softened, "but—" That but was the big problem in Tanner's life. "One horrific thing doesn't change all the good that was once between us." And that string of truth was likely the answer to why this encounter had been so emotionally charged. Nostalgia was often called a dirty liar for looking back with rose colored glasses, yet Tanner had known one thing for certain—she'd never loved anyone the way she did Daniela.
Today was a red flag for Tanner. It was a display of just how much she hadn't go and moved on despite it having been a year since their breakup. Regardless of how it had gone down and the specifics of it, never minding all the comments over how much she'd changed in the last year, she'd hidden herself in her heartbreak. When her ex shook her head and wouldn't allow her to apologize a smile slightly curved her lips. It was more like a ghost—something you weren't quite sure of seeing. "It's all just hitting me right now. Different waves of emotions." That time she didn't refute Dani's sincerity. "Getting answers, or an explanation, helps. My mind went wild the last year and," turned Tanner into hating the world.
Hurt people hurt people. Her own guilt couldn't be assuaged over how once she'd been broken she'd become calloused to other's feelings. Often burdening them with a wrath they hadn't earned. The humorless chuckle pulled Tanner astray from the path her rumination was headed down. "It's crazy how we couldn't see a big picture then. How it was easier to avoid and let a divide grow between us." Maybe it had something to do with the fact that her family, even Dani's had been well-meaning in their encouragements and their excitement for what they saw in a future between the two women. Everything her ex had said landed somewhere and there was much to think about. "It's hard to know, I think." Her booted foot toed a crack in the alley asphalt as her hands rested lazily in her pockets. "I get it. Sometimes we don't know what we're doing and the ripple effect of those actions when we're in the thick of it." A sigh released and Tanner held a hand up between them. "Look, I'm not blaming the downfall of our relationship and everything that went wrong with it all on you. I'm aware it takes two. It's the break up. It's the someone else." After looking away for a moment her eyes found Dani's once again. "I just need you to know that—if you were unaware."
All the explanations, reasons, and apologies a year later left Tanner feeling unmoved by it all. Perhaps she was numb. It was much to process. Through the thick of it there had been a big word shared between them: love. And once uttered they both avoided it like a poisonous snake. Maybe what they had genuinely needed was time and space from the situation, because now that Tanner had shoved her anger aside to have as much of a conversation as possible she was chewing over and digesting every bit of information. "Thank you for acknowledging that," she said calmly and sincerely despite a flash of heat that surfaced on her neck and cheeks at the allusion of this other person that had come between them. Part of her wanted to ask if this person was here with Dani, or if they would follow. If they'd broken up—why? These questions rolled through her thoughts despite how much the answers could hurt and anger her. It felt sick to even wonder these sorts of things. Some part of Tanner's heart still held a silent claim on her ex, that had to be the reason.
Then unasked questions were answered and a swell of relief washed through Tanner. Given the state of things it felt like a best case scenario outcome of this encounter. Tanner listened and nodded, stoic on the outside, acknowledging that Dani was no longer with the person she'd left with. That being around Tanner was just as hard for Dani, that she wasn't moved on either. Hope didn't spring in her chest, at least things weren't as bad as they could be. "No, I get why you came back—this is your hometown, too. And, well, your family," she swallowed and the pause was a moment of respect for her ex's loss. "I just don't want us to be childish. I don't want to be at war with you or pulling immature moves if we see each other around. We're not teenagers." If they happened at the same place, same time in the future it likely wouldn't be easy but they could each be mature about it, right? A bit of conversation gave Tanner some comforts and made things a little less intense in comparison to when she first saw Dani. "Yeah, I think we need some time to think. I'm not going to lay some ground rules on you or play games, I don't have the patience for it. I think we can be mindful in the least, though." Then, it was out before she could stop it, "my number hasn't changed if you need or want to talk about things."
"You're not? Could've fooled me. You're whole vibe screams tranquility and calm," he spun a hand in a quick lopping motion in her general direction, "very zen." Felipe shrugged at her question, "Depends if you think hooking up with a woman is important. They've been on again off again for months now, though, so I guess he can get a pass?" he narrowed his eyes at her as he took another drink of his beer, "I think I just need to watch what I say around other people. Especially those that like to jump to conclusions so quickly. Have you ever been skydiving?"
"I'm a modern marvel of serenity," Tanner tacked onto his sarcasm. "A real study in peace." The rage within her was more of an internal war. That whole head versus heart thing. It'd been a year since Dani had left and shattered that beating thing hidden in her ribcage, and Tanner had tried and failed in convincing herself that the anger she'd held onto and let spill out onto other people was because she'd turned hopeless and faithless. "I'd say it's pretty important," she half shrugged and sipped on the beer in front of her, "especially if his thing with her is on and off. Means he's not lucky enough to get it regularly." For some reason his comment amused her and Tanner turned her attention toward him. "Who's jumping to conclusions?" Maybe it had been her delivery, as was often the case, but she'd only been jesting about the whole thing. "I haven't and I'm not exactly wild about the idea of jumping out of a plane. I'm not the biggest fan of heights," she explained needlessly. It wasn't a full-on fear, more of an aversion. "How about you?"
Ethan’s jaw clenched, fingertips drumming an even cadence against the marble counter. His mind was still reeling from the bloodbath in the markets earlier — one of those days that gave your gut a knot and your phone a flurry of angry calls. He’d lost a crapload of money, not just his own but a sizable amount of what a handful of VIP clients had entrusted him with. The type who calculated trust in returns and didn’t forgive losses.
But Ethan wasn’t panicking. Not yet. He had a plan to come back, and it was a good one. It was a calculated risk, but that was his game. He’d short the right positions tomorrow morning and do a couple of pointed plays overseas with an emphasis on emerging markets. His gut instinct said the rebound was on the way, and if he got it right, he would recoup everything and more.
He always did. Nevertheless, the weight of it stayed over him, making everything heavier — the air, the conversation, their crumbling marriage, even down to the way he mindlessly lurked in their kitchen.
He blinked, regaining the present as the elevated tension he thought he heard in Senna's voice pulled him from the black hole of trades and losses. The suggestion of pizza or takeout hovered there like something larger, something neither of them actually wanted to name. Ethan folded his arms and leaned back a little. The urge to retreat from the pettiness, start an actual conversation, make an actual effort to get past the hell they were living had passed just as quickly as the thought arrived.
"You're right...I wasn't really thinking about food, but I could eat. I need to eat."There was a flash of something softer in his voice, and for one second he saw the man he was before it all got so fucking complicated. "Let's do it. Antonio's sounds good. Hell let's go crazy and get some of those deep fried mushrooms too." Then he hesitated, sensing the change in her voice — how she was already disengaging, releasing him from something that felt too big to say out loud. He wondered how many times they’d had this kind of exchange, this half-dance of reaching and retreating. Too many, he thought.
“I could eat here,” he said, more slowly, more measured now. "With you." His eyes held hers for a beat too long, as if it were a challenge — or perhaps even a truce. He let that linger for a moment and then added, “Or I could take it to the office if that’s what you’d prefer.” He sighed inwardly, making a genuine effort to soften his tone, knowing he could sound sharp even if that had not been his intent. "Up to you, Senna. Do you want to place the order or should I?”
He moved to make some espresso knowing it was going to be one of those nights. Tired eyes shifted from Senna to the Jura Giga. In another life he would have asked her to navigate the complicated, expensive machine. Preparing it for him the way he remembered back at their old house would have been like a warm hug, but he couldn't find the resolve to ask after the less than stellar way he'd been acting toward his wife.
Since the affair had been revealed and since her hospital stay relations between husband and wife had been understandably cold, tense even, and Senna never blamed Ethan for the distance that opened up between them. She would've been angry, hurt, and had've felt betrayed if roles had been reversed. The fact that he hadn't left her, thrown down a nasty divorce—well, that said something. Though, after these last couple of years since they'd left the east coast and made home here in Woodside, Senna had wondered if that hope that she'd held onto had been falsely placed.
The aftermath of catastrophic damage took time to restore. That wasn't the issue that lingered between them. Senna would give him even more years if that's what it took to fully gain her husband back. It was the stagnancy that bothered her and forced her to question. They were in this weird, awkward, tense place that didn't move forward. Isn't it true that no progression is actually regression?
"Okay," a flash of a good vibe brightened her expression at Ethan's softened tone and encouragement to get the pizzas and some extras. "I'm going to get some garlic bread too," Senna tacked on, her iPhone pulled from her back pocket and set on the marble between them. As usual Senna would likely eat only a slice of the pie and then munch mostly on the garlic bread. The way she looked at him now, decidedly not flinching or questioning the show of effort and care in his voice, was with a slight curve to her lips and twinkling in her eyes. "I'll make the order. Should I—," Senna hesitated, not wanting to overdo it, "grab a bottle of wine from the cellar? Or we can make some cocktails. Unless you just want some soda or something." A shrug of her petite shoulders moments before she pulled up Antonio's information on her phone and put it on speaker to call in the delivery order.
Once she was off the line and their order was promised to their door in thirty minutes, she set her device back onto the island and leaned forward onto it. "Why don't we eat on the sofa? There's that DiVinci documentary we could put on," she suggested, though she wouldn't mind just sitting with some conversation. The offerings of wine or cocktails had been on the chance that the alcohol could soften the edges a little and aid the flow of words between them. "Or we could pull out a puzzle. I got two new ones the other day." Once more her lips curved in tenderness, though a little more prominent at one corner of her mouth. Puzzles had always been one of her favorite hobbies. They were relaxing in that they quieted and focused the brain, then exercised the machinery in her head in a different way.
When Senna saw her husband going for the espresso maker she joined him there in front of the machine. "I've got it," she offered and glanced up at him, "what do you want?" There was his favorite that she knew, though now that might have changed—maybe there was some aversion because it brought about painful memories. "Might I suggest waiting until morning," Senna said with her hands on the machine. "I can get up with you and make you one then. You getting some sleep tonight would be a good thing. You look beat, Eeth."
Zuri chuckled while tapping her fingers on the cart’s handle as she considered his question. "Depends on the name? Probably, especially if we’re talking best case disaster." She shot him a knowing look, eyes bright with mischief. "If he played the assistant card though? Bold move. Not a smart one, but bold."
She shook her head with mock solemness. "Crawling back from that level of damage? Not impossible but it might take some drastic groveling. And even then, you’re probably just upgrading from ‘exile’ to ‘permanent probation.’ Would I forgive?" Zuri tilted her head, pretending to mull it over before offering a playful shrug. "That's tough, but it depend on how convincing the gifts-- come correct or not at all," she reasoned without an ounce of shame.
Her smirk widened at his admission. "Attorney? Makes sense. You’ve got that 'calm under pressure' thing going on. She paused, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Me? Not at all. Just someone with a front-row seat to enough train wrecks to recognize the patterns. You pick up a few observation tactics along the way," she grinned. "Have I talked your ear off yet?" She was actually enjoying the random flow of banter, but offered a lifeline all the same in case the stranger wanted to escape her antics.
"But does it work?" Amos questioned with conspiratorial grin as an index finger directed her way as though the point rested right there. "I've heard some incredibly insane explanations and confessions, reasons on why people do the things they do, and they're still surprisingly forgiven." Ocean eyes traveled the distance from where they stood as spectators to the couple having a very public spat. The male was talking fast and using his hands quite a lot. Clearly he was in excuses mode and laying down quite a story.
"That's the problem, right?" The simper sat locked and loaded on his lips, amusement gleamed in his eyes—always playing advocate for the devil, wasn't he? "He didn't come correct and now he's in damage control. Something tells me he'll lick his wounds only for a short while. This doesn't seem like a first time." The energy, something in the way he was reading them, mostly the woman had conveyed that to Amos. "She's likely seen a woman's name on his phone before. The way he's explaining—this is something he's practiced in."
At her observation Amos nodded his head slowly, taking in and appreciating her musings on what she saw of him. "Interesting. What is it you do then? There's something investigative about you." It was more than having been witness to this type of drama more than a few times. There was something deeper in her measurement. "Not at all, I've been enjoying this," he grinned some, then gestured with his thumb somewhere vaguely in the direction of the exit, "I was going to see if you wanted to grab a coffee. I'm Amos." Hand to chest, he introduced.
A long day at the veterinary clinic sent Ceyda to The Penalty Box post work. She had dropped June off at home and fed her dinner after having spent all day at the clinic together, but then she went to the local bar to get a drink. Ceyda slipped into seemingly the last stool, an apologetic look on her face as she realized that the other person might have been holding it. "Shoot," she breathed the word aloud, "I'm so sorry, I had tunnel vision for the last open seat. Were you saving this for someone?" Ceyda questioned, almost poised to get back up and leave if the person was.
Would it be strange to admit that Chiyo liked the ambiance of the sports bar? Does anyone enjoy the ambiance of any bar? With games on screens and people yelling and cheering in the background, it provided a white noise that she found soothing. After a day of recording her throat was tired and most people didn't try to strike up conversations with her hear. Maybe she gave off the vibe of not knowing her way around sports. It was a gift to be able to publicly disassociate in peace. Chiyo smiled at the new arrival and shook her head, dismissing the question. "You're in luck! The person just left. His team not only lost. he was also getting some angry texts from his wife." They might have even passed each other at the doorway. "If you're looking for someone to chat about the sports with then I'm sorry to inform you of your bad luck," Chiyo offered in good humor.
Growing up in Woodside, Michigan meant being the bridge between two cultures. Chiyo's parents had immigrated from Japan to Detroit for an engineering position that was only supposed to be a temporary stay. Two, maybe three years at most and her father would move on from his position and return to Tokyo. Then something else happened right around the two year mark, when they'd been telling their family back home that they were soon starting the preparations for the move back—Chiyo's mother received a job offer at Woodside College.
In Tokyo, before they'd moved to Midwest America the newly wedded Mori family was divided. Her mother had only recently settled into her teaching position, while her father was starved for opportunity and a chance at being a part of something bigger than corporate Japan. She gave everything up in support of him, so it had become his turn to return the favor. The offer she'd received in Woodside was to teach the Japanese language as well as history and culture. How could she resist?
Some two years into their stay in Woodside, her father only visiting on the weekends from Detroit, Chiyo was welcomed into the world. Life for her was growing up as a child amongst all of her American friends while her mother tried her best to instill the Japanese customs, culture, and way of life. It meant speaking one language at home and with her family, then another in every other aspect of her life. It meant not knowing what to do with or how to appreciate the history within her own background.
When she was 13 Chiyo suffered the loss of her father. He'd been overcome with a layoff and the failures to provide for his family. The pressure her mother had put on him in finding a job had turned him inward, and one attempt when they'd been in Tokyo had turned into a success when back in Woodside. It had followed some lies he'd told in trying to no longer be a disappointment to his wife, he'd lied about a new job and instead of going to work each day he went gambling. At first he was bringing home decent money, then he began to lose and lose, and then every day he left the house he'd just go sit on a park bench and waste the day. Like most girls she adored her father and in many ways he was one of her best friends, Chiyo took the loss hard and rather than getting to properly mourn her mother sent her away to Tokyo for boarding school. It was hell.
Even though there's pictures to prove her stay in Tokyo several times as a child, Chiyo doesn't remember much. Not until she was a teenager and visiting her nun grandmother who lived at temple in the mountains. A place her father had dropped her off to for an entire summer. Her grandmother was the first to notice and question Chiyo's scars, the ones she'd earned by being a transfer student in prior school years where she'd been forced into boarding school. It was her grandmother that was also the first to tell Chiyo where to put her anger, by handing her a notebook and pen.
By the time Chiyo was enrolled in Woodside College herself she'd already had notebooks full of journaling and poetry. A professor in her creative writing class had noticed her talent and encouraged her to enter into poetry contests, and though she did and won many, along with some awards before she'd even graduated, she'd never set out to be a writer. Chiyo wanted to be in broadcasting. She saw herself in radio or in podcasting, the dream was to be a storyteller, and it was something that would come true—she would just be telling other people's stories.
At 19 Chiyo published her first poetry book. It received outstanding reviews and sold well. The problem was being a poet didn't make her rich and it would be a few years before she was secure enough with her material to submit another book for publishing. In the meantime she had to make a living and when Chiyo had done the audiobook reading of her own first book an idea was born. With a communications background already in the works, it was an easy thing to fall into when it came to being a voice actress and narrator. She already had her foot in the door when it came to publishing. Those connections got her work.
With a day job as a narrator, reading and bringing to life the words of fellow writers, she sometimes struggled with finding her own voice in her writings. Chiyo enjoyed slam poetry readings and events, thrived socially on the art scene—and that was where she'd met what would become her most complicated relationship to date. One that, when looking back, she'd never want to return to. With an open sexuality and a foolishness toward love Chiyo was one of three in a polyamorous relationship. It was all fun in the beginning, the first year, maybe two, there was still that newness and excitement in having not one but two partners. Eventually dynamics began to shift and change. Jealousies and possessiveness reared it's ugly head and the relationship went toxic.
It'd been a hole to dig herself out of and she might even say she regrets having been in such a relationship, but it was troubling for Chiyo in the fact that she'd written some of her best work during those dark times. A few more poetry books under her belt, she'd won awards left and right, including a Pulitzer and a Nobel nomination. She'd made the best seller's lists and had cemented herself as a name in the world of poetry. All by the age of 30. The problem was there'd been no balance in her life, her career soared and her personal life put her through hell.
To this day, as she continues to record narratives and write in her notebooks, Chiyo struggles with any level of pride in her work. While readers see beauty in her words she sees her pain and battles through the life lived so far.
Somewhere along the way Senna Hartley ( once Johnston ) had fallen out of her tree and caught on a limb with silver lining. As much as she'd tried to escape her family while also juggling the responsibility of being a good big sister, she had to wonder—was it all really that bad? Had their mother truly been that ruthless, their father that complacent? Perhaps she'd been the weak one in vacating the nest and soaring the wilderness. Surely she hadn't imagined her own mother trying to pull her feathers out.
All these years her resemblance had been out there flying, while Senna's wings had been weighted with uncertainty. It'd filled her with pride that Willa had been strong enough in all the areas she'd failed. Even with half a year into her younger sister having made the move to Woodside, it was still a bit of a struggle for Senna to grasp that @willajohnston was within reach. There was the ability to drop by at anytime for a chat and cup of tea—and a long lost need to see who's really there.
"Oh, hi, good morning," her voice came out practically like a birdsong. The southerner's blue eyes had been scanning the neighborhood her sister had found a home in when Willa had finally come to the door after her ring of the bell. "You busy?"
"Unless you're a big college basketball fan, I wouldn't leave the bar if I were you," she warned the newest addition the stool next to her. As much as she loved sports, she'd learned quickly that she didn't love all sports equally, nor did she enjoy being a part of a watch party with a bunch of grown men yelling at the tv as if they could do any better. "Big rival games and I'm pretty sure Michigan isn't even playing." Instead, it was a battle of lesser evils, or in sports talk, a game of rooting for the team they considered less of a thread to their own.
Just as she'd finished her warning, an explosion of cheers burst out from somewhere else in the space, as if backing everything she'd only just said. "Oh, and there's a special on nachos," she added beneath a grin. Between the nachos and the drink specials, it was more than enough to put up with the occasional cheers or boos that came from another place within the bar.
Since it's opening The Penalty Box had become one of Tanner's most favorited watering holes. Not only had been going home to drink a few beers in an empty house get depressing, she also found she had a hard time with the quiet. Before Daniela had left she enjoyed whenever she could find some solace, and now hearing her own thoughts and sorrows only made the absence that much worse. "You know me," Tanner stated, both hands lightly smacking down on the edge of the bar top as she lowered herself onto a seat, "the best you've got on tap in an icy pint glass." A wink to the bartender, she soon turned her attention to the woman she'd found herself parked next to. "I only watch the girls play," Tanner stated coolly, "and I only go over there with those assholes," she cut a glance over her shoulder before a smirk was turned to the brunette, "if some heads need to roll." They were good if you needed to let off some steam and talk some shit. After dealing with customers and visitors to her shop all day, where she had to curb her attitude and soften her words, it was often needed. "Thanks for the heads up though," hand with pint glass clasped in it then nudged her arm, "you must be new here."
The uproar was cause for a head turn, yet Tanner was easily pulled back by the mention of nachos. "Is that an offer? You wanna go for a share and yell some obscenities that'll scare the boys?" Something darkened her features—mischief, and now she wondered what new girl was made of. "Either that or we can go raise some hell by hogging up a pool table." Maybe it was all the energy in the room, or it could've been the transitions she'd found herself in post fiery conversation with her ex-girlfriend—Tanner was in excess.
"Do you really think that's a good idea? To add a living thing to my apartment when I've only just started to settle in?" She beamed up at the man as the questioned fell from her lips, her heart ticking to an excited beat. For the first time in awhile, they'd ventured outside of a hotel room or diner and into the world for everyone to see. Granted, Woodside was far from the watchful eyes planted in the city, but it was a tiny victory all the same. "Which, by the way, thank you for the help."
The model had gotten quite used to pulling out of boxes when the time for needing something came. The empty walls and shelves hadn't bothered her either. Now, she had pieces of art and little items placed all around the space that made it seem more like her place than an empty shell. "Hey, coffee spot. Mind if we stop?"
It was indescribable how incredible it felt to walk around publicly holding Aksel's hand. Or to be able to lean in and kiss her whenever he wanted without worry of hellfire raining down on them. To others it might have seemed small, for Amos there was a sense of freedom that he hadn't breathed so freely in quite some time. As they stood by the vendor that had a selection of potted plants, his hand idly rested on her lower back. Smiling ocean eyes peered down at the woman he desperately wanted to give everything to. "I do think it's a good idea," his gravelly voice responded, the amusement laced each syllable. "It's a nice big apartment— it just needs life. Plus, I think having something to care for and look after will be good for you." A smile conveyed his hope that hadn't sounded patronizing, Amos was truly being anything but. "If we're not careful you could really take to it and become the real life Pamela Isley." At her gratitude he simply tipped his head, it was something he'd not only been happy to do he also felt the meaning in partaking.
There was a joy in watching someone you loved filling out who they were, recognizing it and becoming it along the way. At the mention of coffee, Amos' hand pressed gently to her lower back and began guiding her in that direction before he verbally answered. "So glad you finally spotted one. You don't think it's homegrown do you?" Amusement displayed in his cheeks as he glanced down at her. "Want to take bets on if it tastes like a farm?" The powerful attorney had spent so long in big cities he couldn't drink the stuff anymore unless it was the boldest, darkest roast around. "You want a rug for your bedroom?" Amos directed her eyes toward another vendor stall, thinking they could find a nice one to accent her room and go under her bed.
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