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“You’re going to scrub a hole straight through my bar top.” Shorty says warmly, startling Waverly - who had been scrubbing distractedly at nothing while her mind stewed in frustration. She looks up when she registers what he’s said and smiles apologetically as she turns toward him, back against the bar, and a small chuckle escapes her lips. “What’s going on kiddo?” Shorty adds with a knowing look, effectively halting the excuse Waverly was beginning to form.
“I’m fine, Shorty; just caught daydreaming.” Waverly says with her signature, twinkling smile.
Shorty looks at her - and Waverly can see in his eyes that her lie is weak - so she takes a breath and bites the inside of her cheek gently. Her hands fidget as she attempts to force some honesty out with a sigh. “I just… I feel like I’m having so many different feelings right now and I can’t sort any of them out, so they’re all just crashing around.” She takes a breath, and Shorty gives her the space to finish her thought. Her hands wave gently in front of her, as if helping her coax the words out, “It’s just... frustrating.”
Waverley looks down at her hands, as she begins picking at some imaginary dirt in her fingernails when Shorty comes to stand next to her at the bar. “You want to talk about any of them?” He says with a shrug, looking out toward the room, so Waverly has the freedom to avoid his eyes and the conversation if she so desires. She’s always appreciated this about Shorty and thinks it must be a bar owner thing - being able to feel the undertones of any situation and how to navigate them in such a way that the other person involved knows it’s their choice to divulge anything they wish to, safely, or choose to say nothing without feeling guilty or withholding.
She huffs and turns around facing out at the bar, mimicking Shorty’s stance. “Well, I’m mad at Champ. That’s an easy one.”
“What did he do this time?” Shorty says with a stern, yet exhausted tone.
“Don’t do that, Shorty.” Waverly says immediately. She knows all too well how Shorty - and Gus, and Sheriff Nedley, and now Wynonna again - feel about her being with Champ. Honestly, she’s so beyond sick of their judgment- and they have no place to throw any judgment on him without also putting some on Waverly herself. They don’t know him like she does, and they don’t understand their relationship like she does. “I’m allowed to be mad at him without anyone else’s criticism. Okay?” She says curtly. “And there are also a whole mess of people I’m a bit angry at, among other feelings.”
Everyone knows better than to trifle with Waverly when she’s angry, so Shorty throws his hands up in surrender, apologizes, and gestures for her to continue. She glances over at him, “So. I’m sorry about the hole in the wall upstairs.”
“Excuse me?” Shorty says, confused - clearly not following her train of thought.
“Well, I was heading upstairs yesterday and heard someone threatening Champ outside my door,” Waverly starts calmly, but as she continues she feels her emotions catching her lips and speeding through the story with more frustration than she meant to let out. “So I kind of burst in with a warning shot that maybe went through the wall - Champ is fixing it though, as part of his apology to me for trying to seduce my sister in my own apartment. Oh, and that’s how I found out that Wynonna was in town.” She gives Shorty a hard look, “Thanks for letting me know. She smelled like whiskey, so I know she had a drink here before anything with Champ happened.”
Shorty nods slowly as the barrage of words settles with him. “Ah -“
Waverly maintains her stern gaze, continuing on before Shorty could say another word. “Oh don’t worry though, nobody thought I should know. Not you, or Gus, or Nedley, or Champ, or I don’t know, Wynonna herself? It’s only been, what, three years?” She looks forward again and waves her hands out in front of her and lets out a fast breath. The momentary quiet that settles hangs heavy in the space between them; Waverly doesn’t look up as she adds in a voice only just above a whisper, “Believe me, Champ being a grade-A jerk is the least of my concern.”
“I am sorry that I didn’t think to inform you, Waverly.” Shorty says breaking the short silence that had filled the room.
Waverly shakes her head before she turns fully to face him, and Shorty meets her eyes almost immediately. She knows it’s not Shorty’s - or anybody else’s - responsibility to be her sister’s calling card. “It’s okay, Shorty. Really, I should just be glad that she came back for Curtis’ funeral at all.” She finishes with a sigh and shrugs her shoulders.
Waverly can feel the exhaustion in her shoulders, but a bit of the weight seems to lift from letting out some steam. She recognizes the darker feelings leftover though; the jealousy. She doesn’t ever talk about that. She knows it’s ridiculous and childish to be jealous of her sister - especially considering her distinct reputation for being unlikeable - but she is. It’s there already, just like it’s always been for Waverly.
She can’t even say she’s really surprised that in 12 hours Wynonna was able to shake up the entire semblance of the normal, steady life that Waverly had made for herself. Waverly has never shaken anything up before. No. She’s the smile; Wynonna is the fist. Waverly has, with such discretion and care, done as much research as she can in regards to her family’s curse, and the thought that Wynonna could tip that table over too unsettles her. The anger - that she can’t just be glad Wynonna is back - sits next to the jealousy wearing the same name.
“Hey,” Shorty says gently, “I missed seeing you there, kiddo.” He says - almost as a question - but a deft change in subject that Waverly silently appreciates nonetheless. He put a hand on her shoulder, coaxing Waverly out of her head.
And just like that, the tears that have eluded her for days start to creep their way forward. Waverly breathes steadily out, blinking away potential tears - slightly angry that they weren’t there when it was appropriate. She’ll cry later. “Well you know Gus doesn’t appreciate ‘inappropriate laughter’” she says with a sigh, adding air quotes with her fingers.
Shorty squeezes her shoulder again, and she smiles a little, glad for his silent empathy. “It’s okay, Shorty. It was her day, plus I went to the diner like I do - did - every Saturday morning with him. I think he would have wanted it that way.” The last couple words are a struggle to get out, as she nods through her cracking voice. Shorty gives her some semblance of privacy, patting her shoulder in finality and turning away as he picks up the abandoned rag that Waverly had been using.
As polite as it is, it’s always been something that irks Waverly. People always look away from her, the girl with no family living or willing, any time she shows anything but utter happiness. She thinks it’s probably why she laughs nervously instead of mourning with her tears and sadness - people like this even less, though. So much so that she didn’t attend her own uncle’s funeral - she didn’t want the pity anyway.
Shorty has moved a little further away from the conversation, giving Waverly the option to end it there or continue. She hears the worry in her voice before she can stop herself, “Do you think she’ll stay?” Waverly can’t believe how small she sounds.
She sounds like nothing more than Wynonna’s kid sister all over again.