Beautiful notes, p.1
Beautiful Notes, page 1
Beautiful Notes
Sierra Zinke
Copyright © 2025 by Sierra Zinke
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
to sharon, my grandmother, thank you. there is not a day that goes by that I don't miss you.
Playlist
This playlist is the perfect soundtrack as you dive into Beautiful Notes, setting the mood for every twist, turn, and tender moment.
Some of my favorites included are:
Pink Skies | Zach Bryan
Orchestra | Drew Ryn
Thought You Should Know | Morgan Wallen
Love You Tonight | Ella Langley
I Hate That It’s True | Dean Lewis
I Can Do It With A Broken Heart | Taylor Swift
Wait! | Kelsea Ballerini
Prologue: 10 years ago, Milwaukee
Olivia
Of course it’s raining in Milwaukee as our plane lands. I take my headphones off, to settle the anxiety of missing any landing announcements, only to be bombarded with the sound of the cold rain pinging off the metal plane. The sound is the type that would lead you to curl up on the couch, with a fuzzy blanket, a glass of wine and a good book. It’s not uncommon for it to rain in October here, but after yesterday, the last thing I want is more dreary sadness in my life.
My friends Mason, Carolina, and Savannah are all sitting at my house waiting for my Uber to pull up. I haven’t even told them the extent of what happened, just that I was getting on a flight and coming back to Milwaukee. Two days early.
Mason: I got chocolate ice cream.
Savannah: I got us some extra wine & gin for you.
Caroline: Amazon cart is full of rope, duct tape, and a human-size garbage bag.
Our group chat continues to ping as I climb into my Uber for the long ride home back to the house. I keep my head down, hood up, to hide my tear streaked, puffy eyes. I just want to sit in silence. Looking out the window, mentally prepare for the tsunami of tears and emotions about to hit when I walk in that front door.
My friends are the most kind-hearted, loving, have-your-back type of friends. Which means I will be bombarded with hugs, and I will definitely cry. It's going to be a messy, ugly cry. Almost like the rain drops racing down the car window.
In early October, Milwaukee is generally sixty degrees, with a healthy mix of sun and rain, except today. Today, it’s barely fifty degrees and raining, and I would like nothing more than to disappear into my bed forever.
My phone starts vibrating with a call and I pull it out of my pocket to see who it is. Noah’s name rolls across my phone and a photo of the two of us from high school graduation fills the entire screen. Oh, fuck no. I immediately hit reject on the call. There is not a chance in hell I'm answering that. I would rather be thrown off the ski mountain and crash through the trees before I talk to him again.
Noah: Ollie, answer the phone
If I wasn’t in the Uber, I would likely throw my phone into my bedroom and pretend it’s lost. My phone starts ringing. Noah. Again.
Deny.
Noah: Ollie, please.
The Uber rounds the corner to my house, and I can see my friends standing in the big picture window that overlooks my living room waiting for my arrival. I don’t know how I got so fortunate to have these amazing people ready to go to war for me without even knowing the situation, but I also know I’m not getting out of this conversation easily after coming home two days early from the trip that was supposed to change my entire life.
I’ve completed the first half of my first semester as a freshman at Marquette, where I met the three amazing friends, all standing in my living room, waiting for me to get home. We are planning to move in together in the fall when our respective leases are up and I truly am so lucky to have them. Milwaukee is my new home, I try to tell myself, only half convinced I’ll be able to make a forever life for myself here.
Anything is better than being back home in the middle of nowhere, going back to a life where our families are close and I have to relive this pain everyday. Plus what am I going to tell our families? He has the luxury of not going home ever and I have to be the one to tell them everything.
Especially Cole. Oh god...Cole. What am I going to tell him? I shake my head trying to remove the thought and the feeling of panic the thought stirs up. That is a problem for another day.
My life might be falling apart now, but it won’t be forever because Milwaukee is where I want to be. Not Noah’s arms.
Or at least I’m going to keep telling myself that until it becomes my reality.
I don’t even make it up the seven brick steps into my townhouse before the silent tears start streaming. I only make it another four steps through the front door before I am tackled by Gus, golden fur flying all over my face as his paws sit on my shoulders and he starts licking my face, salty tears and all.
I round the corner of the hallway into the open living room to everyone staring at the doorway waiting for me. All it takes is one look at them, the sadness and sympathy written across their faces, for me to break down all over again.
“Oh, honey,” Caroline says as she wraps her arms around me. I bury my face into her shoulder as Savannah comes over rubbing my back and pulling my rain drenched hair out of my face and mouth.
I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder and they gesture to the couch already equipped with every throw pillow in the house and my favorite green blanket ready for me. They not only came to my house, but set everything up to optimize my comfort without even knowing what happened. How did I get so lucky?
I see Mason walking back into the living room from the kitchen carrying a small wooden tray with three different cups on it. He gently sets it on the coffee table in front of me, moving at a snail's pace to avoid spilling anything. I realize there are three different cups with three different beverages in it, a bright yellow mug with tea, a small square glass with a clear liquid and a lime on the side, and a stemless wine glass with a hefty pour of white wine.
“I didn’t know what you’d want, so I brought you all three,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder before sitting on the other side of Savannah next to me.
“Thank you,” I reply with a soft smile and a sniffle as I pick up the clear drink discovering it’s gin and downing half of it before I begin telling them about Oklahoma. At least as much as I’m willing to share.
♪♪♪
I don’t remember when I retrieved the letter, the last letter that Noah wrote to me while in basic training. I don’t remember what prompted Caroline and Mason to antagonize me to throw it away, rip it up, burn it, and cleanse it from my life. But I did grab the box of letters, I did grab the last one, and I did rip it into shreds.
Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was twelve missed calls and text messages from Noah before Caroline hid my phone, or maybe it was the wave of emotions, the anger, the sadness, or even the confusion.
Chapter 1: Present Day
Olivia
“C’mon, Olivia!” I hear Caroline yell over the stereo that’s playing “Any Man of Mine” by Shania Twain.
“Ugh,” I groan to myself as I dig through my closet for my go-to bar outfit. Faux leather pants and a dark red top that accentuates me in all the right ways.
It’s been Caroline and Mason’s mission for the last ten years to help me get over Noah. Take Olivia out to the bars, wing woman her into some nice man's arms, and let the rest be history. If only it were that easy.
Don’t get me wrong, I have been in other relationships over the years but nothing’s ever felt right. I typically let things fizzle out after a few months because there is no point in wasting anyone else's time or effort if it isn't going to work out in the long run. I’m perfectly happy with the random hookup here and there.
Mason and Savannah finally admitted they were into each other and have been together for almost two years now, and I think Mason is planning to propose in the springtime. Caroline and Ben have been together for six months and things are getting serious between them.
I love my friends and I know they mean well, but I really don’t need to be in a relationship. I have my job, running, and plans for my future. I'm making a difference in people's lives and I want to expand that to as many people in Wisconsin as possible. I was just asked to present at a school regarding physical therapy and the different facets of it. Definitely no time for a boyfriend.
“Coming! Just curling my hair,” I yell back as I frantically try to pull myself together as quickly as possible. I don’t particularly want to go to the bar tonight but also don’t want to disappoint Caroline. She’s been the best rock of a friend I could ever asked for.
The Pub Down the Street is literally a small pub down the street. It’s a super small bar that is family-friendly, with outdoor seating during the day, but at 10 p.m. the entire atmosphere shifts into more of a club. The tables in the center of the space are moved to make room for a dance floor with booths and bench seating around the outside. We typically claim a round booth in the corner and walk up to the bar, where our favorite bartender, Felix, makes us cocktails. He knows the group rules and fits in with us like a glove. Felix has been working at The Pub for as long as I can remember. He's so good at his job that he can even predict the drinks we want simply by our moods when we arrive.
In anticipation of it being exceptionally busy, since it is Friday, we leave the house early enough that it
The sidewalk is lined with crisp gray-brown snow that has melted and refroze a dozen times when the sun warms the street and then drops into sub-zero temperatures at night, making the sidewalk slick in some damp areas and a potential hazard for the clumsy friends. It is me. I'm the clumsy friend. It never fails I fall at least once a year and bruise my ego and pride walking home from the bar after a few too many.
Fortunately, the Pub Down the Street is close and the three block walk, or trudge, as we call it, when the wind blows through the streets creates a wind tunnel that not even our down jackets can warm us.
Caroline and I typically walk arm in arm to and from the bar, acting out the unspoken girl code rules that no girl is left behind. More recently Ben has taken that place and wants to walk her down the street for “safety.” As if she is any less safe walking with me. It’s not like we aren’t all together. Truthfully, I feel like Ben has become a little clingy lately, and I can tell that it’s annoying Caroline by the way she rolls her eyes as he slides next to her pulling her close.
We bop down the street, ready for a night full of music and dancing together, when the green awning, with beautiful icicle Christmas lights hanging from it come into view. The smell of french fries waft into the air as people open the door. We quicken our pace in anticipation and excitement to see what Felix makes for each of us.
In a not-so-shocking turn of events, Felix reads each of us perfectly. Handing Caroline an espresso martini for her first drink knowing she needs a boost of caffeine after an incredibly hard story today. A fatal accident regarding a child, that she was responsible for covering the vast majority of the day. Those stories are always the hardest and the most draining mentally and physically. A soft smile slides across her wind blown face when he hands her the martini, a silent thank you for always getting it right.
Today, Felix gives me something different than my usual and I cannot help but wonder what he is seeing in me today that is different.
He hands me a short glass with a light green cocktail that smells spicy. I give him a confused look and he responds with “You look spicy today, let's give you a drink that matches.”
I feel a warmth come over my cheeks unsure how to respond, but a little embarrassed at the same time.
“Relax, Liv,” he continues, “It’s a cucumber jalapeno margarita, your shoulders are sitting up by your ears and you're standing as rigid as a two by four. You need a drink to get you all loosey goosey and on the dance floor.”
I’m instantly floored that he takes the time to notice all of those little factoids about us when he is the only bartender and there are probably fifteen other patrons waiting.
We sit at our usual small round booth in the back of the bar. It’s dimly lit and the music is thirty octaves too loud but gives us a place to lay claim when our feet start to hurt and we need a break from the dance floor. Plus it’s far enough away from everyone else that we don’t worry about leaving anything at the table throughout the night.
I’m getting settled at the booth with Caroline while Felix finishes everyone’s drinks when a deep, bone chilling draft of cold air fills the bar, when two guys walk in the front door, flinging it open as wide as it can go.
“No, Caroline,” I say sternly before she even gets a word out. Her big brown eyes shrink, and the glow of excitement fades into disappointment at my immediate rejection.
“Come on, Olivia,” she exclaims clearly annoyed. “When was the last time you got laid? You have needs. Needs that running can’t fix. Plus, look at this man.”
The man is attractive, tall and athletically built, with thighs that could shatter a watermelon. Don’t even get me started on his biceps, holy heck. His blond hair is short, and his brown eyes remind me of the espresso martini Felix just made.
“I don’t need anyone to fill my needs, that’s what Vlad is for,” I reply calmly. Vlad, the blue vibrator, lives in the comfort of my nightstand and is amazing at his job.
“Vlad is great but when was the last time you were with someone? And I mean someone who you actually had a connection with?” Caroline replies hastily.
Noah. Noah was the last time I felt truly connected to someone, and the fact that after ten years he still has this much of an effect on me makes me angry.
I returned from Oklahoma and instantly threw myself into school, work, and my friendships, promising to never get that close to someone again especially when all they do is leave.
“I don’t need to connect with someone, Caroline. I'm happy with my solo lifestyle,” I reply, and she frowns at me.
“You can’t hate all men, forever. It’s not healthy,” she bursts out before walking out onto the dance floor with Mason, Savannah, and Ben who are eagerly waiting for her.
I feel the simmer of annoyance bubbling in my abdomen knowing that she is right, but there is one man I don’t hate. I can’t bring myself to hate him no matter how hard I try. He constantly lives in the back of my mind and is often poking his way through the barrier into the forefront of my mind.
No matter who I talk to or who I date, whether we have everything in common or absolutely nothing in common, I find myself drifting back to him. And it’s fucking irritating, so I’ve sworn off dating all together.
I hear something ding, but being in a crowded room I just assume it's someone else’s phone.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
The text sound continues to alert me of incoming texts, and although we have a no phone at the bar rule, everyone is distracted with dancing so I pull it out to make sure everything is okay.
Noah: Hey
Cole: so I ran into Noah…
Cole: I’m sorry.
Noah: I heard you’re coming home in two weeks, let's get drinks and catch up? I miss you, Ollie.
My heart stops in its tracks. Excuse me? Noah Kneland, after ten years of “Happy Birthday” and “Merry Christmas” texts, decides he misses me? What do I even say back to that? I miss you? Gross. No. Do I miss him? Probably. Am I going to tell him that? Absolutely not.
“Phone!” I hear Mason yell from the other end of the dance floor as I'm being rushed by my entire group of friends. I have never been so happy to buy a round of shots if it means my phone gets taken and hidden until the night is over.
Why would Noah say that? We haven’t seen each other in ten years and never once has he expressed missing me.
I fake the biggest smile I can as I hand my phone to Caroline, to keep from breaking the rules when it dings a fifth time.
Noah again. All she has to do is look at the screen to know we need more tequila. And a lot of it.
Chapter 2
Olivia
Iwake up with a raging headache and very little recollection after the third shot of tequila and dancing. I roll over in bed and my entire body is aching from my head down to my toes. I can only assume that after the third shot, there were more, many more.
I smell cinnamon buns from the kitchen, and know that something happened when I remember why we were taking shots in the first place.
My phone. Where is my phone? Usually, it gets set on the wireless charger on top of the nightstand. Flying out of bed, I get a wave of the spins as I find my comfiest black slippers. Looking in the mirror to analyze what state my face and hair are in, I’m impressed that I remembered to take my makeup off, but chuckle at the mop I have on top of my head and the ratty oversized t-shirt I'm wearing. Did I try to braid it and give up, throwing it into a bun? Did I try to run a marathon in my sleep? Where did this shirt even come from? Another set of spins have me clutching the dresser to right myself.
