“You’re going to tell me why you ran into my coffee shop like a bat out of hell? Or, are we going to pretend that’s normal?”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my throat, the noise so foreign in my ears—I can’t remember the last time I found something funny, let alone laughed. “Maybe I was looking for a cup of coffee.”
“We both know you’d pick an energy drink over a cup of coffee any day.”
My lips curl with something resembling a smile—the muscles feeling tight from lack of use. “Maybe I wanted to see if the hard work I put into that place paid off.”
Once the words leave my mouth, it dawns on me I didn’t even take the time to look at the space Luke created. Bennett and I helped him with the renovations in the months before opening. The realization that the last time I was here I was with Bennett hits me like a truck.
Even though he can’t see me, Luke picks up on the thoughts going through my brain—I’m sure he’s no stranger to how grief kicks your knees in when you think you have it under control.
I take in a deep breath and exhale in an attempt to recenter myself. “I decided I was done hiding,” I say. “It was time to come home and deal with everything.”
I don’t have to explain whateverythingis, not to Luke who had to deal with the loss of Bennett too. While Bennett was my best friend, he was Luke’s brother.
“And when you say deal, you mean what exactly?” he asks, and I can hear the apprehensiveness in his voice.
“I mean, get back to reality,” I answer, and I hope it’s the right one. The one that he’ll accept and not dwell on.
“Sure,” Luke says, stretching out the word, and I can basically hear the way he doesn’t believe me in his voice. “And by get back to reality, you me?—”
“I’m fine,” I cut him off, feeling defensive all of a sudden. I’ve spent the last year trying to get to a place where I can think of Bennett and what happened to him without plummeting into what I accepted as a panic attack—I have trauma response training as a firefighter, but it is much harder to recognize the signs in yourself than it is with others.
What happened on the side of the road, when I heard the sirens of the ambulance while I was holding an unconscious pregnant woman in the middle of the night, was a panic attack—and I refuse to let that happen ever again.
“If it quacks like a duck, right?” Luke says after a moment.
“What?”
“If it looks like a duck, acts like a duck, quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck.” He answers as if I’m the one not making any sense.
“I don’t know how to talk to you when you say stupid shit.”
Luke sighs dramatically on the other end of the call, and I almost move the phone speaker away from my ear.
“What I’m saying is, it sounds like you believe that if you keep saying you’re fine, that you’ll actually be fine.”
“You’re still saying stupid shit.”
Another sigh, and I’m reminded of all the other times in my life when Luke wasn’t just Bennett’s annoying little brother, but mine too.
“It’s not my fault you can’t understand the idiom.”
“Fuck your idioms,” I fire back.
Luke’s laughter echoes in my ear. “I’m glad you're back, man.”
CHAPTER 6
RUMI
“That was weird.”I look up from the playmat I’m sitting on with Evee to find Ava walking into the back office, her hands on her hips as she shakes her head.
“Did you call Luke?” I ask from my spot, surrounded by baby books, stuffed animals, and other toys we keep here.
The back office is always spotless, thanks to Ava. When the door is closed, it becomes a quiet haven amidst the bustling shop. Shelves line the walls, each one neatly stocked with bags of coffee beans, containers of alternative milks, and extra supplies for the machines. There’s a polished wooden desk sat against the far wall, clutter-free of course. Behind the desk, we keep Evee’s play area—the only part of the neat office that is constantly turning into a mess—and a little foldable toddler sleeper for when she naps here.
“Yep,” she answers, sitting down at the desk chair and letting out a sigh. “Apparently he was a friend of his brother’s.” I pretend not to watch her move her laptop and her planner an inch to ensure they are straight and proper distance apart before she spins the chair around to face Evee and me. The soft light filtering through the window casts a calm glow over her, making her waves look more orange than red.
