"I can leave. This is weird. I'm making it weird." He's already backing toward the door, movements jerky. "I just thought... after Saturday... but I'm sorry, I'll?—"
"Seth." I hold up a hand. "Breathe."
He stops. Takes a visible breath. His shoulders are up around his ears with tension.
"Did you want to give me the coffee, or wear it?"
That startles a small, surprised laugh out of him. "Right. Coffee." He approaches the counter like it might explode, sets both cups down with exaggerated care. "I brought coffee. Thought you might... I mean, I wanted to..."
"Seth." I take one of the cups, and when I look at the label my breath catches. "How did you know my order?"
"Hazelnut latte, extra shot, oat milk?" He's staring at the countertop now, neck getting redder. "Ben told me."
I blink. "Ben told you my coffee order?"
"Yeah. After the festival, I came by your house to check on you." He's turning an impressive shade of crimson. "Ben came out and we talked. He mentioned the coffee thing."
My stomach does a weird flip. "You came to check on me?"
"I wanted to make sure you were okay. After everything with your ex." He still won't look at me. "Ben said you were fine. That you just needed time. And that if I was going to show up, I should bring coffee. Your coffee."
"And you remembered it down." It should be weird. It kind of is weird. But it's also stupidly thoughtful.
"I wrote it down," he admits, pulling a small notepad from his pocket and showing me. There, in neat handwriting:Bea - hazelnut latte, xtra shot, oat milk."Didn't want to mess it up."
My chest tightens. "You made a note."
"I make notes about everything." He tucks the notepad away quickly. "It's—I know it's weird?—"
"It's thoughtful." And it is. Stupidly, annoyingly thoughtful. "I just... I don't want you to think that Saturday meant—that we're?—"
His face falls slightly. "About that. I'm sorry if I made things awkward. I know you were panicking, and I should have—I mean, I didn't mind, but—" His voice cracks. "Not that I expected anything, or thought it meant we were... together. Or anything like that."
Relief washes over me, followed immediately by something that feels suspiciously like disappointment. "Okay. Good. So we're on the same page."
"Right. Same page." His shoulders slump just slightly before he straightens them again. "Complete understanding. Friends who... had a weird moment."
"Exactly."
"Great." He's nodding, grabbing his own coffee just for something to do. Takes a sip, burns his tongue, tries to hide it.
I can't help it, I smile. "You okay, Deputy?"
"Fine. Coffee's hot. That's what coffee is." He sets it down quickly. "River Brooks was here."
The subject change is so abrupt I almost laugh. "Stalking me?"
His neck flushes darker. "I was patrolling. Doing my job. Saw him walk in."
"Uh-huh."
"So... what did he want?" He's trying to sound casual. Failing miserably.
"He offered me a job. Marketing and some stocktake work at the hardware store."
His expression softens—pride, maybe. Relief. "That's great, Bea. Really great. You'd be really good at that."
The quiet sincerity catches me off guard. "Thanks."
