“Come on, I don’t think that’s true,” I press gently.
“Honestly?” She hesitates. “Somewhere far away from here.”
Her answer throws me off guard. It’s void of her usual playful tone because it’s real. That single sentence has shown me something about her that I already felt to be true.
The air around us grows heavy. “I can take you away from here.”
Her eyes widen, and she blinks a couple of times before pulling in a deep breath. She gestures to the line behind me. “A lot of people are waiting, so you really should go.”
“What about your question for me?”
She clears her throat. “Tomorrow. I really need to take these orders. People get quite grumpy when they have to wait too long for their coffee.”
I grab my cup from the counter. “Okay, but just so you know, if you’d asked me the same question, my answer would be anywhere you are.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t say that, Logan.” There’s a sadness in her voice that makes my chest tighten.
“Even if it’s true?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, I see something raw and vulnerable flash across her face. “Especially if it’s true.”
Layla appears beside Tessa again, nudging her with her elbow. “The line’s getting longer, Tess.”
“Right.” Tessa straightens. “Logan’s leaving. Right?” She looks at me.
“Yeah.” I nod, but I don’t move right away. I don’t want this moment to end. There’s an unspoken truth lingering between us that feels dangerous to ignore.
I can see how the other customers waiting would stress out Tessa, so I step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” she confirms.
I turn to leave, but something makes me glance back. Tessa is already helping the next customer, but I catch the tail end of something that stops me.
She reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and her sleeve slides down just slightly.
A bruise. Dark purple. Fresh.
It’s on the inside of her forearm, shaped like fingers.
My stomach drops.
She notices me staring and quickly drops her arm, her expression shifting to something guarded.
The moment was fleeting, but I know what I saw. I know what I’ve seen—multiple times. Tessa needs help. I feel it down to my bones.
I want to rush back to her to ask her if she’s okay. But the words stick in my throat because I already know the answer.
She’s not okay, but she won’t admit it.
I’m certain this isn’t a singular event at this point. It wasn’t an accident. Bruises on her skin are now a pattern. I have to fix this. I just don’t know how. I can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.
Turning toward the counter of supplies, I grab a napkin. I borrow a pen from a woman sitting a table over and write a note to Tessa.
Call me anytime for anything. I can help you. I can keep you safe. You can trust me.
I write my cell number under the note and return the pen.
In a few quick strides, I’m back at the counter. I ignore the grumbles from the customers I stepped in front of and slide the napkin across the counter to Tessa.
