When in Pine Ridge

Recap: 

Ian asked, “So what's your story? Or is it a secret?”

You replied: "Bad weather and bad decisions, obviously."

Ian laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “You’ll fit right in, then,” he says, his grin widening. The easy humor in his voice puts you at ease—at least for the moment.

“Bad weather and bad decisions,” one of the brothers echoes from nearby, his tone dry but amused. “Sounds like the start of a good story.”

Ian smirks, leaning one arm on the bar as he gestures toward the speaker. “That’s Sean,” he says. “Our resident realist.”

Sean’s sharp blue eyes flick to you, a hint of curiosity glinting in their depths. “I don’t know if bad’s the right word,” he says, his tone measured. “It brought you here, didn’t it?”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, unsure exactly how to take that. Is there a deeper meaning beneath his words, or is he just having a bit of fun with you?

That’s the thing about these guys. They’re hard to read. You can’t help but be a little intrigued.

The brother sitting farthest from you grunts softly, his large frame casting a shadow as he leans back against the wall. His blue eyes are like ice chips, discreetly watching over everything. Unlike the others, he doesn't look particularly friendly. You instinctively know he’s the oldest, and that he doesn’t say much, especially around outsiders.

Jake shakes his head as he slides a fresh drink to a waiting customer. “Every day’s an adventure around here,” he says, his grin returning. “Who knows what the day will bring?”

“You mean like when Ian thought he could make it as a bartender?” another brother calls out from the dartboard.

Ian straightens as if offended. “I happen to be an excellent bartender.”

Jake snorts. “Sure you are—until the bottle slips out of your hand and you paint the bar in Grey Goose.”

“That was one time!”

The pub erupts in laughter, the kind that feels familiar and infectious. Even you can’t help but smile, the warmth of the place sinking into you a little deeper.

Ian winks at you, his grin crooked. “They’re just jealous.”

“Of what? Your lack of juggling skills?” Sean mutters, earning another round of laughter.

Amid the laughter, Sean’s doppleganger speaks up from his corner, his voice quieter but no less commanding. “It’s true what Jake said, though,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “There’s something about Pine Ridge that calls to people. Well, some people anyway.”

“Call it fate,” Ian says, turning back to you. “Call it chance. Happenstance. Whatever.” His blue eyes twinkle with mischief, but there’s an undercurrent of sincerity in his tone.

Jake leans on the bar, his expression thoughtful. “It’s more than that,” he says. “Sometimes, people happen by and find what they didn’t even know they were looking for.”

You feel the weight of his words settle over you, and for a moment, the pub feels impossibly small, as though the world has narrowed to this one place, this one moment.

Ian breaks the silence with a chuckle, his grin returning. “Don’t worry—we’re not all about deep philosophy and storms around here. Most of the time, it’s just good beer and better company.”

“You forgot bad darts,” a hulking guy says, earning another round of laughter. He’s huge, with boyish features, and you immediately peg him as the youngest.

Jake shakes his head, catching your eye. “But seriously,” he says, his voice quieter now, “what about you? Are you just here to wait out the storm, or do you think Pine Ridge might have more to offer?”

Jake’s question lingers, and the brothers’ teasing fades as their attention shifts back to you.