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“I’m not in the coffee shop business.” Sam’s eyes sparkled as he moved out of Weaver’s way so Weaver could access the row of blenders.
“He’s out here saving souls,” Holden added with a chuckle as he rolled through the door of the coffee shop.
“Wouldn’t say that either.” Sam shook his head. “But to answer your question, I saw a need. A lot of struggling kids and not-quite adults around here. The shelter was already up and running, but it didn’t seem to be making enough of a difference. Our clientele needed a purpose.”
“Funny. I always thought shelters were more of a big-city thing.”
“Says who?” Sam quirked his mouth, as close to irritated as I’d seen him. “We get more homeless every year. It’s an everywhere and everyone problem.”
“Sorry.” I winced because I wasn’t usually such a lumbering dumbass.
“You won’t find a place anywhere that doesn’t have problems. This is just my little scrap of earth where I get to make a difference.”
“Saint Sam, throwing truth bombs.” Holden mock saluted Sam. “Doesn’t even drink coffee.”
“You don’t like coffee?”
“Shush. That’s a secret.” A sly smile teased the edges of his mouth. “I like what coffee does for people. Brings people together. Don’t have to drink it to appreciate a good brew.”
Oh. Like how I could appreciate this town, what it gave people, what it was to Knox, and people like Frank and Leon. All day I’d felt like I was circling around some bigger truth, getting closer and closer, like unraveling a case.
Case. Oh yeah. “Sent you a message,” I said to Holden. “Call me later?”
“Will do. Your message was like three pages of text long. I’ve been telling you to write up this case.” Holden had been on me ever since I’d first been on his podcast, reminding me how much I’d enjoyed journalism and English classes in high school. But for the first time, his suggestion wormed past my initial resistance.
“Maybe.” If Knox could follow his heart, his deepest desires, could I unlock dreams I’d long ago put in deep freeze?
“Good.” Holden’s smile slid into alarm as Weaver brought my drink. “Is that the special?”
“Yup. Looks great.” I gave Weaver another encouraging smile before taking a sip. It tasted like coffee and cough syrup, and I had to work to swallow the vile brew down.
“Sam thought black cherry mocha might be an ideal flavor combo to try Weaver out on the blender with.” Holden chuckled. “Weaver, it’s not your fault the non-coffee drinker put himself in charge of the specials board.”
“Cold brew to go?” Sam suggested a little too brightly.
“Please.” As soon as I said the word, I heard Knox’s laugh inside my head, the way he loved when I begged in bed, and how his eyes had pleaded with me the last time we talked. Please. How was I supposed to help when I wasn’t sure where to start?
New drink in hand, I made my way back to my car. Sam loved it here. Frank and Leon too, and Holden sure seemed happy enough. This was Knox’s home, yet without him willing to tell Rob about us, did I have enough of a reason to even think about staying, let alone do it? But at the same time, how could I walk away?
Words from Knox, Sam, Frank, and Leon all bounced around in my brain, but I didn’t feel any closer to—
There. As I pulled into the driveway, there was a perfect rainbow over the house. Had it rained while I was in the coffee shop? It must have sprinkled at some point because there it was, as bright as any I’d ever seen. It made the house look like a postcard or the cover of a book, a rainbow version of one of Safe Harbor’s historic homes.
And in that instant, I finally understood why Aunt Henri left me the house. This wasn’t some investment. An asset to put toward my future. No, this was a part of the community. She’d left it to me, specifically because she’d loved me. She’d loved and trusted me, and maybe I hadn’t known, but I could do right by her now. It was on me to find a purpose for the house and maybe for myself. Aunt Henri had seen so much more than I’d ever given her credit for and had believed in me. Now it was time to pay her back and pay myself forward.
As I stood there staring at the house, my day, my summer, my whole damn life made sense. Forget routine. Fuck schedules and plans. I finally, finally knew what I was supposed to do.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Knox
I didn’t want to go home. And perhaps more depressing, I was no longer sure where home was. The house Monroe was bound to sell sooner or later? The Portland apartment that new tenants already occupied? My mom’s empty condo in Seattle? Even Dad’s house here in Safe Harbor no longer felt like home, but here I was, avoiding Monroe and the house and the mountain of unsaid words and unresolved problems.
