Chapter 5
Katelyn
As I push into the bustling coffee shop, my nerves are at an all-time high. I’d prayed about it last night, though, and this place popped into my mind. And after walking past it three different times this morning, I finally have the courage to come inside.
She’d offered me a coffee, but I’m coming here for a job.
Heart in my throat, I move up to the counter. Anastasia is smiling and taking the order of someone in line. There’s a thin coat of sweat on her forehead, but she doesn’t look the least bit overwhelmed despite there not being a second barista working alongside her.
That’s good, right? Is that why You wanted me here, Lord? Because she needs help?
Anastasia’s gaze lands on mine, and her grin widens. “Hey, Katelyn! Give me just a second.” She takes payment then starts prepping the order. All while another five customers remain in line.
“Need a hand?” I ask.
She laughs softly. “If you are open to working the register, I’ll owe you a lot more than a coffee,” she replies.
“I can do that. I worked at a coffee shop all through college. So I can help with whatever you need.” I move around the counter and wash my hands in the tiny employees-only sink just inside the room.
“Seriously?” Anastasia asks. “What perfect timing!” After embracing me quickly, she tops two paper cups with foam, then puts lids on top. “You grab the next order, and I’ll get prepping it.”
“You’ve got it.” The anxiety eases as I step up to the register. Maybe I won’t have to beg her for a second job after all. “What can I get for you?”
“A lavender honey latte, please,” the woman replies. “Hey, I’ve seen you at the diner, right?”
“You have,” I reply with a friendly smile. “That will be four-seventy-five.”
The woman holds up a card and taps it to the reader.
“Thanks so much. We’ll get right on that.”
“Thank you so much!” she says happily, then moves down the counter to wait.
I glance over at Anastasia, who is already working on the latte, happily humming as she works. So, I turn back to the next customer, an aging man I’ve never seen before. “What can I get you?”
“A black coffee and a caramel macchiato with nonfat milk.”
I ring him up, seriously hoping that Anastasia’s comment yesterday about being the only employee was the cry for help I took it as. “You’ve got it.”
“You saved me today,” Anastasia says as she drops down in a chair and slides a muffin toward me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I smile. “You are so welcome.” I could honestly see being friends with someone like Anastasia. She’s unbelievably kind and seems to carry this air of positivity around her. A light that cannot be stifled. Which is something I can seriously appreciate after spending so many years in the dark.
“So, I owe you a lot more than a coffee. And as soon as I get to my feet, I will make good on that.” She yawns.
“Actually,” I start, then clear my throat as I shift my gaze down to the muffin I’ve yet to touch. “Maybe we can consider today a trial run.”
Anastasia turns to me, expression curious. “A trial run?”
You’re in it now, Katelyn. Finish it out. “Sure. I’m working nights at the diner right now, but I’m looking for a job during the day. If you’d like an extra set of hands, I can—”
“You’re hired.” Anastasia slaps her hand on the table.
I jump, my heart racing. Not in danger, I remind myself as I take a deep breath. Most days, my fight or flight is weighted heavily in flight. Today seems to be no different.
“Sorry,” Anastasia says with a laugh. “I’m just super excited.
I was literally praying during prep this morning because my second set of hands had the audacity to move away last week, and I was about to start interviewing.
Instead of letting me go through that nightmare, God sent me you.
” She beams at me as she gets to her feet, leaving me sitting there shocked.
Was it seriously that easy?
Did that just happen?
I’d prayed about the job, and this place popped into my mind.
She prayed for help, and I showed up.
I can’t help but smile at the way God works. Thank You, Lord. I don’t deserve it, but that doesn’t stop Him from delivering me more blessings than I know what to do with.
Anastasia returns with a short stack of papers. As she takes her seat, she slides them over to me. “This is my standard employment contract with a background check.”
Background check.
I take a deep breath.
Every time my name is run through the system, it’s a risk. But I had to do it for the diner, and that ended up being okay. So, have faith, Katelyn. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”
“I know I won’t.” Anastasia smiles. “So are there any days you can’t work?”
I shake my head. “Whenever you need me. I can get you my schedule at the diner; those days I’ll need to leave by three to make it there by my shift at four-thirty.”
“That won’t be a problem at all,” Anastasia replies. “We’re typically slow in the afternoon, and I close at five every day. This is going to work out perfectly. God is so good.” She claps her hands together and does a little dance in her seat.
“He is,” I reply, feeling a bit of the weight settle off of my shoulders.
“I’ll include today’s pay in your check. I pay weekly on Fridays, and we split tips fifty-fifty when we’re both on shift. Days where it’s just you, you get one hundred percent, and same for me. Does that work for you?”
“That’s perfect.”
“Sweet!” Anastasia claps her hands together again. Her cell rings, so she pulls it out and checks it, her grin spreading. “Just a second.” After answering it, she presses it to her ear and stands. “Hey, honey, how is your day?”
The bell above the door dings, and a man walks in, his expression neutral. When he sees me, he smiles, and it’s when that smile reaches his caramel-colored eyes that recognition kicks in. I passed him when I left Garrison’s hospital room two days ago.
“Hey, you’re the pepper spray lady, right?”
Ouch. Not a nickname I wanted to stick. “Katelyn,” I reply as I get to my feet and move behind the counter. I’m not entirely sure I’m officially on shift today, but since Anastasia still hasn’t come out of the back room, I figure it can’t hurt to continue to prove my worth to her.
I need this job more than I need oxygen these days.
“I’m Sawyer,” he says and offers me his hand.
Another one of the SEALs Thomas was talking about. Even if Thomas hadn’t mentioned that one of Garrison’s team members had been at the hospital, I would have called this guy as being one of them.
He towers over my five-foot-four height and is built like a soldier, just like Garrison.
His bronze hair is cut short, and a black t-shirt stretches over broad shoulders.
A pair of grease-smeared coveralls is folded down to his waist, though his hands have been scrubbed clean.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Even though the contact of a man—any man—makes my stomach twist into nervous knots, I accept the handshake. “Garrison’s friend, right?”
“His best friend,” he replies, leaning in. “Some may argue that, but don’t let them fool you.” He pulls back his hand.
His charm disarms my frayed nervous system just enough that my smile isn’t forced. “What can I get you?” I move around the counter toward the register.
Sawyer’s gaze narrows slightly, but not in an untrusting way. More surprise. “Where is Anastasia?”
“On the phone. She hired me this morning.”
“Good. She could use the extra hands. Um, I’ll just take a black coffee,” he replies.
“You’ve got it.” I ring it up. “Seventy-five cents.”
He offers me a five.
I make the change then hand it back to him, but he just shoves it into the tip jar, his gaze shifting over toward where Anastasia is standing on the phone. Her back is to us, but her body language is stiff. And if there’s one thing I am better at than cleaning up blood, it’s reading body language.
It’s a skill one develops when they’re forced to walk on eggshells.
Whoever she’s on the phone with is not making her happy.
I pour Sawyer’s coffee, then offer it to him, but he doesn’t move. If Anastasia’s body language is angry, his is just as serious. He’s tense, as though he wants to rush over and rip the phone away to erase whatever is making her upset.
If I’d thought she and Garrison were an item before, I wouldn’t have believed it anymore after seeing the way Sawyer watches her. Like a man focused on a priceless treasure.
Does she see it? Are they an item?
She hangs up the phone and turns toward us. When she sees Sawyer, her expression shifts so quickly that I nearly miss it. Unfortunately, I’m all too educated in what a mask looks like. Which is exactly what Anastasia slips into place when the smile replaces her frown.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“What’s wrong?” Sawyer asks, setting his coffee aside and stepping forward.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?”
Anastasia sighs. “Jack was supposed to come into town this weekend, but he just cancelled. Apparently, something came up with work.” Her disappointment hangs heavy in the air around her.
“Sorry to hear that,” Sawyer replies, lifting his coffee.
“You are not,” Anastasia replies playfully. “You don’t like him.” She turns to me. “Jack is my boyfriend. He’s an FBI agent out of Savannah, Georgia. We’ve been doing the long-distance thing for a couple of weeks now.”
Ouch. The grin on Sawyer’s face is so fake it makes my heart hurt for him. “Long-distance is hard.”
“It is,” she replies with a sigh. “And it’s even harder when my friends don’t like him,” she adds, poking Sawyer in the chest with her finger.
Does she really not see that he cares about her?
“I never said I didn’t like him. I just don’t think he’s good enough for you.”
She laughs. “All of you have made it painfully obvious that no one will ever be good enough for me.” Anastasia heads over behind the counter and washes her hands.
Sawyer’s gaze lingers on her far longer than a friend’s would. “I’m headed back to work, but I’ll catch you later?” he asks. “Dinner at Momma Knox’s place?”
“Since she’s my mom, I’ll be there!” Anastasia calls out.
Sawyer turns toward me with a friendly smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “It was nice to see you again, Katelyn. I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, see you around.” I offer him a wave before he turns to leave.
As soon as the door closes, I turn back to Anastasia. “Do you need me to stick around today?”
“Nope. But if you can get that all filled out and be here for a shift tomorrow morning, that would be great.”
“I can do that. What time?”
“Does seven work?”
“Seven is perfect.”
“Great. I can typically handle the super early morning solo, but things pick up around then, and well—” She gestures toward the room. “You saw how that worked out for me today.”
“I did.” I smile, enjoying the way the oxygen fills my lungs fully for the first time in I don’t know how long. “Thanks again for this. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“The gratitude comes on both sides, trust me. Oh, hey, the diner is closed tonight, right?”
“It is,” I reply. “They’re closing after lunch for some remodeling.”
“Great. Then you’re free for dinner?”
“Dinner?” I stare back at her like she just asked me to walk on the moon.
“Yeah. My mom does this weekly dinner, and there’s always so much. Think you and your son can join us?”
“Oh, I—”
“I insist,” Anastasia replies. “Jack was going to come, but since he’s not going to be there, you can be my plus two.” She beams at me. “I think she’s making enchiladas, and they are seriously the best.”
“I don’t—”
“I won’t take no for an answer.” She withdraws her phone and pushes it at me. “Put your number in, and I’ll text you the address. We’re eating at six, but you can show up anytime after five.”
I stare down at her phone, trying to decide what a legitimate excuse is not to go. I’ve worked hard to keep all attachments to a minimum. That way, should I need to cut and run, no one remembers me well enough to care that I’m gone.
But when no excuse comes to mind, I enter my phone number, save the contact, then hand it back to Anastasia, who shoves it into her pocket with a smile.
“Can we bring anything?”
“Just yourselves,” Anastasia replies.
The bell dings overhead as three women walk into the café, all of them talking happily.
“I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Anastasia offers me a wave before taking the new orders, so I grab my stack of papers, purse, sweater, and head out the door, my mind reeling on all that’s happened already. I mean, it’s not even ten in the morning, and I have a job and a family dinner invitation.
A slow smile spreads over my face as I start toward the diner to help with a quick, short shift before they close the doors for the day. The sun is bright overhead, and the salty sea air hits my lungs just as it does every time I step outside. Somehow, though, today feels different—happier.
Hopeful.
Like maybe, just maybe, this could be a turning point for my life.