Chapter 19
Caleb
“You’re kidding me, right? Please say you are.” Bobby carefully sets his coffee mug down on the counter and stares at me as if I’ve told him that my mother turned up in Wayward Hollow. Because I did just that.
“I’m not kidding.”
“Point her out.” He turns around in his seat, pulling up the sleeves of his dark blue flannel shirt as he searches the café. “I’ve got some choice words for her.”
“She’s not here.” He seems almost disappointed when he turns back around. “Do you actually think I’d welcome her to my café with open arms, like nothing ever happened?”
He returns my pointed look with a shrug. “What do I know? You’re not exactly shoving any details of your encounter down my throat. ‘Hey Bobby, by the way, my mother is in Wayward Hollow’ isn’t giving me much to work with.”
“That’s because there aren’t any more details.” I clear my throat, then wave as Courtney leaves to get back to her flower shop. “They came in here yesterday before closing. I told them to leave. Went on a little ‘How fucking dare you’ rant, which then made them leave. That’s about it.”
“Hold on—they? I thought it was only your mother. Don’t tell me your dad is here too, because I wouldn’t have choice words for him.” He cracks his knuckles.
“Do you recall the young lady who had a rather strange reaction when she came in here a while back?”
“The one who turned right back around as if she’d seen a ghost?” I nod.
“That wasn’t exactly a formal introduction, I guess, but I’m assuming we share some percentage of genes.”
Bobby closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let me try to get this straight. After nothing—nada, niente, Nichts, not even a letter, for the past, how many years?”
“Twenty-six.” I throw in. That still astounds me. She created a whole new human in that time, who could have finished university by now. That’s how long she’s been out of my life.
“Not only does your mother decide to pay you a visit without any kind of announcement or asking if you even want that, but they go ahead and ambush you two against one?”
“Yep,” I say, popping the ‘p.’
It’s good to hear that Bobby finds it as ridiculous as I do. I spent half the night wondering if I was overreacting. Then again, there’s not exactly a playbook for this situation. Truthfully, a part of me made peace with never knowing what happened.
The other half was spent thinking about Lauren in my arms. How she gave me what I needed without any hesitation, any judgement. Only a hug so tight it kept me together and reassurance.
“What did they expect to happen?” Bobby grumbles, his face turning red with anger.
“I have no idea,” I say with a shrug.
“Have you called Bruce?” My old therapist is the brother of a guy Bobby used to serve in the army with. The good news is he’s still practicing.
“On vacation until the new year. I already got an appointment though.”
“Good for him.” Bobby nods. “And okay, bad for you. How are you holding up?”
Before I can answer, Shawna throws her tray on the counter and takes a seat next to Bobby. A quick glance around the café reveals that the only customers remaining after the lunch rush are Lauren and Kieran and Nic, sitting in a corner and giggling over something on Nic’s phone.
“Are you okay, hon? Wait, don’t answer that—you don’t seem okay.
” She gives me a worried frown and reaches for my hand, patting it reassuringly.
My heart beats into my throat until I remember that she’s extremely perceptive.
Different from Amanda, who seems to know better than you what’s going on in your life.
Shawna’s superpower is seeing when you’re not feeling your best, though I think Bobby also gave her the gist of my past when she first started working here.
She means well, but holy shit. I hate sympathy.
“As much as can be,” I admit with a shrug, causing her to narrow her eyes.
“Okay, then you’re well enough to hand me one of those apple pie slices.” She tilts her head to stretch her neck.
“Of course.”
By the time I turn back around, the two of them have their heads together, without a doubt conspiring to run those two out of town. If they’re even still here.
Do I hope they are? Yes. No. I’m not sure.
“I’m just saying, my pitchfork is polished and ready to go,” Bobby mumbles, and Shawna nods solemnly.
“I could sic my grandchildren on them.”
“Your grandchildren?” I lift my eyebrow, amused, as I set the plate with a generous piece of apple pie down in front of her.
“They’ve reached their honest phase.” She fixes me with an amused gaze.
“You know, they’re now the age where they confront you with painful truths, and because they’re being honest, you can’t tell them to fuck off.
The other day, they painstakingly pointed out my double chin.
” She gives it a poke with her index finger, then sprays a tiny mountain of whipped cream onto her plate.
“Then they asked me why I have so many wrinkles and why my hair is gray. Sadly, they’re adorable and I can’t even be mad, but ugh.
” She rolls her eyes. “They understand how to poke where it hurts.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourselves with the revenge plans,” I mumble, putting the whipped cream back behind the counter. “Who knows, maybe they left. Trust me, I was not very welcoming.”
“Yeah, of course you weren’t.” Shawna waves me off.
“Though you’re nice. And probably a lot nicer than I would have been, even though you hide it under that resting murderer face.
Anyway, hon…” Shawna points at me with her whipped-cream-clad fork.
“Take a break with your friends. It’s always dead in here after the midday rush. If anyone comes in, we’ve got it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please.” She scoffs with an eye roll.
So I get myself a huge mug of filtered coffee from the kitchen, grab myself a cinnamon roll that was too ugly to display, and make my way over to Lauren’s table.
“Caleb!” Kieran shouts with a wide grin when he sees me approach, and quickly scoots aside, reaching for another chair. “That’s a first. Come on, come on, sit down.”
“I mean, I would if you would be kind enough to tame your beast.” His dog is darting towards me excitedly, jumping up and putting his little paws on my thigh. Quickly, I lift the mug and cinnamon roll out of his reach.
“Ignore him, please.” He shakes his head, and his eyes turn to Dick, narrow with disapproval.
“Haha, is your Dick a little overexcited?” Nic grins widely, and Lauren is biting her lips to keep from bursting into laughter. Said Dick still has his paws on my thigh, tail wagging and peering at me with those adorable, wide puppy eyes.
“See this?” He slams his index finger on the table. “This is exactly why I called him that. Isn’t it hilarious? Now come here, boy!” It takes a few more calls until the cute golden retriever agrees to let go of me.
“You’re immature,” I say, finally sitting down.
Once I do, the adorable dog scurries around the table, running into our legs before he comes to a stop right next to me, looking up expectantly. Then he keeps turning around himself, occasionally glancing at me to see if I’m now prepared to share my food with him.
Lauren’s worried gaze burns into my skin, and I evade it. I’ve reached my limit of being worried about for today. I don’t know how to deal with it.
“Psst. Please give him a T-R-E-A-T,” Kieran says and hands me one. “A lady on the internet said to reward dogs when they calm down. I’m trying that strategy.”
“Sure.” I take the small treat and hide it under my hand as I take a sip of my coffee, waiting for the dog to relax. “That’s a good boy,” I finally say and hold out the treat.
Nic's eyes dart between me and Dick. “Have you ever thought about getting a dog yourself?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I’ve got a café to run. I don’t have enough time to take a dog for a walk three times a day. Or every few minutes if they get the runs.”
Everyone at the table grimaces and mumbles their understanding.
“Anyway…” Lauren rummages in her bag and pulls out her signature bottle with a triumphant smile. “Can I interest you in some gingerbread spice syrup?”
“No, thank you.” I roll my eyes.
But her question managed to achieve what she wanted and changed the topic to more Christmas-related things. Namely, one of Kieran’s videos that apparently involves a sugarcane, coal and a whip.
“Do you want to see it?” Nic asks with a giggle, already unlocking her phone. All the color drains from Kieran’s face.
“He does not,” he answers quickly before I can.
“Don’t tell me what I want,” I scold him playfully and reach out my hand. He’s right. I can’t imagine anything I’d like to see less. But his reaction has the exact opposite effect that he wanted to achieve.
But before Nic can show me, Kieran grabs the phone from her hands and puts it in his pocket.
“You clearly can’t be trusted with this,” he mumbles, evading Nic’s glare.
“Who are you, my teacher?”
“No, just the kind of guy who would like to retain an ounce of respect among his male friends.” He clasps my shoulder in an overly bro-hug way. I shrug his hand off.
“What I’m hearing is you’re fine with us not respecting you.” Lauren lifts her eyebrow and takes a sip of her latte macchiato.
“It’s clear I’ve already lost that battle.” Kieran sinks into himself, shoulders heavy with dejection.
Dick turns around and puts his chin on Kieran’s thigh. “At least you still love me,” he says dramatically and runs his hands through the golden retriever’s fur.
“We all love you,” Nic points out and pats his hand, though her voice is dripping with sweet sarcasm and a tinge of playful condescension.
“I’m sure that somewhere beneath Caleb’s murderous exterior, he has respect and even a spark of love for you.
” Her smile widens. “And what’s love without a bit of tasteful bullying? ”
“I will remind you of that.” Kieran narrows his eyes at her and leans closer. “I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but I’m going to get my revenge. And I’m going to remind you of this exact conversation. Remember. Payback and karma are bitches.”
Both Nic’s and Lauren’s eyes suddenly sparkle with mischief.
“Oh, it’s on.” Lauren rubs her hands together excitedly.
“You wish. I can’t wait,” Nic says.
Lauren’s eyes burn holes in the side of my head with how intently she’s staring my way. When I glance at her, our gazes lock. Her eyebrows furrow with worry, and I give her the slightest nod in response.
I’m okay. At least more okay than yesterday.
Even more okay when her hand subtly finds my thigh under the table and gives it a short squeeze before finding my hand and lacing her fingers with mine, her thumb tracing random patterns on the back of my hand.