Chapter Text
If there was a prize for Worst Way To Spend A Tuesday Morning, Riley Vaughn was pretty sure she’d just taken gold.
The county courtroom smelled faintly of burnt coffee and old paper, and the air conditioner was fighting a losing battle against the July heat. A bailiff yawned loudly. Somewhere behind her, a pen clicked. Riley sat at the defendant’s table, trying to look appropriately remorseful without drifting into “I might cry” territory.
“So you’re telling me,” Judge Keating said, peering at the file in her hands. “This all began with a pool game?”
Riley opened her mouth, thought better of it, and settled for a vague shrug.
“Ms. Vaughn, I’d like an answer.” The judge pressed.
Her lawyer, a harried man who looked like he lived off gas station coffee, cleared his throat. “My client would like to emphasize that she did not initiate the altercation, Your Honor.”
Riley bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from talking.
The judge glanced between them, her eyebrow twitching. “And yet somehow, we have a broken cue stick, a cracked jukebox, and... Three patrons reporting minor injuries.”
“They weren’t that minor.” The prosecutor muttered.
Riley’s stomach sank. Fantastic. Let’s add 'public enemy number one' to the resume.
Judge Keating set the file down. “You’ve managed to avoid jail time, Ms. Vaughn. Barely. I’m sentencing you to one hundred hours of community service. You’ll report to the Green County Animal Shelter, starting tomorrow.”
“Animals...?” Riley repeated, like maybe she’d misheard.
“Yes, Ms. Vaughn. Animals.” The judge’s tone suggested she should count herself lucky it wasn’t trash pickup on the side of the highway. “You will treat this as an opportunity to give back to the community. And I suggest you avoid any further billiards related incidents.”
There was a light snicker from the gallery. Riley didn’t have to look to know it came from one of the off duty bartenders who’d shown up for moral support- or more likely, entertainment.
As the gavel came down, Riley exhaled slowly. One hundred hours. No jail. No fines she couldn’t scrape together. She could do this. Keep her head down, mind her own business, and steer clear of trouble.
Easy.
Right?
Riley pushed through the courthouse doors and was hit by a blast of summer heat thick enough to wring out. The sun glared down like it was personally offended by her existence.
She made it halfway down the courthouse steps before hearing, “Nice one, Vaughn.”
Evan was leaning against a lamp post, grinning like he’d just watched the best reality TV episode of his life. Of course he had. He had a front row seat to the chaos, and Riley was fairly certain he’d been texting a blow-by-blow to half the county before last call.
“I don’t want to hear it." She muttered, brushing past him.
“Oh, come on. I’m just saying, you’ve got style. Not everyone can take out a cue ball, a jukebox, and three people in under five minutes.”
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “I didn’t take out anyone. And the jukebox practically begged for it.”
Evan laughed. “Sure. That’s what we’re going with.”
She kept walking, partly because she didn’t want to argue, partly because the sidewalk felt about three hundred degrees and she could already feel sweat sticking her shirt to her back.
Truth was, the whole mess hadn’t even been about her. Not at first. But someone’s ex-boyfriend had decided that her being in the same general vicinity as his ex-girlfriend- and laughing- meant she was fair game for a public interrogation. Then came the posturing, the shoving, the “accidental” drink spill, and before she knew it…
Riley cut the thought off. No point replaying it now.
“Green County Animal Shelter... Maybe you’ll meet someone cute. Get a date out of it!” Evan called.
“Not interested!” She called back, not slowing down.
The words came out sharp, automatic. She’d stopped thinking about dating months ago, ever since the last time she’d ignored the warning signs and wound up with a heart like a cracked mirror. People were messy. Relationships were complicated. And right now, she was fresh out of patience for both.
One hundred hours. That was all. Show up, do the work, keep her head down.
She could handle that.
Probably.
Assuming nobody would be there to fuck that up, of course.
The drive back to the trailer park took all of ten minutes, but it felt longer. Maybe because she’d only been back in town a week and the roads still felt like they were carrying ghosts- old hangouts she didn’t go to anymore, street corners she avoided because of who she might run into.
The Oakley Pines sign loomed ahead, its faded green paint peeling at the edges. Underneath it, a plastic banner read NOW WITH WI-FI in bold red letters, as if that made up for the potholes or the fact the laundry room coin machine hadn’t worked since Christmas.
Riley parked beside her single-wide, killed the engine, and sat there for a second. The place was small, a little dented on one side from some long forgotten mishap, but the rent was cheap, and for now, that was what mattered.
She hauled herself out, the gravel crunching under her boots, and headed up the two warped steps to the door. Inside, the air smelled faintly of the citrus cleaner she’d picked up at the Dollar Spot. She’d barely unpacked- just enough to make the space livable. A couch salvaged from her cousin’s garage sale, a coffee table with a ring from someone else’s mug, and her bed shoved into the corner of the single bedroom.
Riley dropped her keys into the chipped ceramic dish on the counter and flopped onto the couch, stretching until her spine popped.
Back in town. Back in the same county she’d sworn she’d never set foot in again. But after everything that had gone down- losing her job, her apartment, and the person she’d thought might actually stick around- this was the only place left that felt even half familiar.
She let her head tip back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling fan as it lazily turned.
Bruised heart. Bruised ego. And now, community service at the county animal shelter.
She huffed a laugh that had no humor in it. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Vaughn.”
Outside, the cicadas were already buzzing, the air heavy and unmoving. Somewhere in the park, a dog barked twice, then went quiet.
Riley closed her eyes, telling herself tomorrow was just another day. Just a job she didn’t get paid for.
And if she said it enough times, maybe she’d even believe it.