AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nothing,” I replied, putting the tray down. “He’s the one who followed me and got himself in trouble with his girlfriend.”
Gwen picked up her cocktail. “I swear she follows him.”
“You’re not the only one,” Brandon muttered. “Come on. Let’s go and save him.”
They disappeared, and I sat down, pulling the double vodka and cranberry juice closer to me.
“By the way, Gwen,” I said, sipping it through the straw. “She’s a bit put out that you never invite her for dinner.”
Ash snorted.
“That’s because she insulted my cottage pie.” Gwen stirred her drink.
“That’s exactly what I told her,” I replied.
“I bet that went down well,” Ash said.
I smiled, clasping the straw between my teeth. “Not with her, but I thought it was funny.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ihad my car back.
That was all I cared about. Walking everywhere was getting tiresome, and I really hated my mum’s car.
Evidently, they’d found nothing in it, and I hoped that was the beginning of the end of my ordeal as a murder suspect.
We’d certainly discovered information that gave other people far more motive than I would have in any universe. I just wanted Declan Tierney to leave me alone—there were others out there with far higher stakes than me.
Financial, emotional stakes.
Real ones.
Not just a mild annoyance.
Heck, if I wanted to kill every man who didn’t understand that ‘no means no,’ I’d have been a serial killer by my twentieth birthday.
Thanks to Ash, who’d asked Tracy on one trip to the bar, I also now knew that Guy Quinn had been at Grandpa’s wake. That meant he likely heard my disagreement with him.
I was pretty sure everyone had.
But all I really cared about right now was getting a cup of coffee.
I pushed open the door to F*ckoffee, the coffee shop owned by Heather and Kate Cooper. They’d promised me a free cup at the wake, and honestly, even if they didn’t honour it given that I was now a murder suspect, I was still happy to support a small business.
That was one thing I loved about this town. The high street was full of small, independent shops, some of which had been owned by generations of families. Somehow, Fox Point had been untouched by the high street deaths that had taken over a lot of the UK, and I’d never been more grateful for the bubble this place seemed to exist in.
I wondered if it was because we had independent shops and not chains. If we wanted something from one of the stores, we had to actually go and get it, not just order it online.
I mean, I knew a few of the storeshada website you could order on, but you still had to… you know. Go and get it yourself.
Archaic? Perhaps. But I kind of liked it.
As I walked into the coffee shop, I was reminded of why that was the case.
F*ckoffee was adorable. The inside was decorated in shades of a pinky-peach and lemon yellow, with the back wall a simple white. They were adorned with photos of coffee and beans and all things coffee shop-ish, for lack of a better way to describe it, and every table had a small glass vase with a single sunflower in.
There was even a big corkboard by the door with a pay-it-forwards scheme. I paused to look it over and saw every kind of order imaginable from a regular coffee to a vanilla latte, and some even had a cookie or muffin added on. A small note at the top told people in need to grab a note and take it to the counter for your order to be filled with no questions asked.
