12. June
June
What gives Coen the right to come into my work and ask me questions about what happened to me? He’s been absent for years and he shows up out of the blue being all protective? How the hell did he even find out?
Out of the three of them, Magnus was the one who knew I worked at Bram’s. Why wasn’t it him that confronted me? Especially since he was waiting out in that ridiculous SUV the whole time Coen was inside trying to pity me.
I saw it in his eyes, the way he looked at me, like I might fall apart at the seams like that stupid fucking broken mug. I don’t need his sympathy, or anyone else’s for that matter. I’m fine on my own.
Did they agree that because I’ve known Coen the longest that he would be the best to talk to me? Well, they were wrong. Because none of them fit that description.
“June.” Bram hovers near me while I refill the salt and pepper shakers.
“Yeah?”
He sighs, his posture stiffening a bit. “Listen, I don’t want to pry, and I know you already told me what happened. But if there’s anything else going on, I hope you can put your trust in me to help if you need it.”
I haven’t worked here long but Bram has absolutely shown his trustworthiness. Definitely a too-good-to-be-true situation, still I'm rolling with it as long as I can.
“Thanks, I appreciate that. I’m fine though, really. Just an isolated mugging incident is all.” At least, that’s the story I’m telling him and anyone else who asks, because the real version is too fucking unbelievable, especially the part where I managed to get away.
Bram lowers his voice. “Don’t look now, but there’s a guy, across the street. He’s been there for a little over an hour. I don’t want to alarm you, or bring concern to something coincidental, but do you know him?”
I shift my attention from the task at hand to Bram’s concerned face. “The man that was in here earlier?”
He shakes his head. “No, taller. A bit rougher around the edges. Tattooed arms and neck.”
I exhale and go back to my duty. “He’s harmless. Probably just keeping an eye on me since…” I hold up my bandaged hands. “This.”
He shouldn’t be here, lurking in the shadows, but it’s better than him being the man who kidnapped and tortured me. I’m convinced it was a random mix-up, but I’m still on edge about the whole thing. At least it’s Magnus and not Coen. I’m not sure how much more of his sad looks I could take.
“Okay.” Bram relaxes a bit. “I guess I should call off the cops then.”
“You called the police?” I wide-eye him.
“No,” he chuckles. “They’re on speed dial though if you need me to.”
“I’ll let you know if I change my mind.” I grab the shakers and put them on their allocated tables, glancing at the clock and realizing it’s almost time to leave.
“You can go if you want. I’ll mark the whole hour.” Bram wipes off the counter and grabs the coffee pot. “Want one to go?”
“You sure?” Where’s the catch? Why is he so damn nice? It's like it's ingrained in this man's DNA, unlike the majority of the population who prefer to only do nice things when they can get something in return from you.
“Absolutely.” He pulls a takeout cup off the stack and fills it to the top.
“Could I have another?” I point outside. “For my stalker.” I reach into my pocket. “I’ll pay for them.”
“On the house. Consider it a thank you for him looking out for you.” Bram pours another cup full and secures the top. “I worry about you kids.”
I ask the question that has been on my mind since I met him. Something that I probably should just keep my mouth shut about. Curiosity striking me too hard at the moment.
“Did you know them? The college students who got shot.”
Bram’s shoulders tense up, telling me the answer without a word. He confirms it anyway though. “Yes.”
“I’m so sorry.” It’s one thing to have a tragedy strike so close to home, and another for it to be personal.
The sadness I see written across Bram’s face every time I’m in here and the burden he carries daily making much more sense now that my suspicions are confirmed. Whoever he lost in that doomed alley next to his shop meant something to him.
It’s been a month or so since the accident, the wound still fresh in his memory, in his heart, in his soul.
“I was friends with Claire, one of the victim’s girlfriends.” I’m not sure why I say this.
A spark seems to light in his eyes. “Really?” He tries not to make himself too obvious, but I already noticed the shift in his demeanor at the mention of her. “Have you heard from her?”
“No.” It wasn’t like she and I were the type to keep in contact though. We were buds through association, through Cora. When I notice the minimal brightness in him dimming, I add, “She might be in touch with a mutual contact of ours though. I could ask and get back to you.”
“Yeah. That would be nice. Thank you.”
And if that’s any indication, the person who Bram lost would have been Johnny, Claire’s boyfriend.
I wonder how the two of them knew each other.
Maybe they were related, or perhaps Bram took Johnny under his wing like he seems to do with other lost and broken people he stumbles across.
The goodness in his heart spilling out and making him incapable of watching someone suffer and not do something about it.
“She worked here, right? Claire?”
“Best help I ever had,” Bram smiles, a genuine one. “No offense.”
I laugh. “None taken.”
“You give her a run for her money though.” Bram shoves the two cups across the counter. “I better not keep you any longer. Your bodyguard might worry.”
I take them from him and mentally prepare myself for whatever is going to happen when I step foot outside. Will Magnus grill me? Pity me? Shame me for getting myself into such a situation?
“See you tomorrow morning,” I tell Bram.
A middle-aged woman walks in and holds the door for me so I can walk through.
“Thank you,” I tell her and step onto the sidewalk outside. I stand there, waiting for Magnus to cross, but he doesn’t.
Does he think I don’t know he’s there? Is this him trying to be inconspicuous?
I lean on my hip, putting my weight on one of my legs. “Come on, Magnus,” I call out in his direction.
He appears from the shadows, slowly at first, but then jogs across the street to me.
I shove the coffee toward him. “Here.”
He looks at it with furrowed brows. “You got that…for me?”
“If you don’t want it I can?—”
Magnus cuts me off. “No, of course.” He takes the cup from me. “Thanks.”
Has no one ever given him something before?
I pop the lid on my drink and let the steam float out. I want to take a sip but I’m rather fond of my taste buds remaining intact. “Why are you here, Magnus?”
He goes right for the kill, flipping the opening and drinking some of his. “Shit, that’s hot.”
“I have to go to work.” I point the direction I need to head.
“Work?” Magnus nods toward Bram’s. “You just came from there.”
I shake my head. “No, my other job.”
“June…”
I sense the judgment coming in his tone.
“How many places do you work at?”
“Today?” I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. “Three.”
He stares at me like I just grew a horn out of my forehead.
“Not everyone can be rich like you.” I don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does. But with the mood I’m in and the last few days I’ve been having, I don’t apologize.
Magnus’s expression shifts through surprise, to concern, to understanding in a matter of seconds. “I’ll walk you.”
That, I did not expect.
“What? It’s like four blocks.”
"Then we better get moving so you're not late." He places his tattooed hand on my lower back and guides me in the general area I had insinuated I needed to go.
His touch is warm and cool all at once. A strange comfort I didn’t expect given my current and ongoing annoyance with the human race.
I let him move me, because I really do need to get to work. I’m exhausted already from working at Bram’s but there is no rest for the wicked, or well, more realistically, the broke.
“You never told me, why are you here?”
“What? A guy can’t walk with a girl?”
I glance over at him, ignoring the shape of his jaw, the subtle arch of his nose, the dark, wispy lashes that extenuate his beautiful eyes.
God damn, he is a sight for tired eyes. “The lurking in the alley across the street is a bit much. You going for a Joe Goldberg from the show You type of vibe?”
He raises that bushy brow of his, a grin forming on his face along with it. “That guy had game though, no denying that.”
I exhale and take a cautious sip of my coffee. “I’m fine, really. I told Coen that. I don’t need your pity, or whatever this is.”
“You think this is pity?”
“What else could it be? Coen shows up out of the blue with that sad look written all over his face. Then you’re creeping from across the street like I can’t be left alone. What’s next? Dominic showing up, too? My boss almost called the cops on you.”
“It would have been fine I know a—” his train of thought changes.
“Never mind. No, you’ve got this wrong, June.
It’s not sadness we feel toward you. I mean, yeah, we hate that you got brought into this.
But what you’re not picking up on is the rage, the anger, the pure desire to make whoever did this to you pay. ”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Am I hearing him right? They want revenge? For what happened to me? Why? I’m just some girl to them. I mean, maybe not to Coen, but to Magnus and Dominic I’m a random one-night stand.
Did Coen put them up to this and the two of them are forced to tag along on his weird quest for vengeance? But even then, why would he care? He’s been gone for years and years and never once cared what happened to me.
“Why?” I finally ask.
“Believe it or not, you matter to us.”
“Sure do have a weird way of showing it. Coen disappears from my life for a decade. Dominic after one night. And you…” I gaze at him briefly, recognizing the preemptive hurt on his face. “I guess you’re the only one who hasn’t shown their true colors yet.”