Page 150 of Where Roads Lead

“But you hesitated,” I pointed out, voice sounding small and fragile. “Am I close?”

“Elsie, please. I really, really don’t want to talk about this.” He sucked in a weary breath. “Maybe someday, but not tonight.”

“But—”

“Elsie.” Suddenly he was over me, kissing right below my ear before whispering, “There’s so many other things I’d rather do than go over something that’s ancient history.”

“You’re trying to distract me,” I noted, arching my neck up to give him better access to the spot he was trailing his way down.

“Is it working?”

“For now.”

“Works for me.”

And then, suddenly, I didn’t really feel the need for any more conversation.

Chapter Forty-Three

Will

For someone whose existence was as reliant on caffeine as Elsie’s was, it surprised me the difficulties she had trying to turn an espresso machine on.

“I know how to use normal, old school ones,” she said, reminding me of the ancient Mr. Coffeepot that had been sitting on her counter. “Not this bizarre modern machinery.”

“This bizarre modern machinery makes that coffee you like so much,” I pointed out.

“Which is why I’m willing to learn,” she grumbled, pushing buttons frantically.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” I moved her hand away. “Pressing it a hundred times isn’t going to make it go faster.”

“I just don’t understand why it’s so confusing!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe they force teenagers to operate this crap for minimum wage. It’s inhumane.”

“Who’s forcing teenagers to do what?” Ava came around from the back, ready to stock the pastry shelves.

“All those fast food coffee shops using teens for their cheap labor.”

“What?” Ava asked, looking to me for clarification.

Yeah, sometimes Elsie’s tangents needed a trained ear to decipher.

“I hardly think Starbucks is holding high schoolers at gunpoint and forcing them to make coffee,” I told her. “Job applications are usually done willingly.”

“Whatever. The point is, you’d need some type of advanced engineering degree to figure out the inner workings of something like this.” She stared down the machine as if it were her Everest.

“Or,” I said, “you could sit down and I’ll bring you a coffee, like I always do. No meltdown or engineering degree required.”

“No.” She deflated. “I have to learn.”

“Why?” Ava asked.

“Elsie wants to learn how to open up the café,” I told her, a little proudly.

“Really?”

“I just think it would be useful to know, so I can help you guys out if you ever need it.”

“Oh,” Ava said, attempting a smile. “That’s nice.”