Chapter 7 #2
The instant image of her standing on the edge of the street, headlights headed straight for her, is one I doubt I will ever get out of my mind. I’d spent all night sitting up, sick to my stomach, thinking exactly that.
If I hadn’t followed her out, she could have died.
“Since I don’t normally park in front of your shop, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been. And, because I was so angry at you, I didn’t properly thank you. So, thanks, Sawyer.”
But there is more to it than that because she’d locked up as she stared down those headlights.
Still, if she doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m more than happy to wait until she is.
So I don’t ask the one question that’s been on my mind since that night: What happened in your past that caused you to freeze like that?
“I’ll always protect you, Anastasia. No matter what.”
In a better mood than I’ve been in since Jack first walked into Anastasia’s life, I’ve already finished up two oil changes, a tire rotation, and a belt replacement by lunch. The sun even seems brighter today, or maybe that’s just because all is right in my world.
Anastasia and I are friends again. And what’s more is that it’s with the acknowledgement of that inexplicable spark that’s been between us since day one.
“I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Want one?” I ask Drew.
He eyes me, brow lifted. “Why? So it can be cold when you come back in an hour? At least, when you two were in your feud, I got hot coffee.”
I laugh. “I’ll order it right before I come back, honest.”
“Nah, I’ll stick with the break room pick me up. Thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” After washing my hands in the garage sink, I dry them quickly then step out into the bright afternoon sun. Her coffee shop is right across the parking lot we both share, a beacon calling me back to normalcy.
The scents of freshly baked goods and strong coffee wrap around me as I step inside. My gaze scans the room, looking for Anastasia, and when I spot her re-stocking coffee mugs on the far wall, my heart finally feels whole. Complete.
Especially when she turns and smiles at me. “Hey there, stranger.”
“Hey.”
“Your usual?” Katelyn calls out to me from behind the counter, a knowing smile on her face.
“Yeah, thanks,” I reply without looking away from Anastasia. We might as well be the only two in this coffee shop because she’s all I see.
Color dusts her cheeks, and she carries a now-empty basket over toward me. Her hand gently pats my chest, those pink fingernails a bright splash of color against my stained white t-shirt. The touch ignites my blood. It sizzles along my skin.
“Grab a seat; we’ll bring it to you. I even saved your table.” She nods toward the table at the back corner, and I laugh when I see a Reserved sign sitting on top.
“Am I that predictable?”
“I like to think I just know you exceptionally well. If you give me a minute, I can spare some time. That is, if you’d like to chat for a bit.”
“That’s why I’m here.” It feels so good not to have to pretend that I only see her as a friend or to hide the lingering looks as I withdraw the crossword puzzle I carried over in the pocket of my coveralls and take a seat.
Because now I know she feels it too.
Katelyn flashes me another knowing grin as she carries over a paper cup of coffee and offers it to me. “It’s about time, Sawyer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” But I can’t keep the smile off my face. “We’re just friends. For now.”
“See, it’s that ‘for now’ that has me so excited.”
Anastasia comes out of the back, a bottle of water in her hand. As she gets closer, Katelyn leaves the table and checks in on some of the other customers enjoying their coffee and baked goods.
“You hungry?” Anastasia asks as she pauses by the table. “I was going to make a sandwich.”
“Definitely.”
She flashes a smile. “Then come on, Soldier. I’ll be upstairs if you need me, Katelyn!”
“I won’t!” she calls back as I follow Anastasia up the stairs and into her apartment. She pushes the door open and moves inside.
“You really should lock this during the day.” It’s an old argument, something I’ve been telling her to do for years. “You never know who is in and out of your shop during the day.”
“No customers go in the back,” she counters as she quickly washes her hands and pulls out a loaf of fresh-made bread. Something she bakes herself, with her own ground flour. Where she finds the time, I have no clue.
“You might miss one.” I start to take a seat at her table when I hear a soft meow. Axel comes out of her bedroom, pausing a moment to stretch. “Hey there, buddy!” I drop down to the carpet as he plops down in front of me and rolls around on his back.
“I think he missed you,” Anastasia says softly.
I look up at her as I gather him into my arms. “I missed you, too, buddy.” As I rub him behind the ear, I stand on the other side of her kitchen counter, watching as she makes two turkey sandwiches.
She tops each one with a slice of cheese, tomato, and lettuce, then adds mayonnaise and mustard to hers, just mustard to mine.
It’s ridiculous, but the fact that she remembers I can’t stand mayonnaise makes me insanely happy.
“Okay, wash up,” she says as she licks some mustard off her thumb.
The simple action stirs that all too familiar desire in my gut.
Give her time. That’s what I said I needed to do.
After setting Axel down, I wash my hands then join her at the table. “Thanks for lunch.”
She smiles at me. “Anytime.”
We’ve eaten together countless times. I can’t even count the number of days I’ve come over here and begged her for lunch so I didn’t have to walk to the diner. I never had to beg much, though. Sometimes I’d even make us lunch in her kitchen and bring it down to eat in her break room with her.
So why does today feel different?
Because we’re different.
“How is your day going?” She opens a bag of chips and pours some onto my plate before sliding it over to me.
“Productive. You?”
“Not too bad.” She yawns.
“Tired?”
“Yeah. More calls last night. I’m telling you, these guys are getting annoying.”
“Guys. Did they actually talk last night?” A trickle of something dangerously close to a warning slides up my spine. Random phone calls in the middle of the night? Typically, spammers lean more toward daylight hours.
“No, I ignored them now that I know they’re bot calls. But one did leave a weird message.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “What kind of message?”
“Here.” She licks more mustard off her thumb, then pulls her phone out of her pocket and opens it to voicemail. After tapping on the screen, the sound of heavy breathing plays in the apartment.
One second.
Two.
Three.
And then the call ends.
“You’re sure they’re spam?” I take the phone from her and check the readout. It’s an unknown number, but give me a few minutes and my computer, and I’ll have it nailed down.
“I mean, who else could it be?”
Maybe a jaded ex-boyfriend.
My face must have screamed his name because Anastasia rolls her eyes. “It is not Jack, Sawyer.”
“You’ve talked to him since the breakup?”
“Well, no. But the guy is FBI. He has a lot more important things to do than call me in the middle of the night.”
But he would know well enough to block his number. “Can you let me look into the calls? I can try to get a location at the very least.”
“Sawyer, this is not worth your energy, trust me.” She smiles and turns her phone face down. “Tell me, what’s new in your life? See any good movies lately?”
Even with her dismissal, the unease grows. Heavy breathing isn’t an AI bot. It’s not even a spam caller.
So who is calling Anastasia late at night?
“Nah,” I say, letting it go…for now. I’ll run the records tonight and see what I can come up with. Until then, I’ll let her play it off. No sense in worrying her when I’m not even sure something is going on. “I am planning to start a re-run watch of Hogan’s Heroes, though.”
“Really?” She perks up. “I love that show. Haven’t seen it since I watched it with my dad.”
“Want to watch it with me? I won’t watch any episodes without you this time,” I add, remembering the time I accidentally kept watching Scrubs after she’d seen episode one with me.
Apparently, I’d silently agreed to watch them with her, and she’d made me re-watch episodes two and three all over again until we were caught up together.
“I would love that! First one tonight here at my place? I can make us dinner.”
“How about I bring dinner, and you make the popcorn,” I counter.
She smiles. “Deal. My day just got even better. Thanks, Sawyer.”
“Of course.” I would walk on a bed of nails if it made her happy. Bringing dinner and a show over seems like such a small ask in exchange for being the reason my heart beats.