Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Joey
I need caffeine injected into my veins. Like, yesterday.
An IV drip would be preferable, but a latte will do.
Getting out of bed this morning turned into an all-out battle.
When I woke up, Vera was sprawled over me, making it hard to breathe.
And nothing says wake up like dog breath and a wet nose at six a.m.
On my lunch break, I head to Main Street for a coffee.
My feet pound the pavement as I dodge Hemlock’s residents left and right. The sky may be overcast, but the array of spring flowers decorating nearly every storefront make the day brighter.
I’ve always loved flowers. As a child, my mom would take me with her to the plant nursery, where we’d pick out colorful blooms to adorn our home with.
We’d choose the brightest, most vibrant blossoms in every shape, color, and size.
When we got home, my dad would be out in the front yard, smiling and ready to plant them for her.
My heart aches at the memory. It’s a bittersweet ache, but an ache all the same.
Sighing, I shake the melancholy away and focus on the entrance of Dark Side Brews.
The moment I pull open the door, I’m hit with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the sight of.
. .Beckett. As I take him in, I can’t help but frown.
He shifts back and forth on his feet, white-knuckling his coffee cup, looking wildly uncomfortable as Finn, the shop owner and my sister’s boyfriend, carries on a one-sided conversation with him.
Looks like it’s my turn to rescue Beckett. Finn’s a talkative guy. Super nice, means no harm, but the man is a relentless conversationalist.
Casually, I stroll up to the guys and lean on the polished wooden counter where they’re standing. “Ah, I see you’ve met my knight in shining”—I look Beckett up and down, taking in his outfit—“black leather.”
The tops of Beckett’s ears turn red, and he drops his chin, studying his worn leather boots.
My stomach sinks. Whoops. I think I made the situation worse.
“Oh, this is the nurse who helped you?” Finn asks.
“Right time. Right place. Couldn’t have asked for better service.” I laugh, giving Beckett a gentle pat on his shoulder.
A very firm, muscular shoulder. I don’t hate that.
At the contact, he relaxes a little, his shoulders dropping and the grip on his cup loosening.
“Ma’am? What can I get you today?” a voice calls out from behind me.
I turn to the scrawny college-age barista, then peer up at the menu. “Hmm. I’m feeling like a sugar buzz today. Brown sugar latte, please.”
“What milk would you like?” he questions, punching my order in.
I hum again, contemplating. “Two percent is good.”
“Oat or almond milk,” Finn says, frowning at me. “She’s lactose intolerant.”
With a huff, I turn to glare at him. “Do you enjoy sucking the joy out of my life’s little pleasures?”
He peers down at me from over the rims of his tortoise-shell glasses, one brow cocked. “Your sister won’t stop complaining about how you complain about how dairy gives you an upset stomach. I’m looking out for myself first and foremost.”
“Fair enough. Only the strong survive when it comes to Charlie,” I mumble. “Don’t tell her I said that. We made a pact.” I point at him.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I remember.”
Beckett’s eyes dart back and forth between us, his expression one of curiosity and maybe a little skepticism. “A pact?”
I turn and give him a warm smile. “I watch Frank and Vera when Finn and my sister need a date night.”
His curious green eyes fill with concern. “Frank? The blind dog that sliced your hand open?”
“He still feels bad about that, by the way,” Finn interjects with a wince.
“Frank is a good boy with a lot of big feelings.” I stick my bottom lip out, and finally the worry lines on Beckett’s forehead smooth out. “It’s how we bonded initially. We shared a rotisserie chicken and talked about our emotions.”
“Next time you two have a bonding moment,” Finn says, checking his watch, “can you not feed him half a chicken? He wouldn’t touch his kibble for days after that.”
Sighing, I clutch my chest. “How can you fault him for his love of slow-cooked poultry? He’s a boy after my own heart.”
Finn shakes his head at my theatrics. “I’ve got to meet with a supplier.” He turns to Beckett. “It was nice meeting you. We should grab a beer sometime. It’ll be on me, of course, since my dog put you to work on your day off,” he jokes.
Beckett clears his throat, a subtle sign of his discomfort, I realize. One I can feel down to my very bones. “Uh. Yeah. Sure,” he replies in a noncommittal tone.
I take one big step behind Beckett and shake my head, giving Finn a don’t overwhelm the newcomer with your extrovertness look.
Thankfully, he takes the hint. With a friendly smile, he spins on his heel and strides down the hall that leads to the back of the shop.
“Oh shoot. I think I forgot my wallet,” a woman says behind me. “I’m sorry, just cancel my order.”
I turn to the voice, finding a woman with deep purple shadows under eyes and disheveled hair rummaging through her purse as a line of impatient customers waits behind her, only adding to her growing panic.
My heart clenches for her, the empath in me screaming to help.
I’ve been in her spot many, many times. So without hesitation, I step up beside her.
“I got this. Here,” I say, squinting at the name tag of the barista, “Joe. Put it on my card.” I give the woman a soft, reassuring smile. “Are you hungry? Do you want a muffin?”
Her eyes widen in surprise, a flicker of relief passing through them.
She’s going to say no, but I understand that look, so before she can respond, I turn back to Joe. “A muffin too, please.”
Laughing quietly, the woman presses her palm to her forehead. “Thank you so much. I haven’t gotten any sleep the last few days. My sister broke her leg, and I’ve been caring for her. I’m exhausted. And when I’m exhausted, I tend to be forgetful.”
“I have the memory of a goldfish,” I chuckle. “So you’re in excellent company.”
My name twin, Joe the barista, places our orders in front of us, and the woman gives me a smile.
“I have to get back to my sister,” she says, “but thank you again.”
My heart swells at the gratitude behind her words. “Of course. I hope your sister has a speedy recovery.”
As she exits the shop, I take in a deep breath, then let it out with a satisfied sigh.
This is one of life’s best pleasures. The joy that comes with making another person’s day a little brighter.
This world can be dark and unforgiving, so I do my best to be a light for those who need it.
I’ll choose empathy over apathy for as long as I live.
Spinning, I bring my coffee to my lips, and when I lock eyes with Beckett, I freeze. Honestly, I figured he would have snuck out by now. He’s clearly not an overly chatty kind of guy.
Yet here he is, looking at me with. . .admiration?
My heart leaps. No. That can’t be right.
“What?” I finally take my first sip of overly sweetened coffee and hum as the warm liquid hits my tongue.
“Nothing. That was—” He frowns, brows creased, like he’s searching for the right words. “That was really nice. Few people would go out of their way for a stranger like that.”
“We live in a society where people enjoy being assholes,” I say. “Where being kind and empathetic is seen as a rebellious act. And I am nothing if not a rebel.” Grinning, I shoot him a wink.
Beckett looks down at his boots again, rubbing the back of his neck. “And thank you for saving me. Earlier when. . .”
“Ah. Finn,” I laugh. “You should see him on Star Wars trivia night at the pub down the street.” I shudder. “He could talk for hours about how the lightsabers were originally made from camera parts.”
Beckett tilts his head, confusion swimming in his expression.
“Not a Star Wars guy?” I ask.
“Absolutely not.” He chuckles, bringing his coffee to his lips.
“Thank god.” I huff a laugh. “One Star Wars nerd in this town is plenty.” Checking my watch, I ask, “Do you have anywhere to be? I have another thirty minutes until I have to be back at work. Wanna join me? I promise, I won’t force small talk or invite you to any crowded places.
We can walk in complete silence if you prefer.
We can even walk on opposite sides of the street and wave occasionally. I’m cool with that.”
My silly comment gets a deep, hearty laugh from him. One that comes with eye sparkling and everything.
The sight fills me with an overwhelming desire to make him laugh like that again. To see if I can get him to transform from the shy, uncomfortable guy he was earlier to this relaxed, easygoing version of himself.
He nods. “I’d like that.”
“Wonderful. I’ll lead the way.”
The coffee shop is busy, crowded with the lunch rush. It’s overwhelming, even for me, so the crisp air and chirping birds outside are refreshing.
“It’s easy to feel claustrophobic in there when it gets busy like that,” I say, giving him a sidelong look.
Beckett’s head is downcast, but there’s no hiding the smirk creeping onto his face.
We walk in silence for several minutes, our footsteps falling in sync. The sun is finally breaking through the heavy gray clouds above us, the warmth of it heavenly on my face.
He pushes up the sleeves of his shirt, putting his tattoos on display. My heart thumps a little faster at the sight. I’d forgotten about his tattoos. As we weave through the people on the sidewalk, heads swivel in our direction, passersby staring at us with perplexed expressions, like we’re aliens.
I’m tempted to tell them to mind their own business. But something tells me that would make the man beside me want to squirm out of his skin.
So I guide him toward a quiet street lined with colorful historic homes and lush green trees. The only company we’ll have are the squeaking squirrels darting up trees and the occasional dog in a back yard.