“Caleb’s in town. I saw him this morning, at Watchmere Light. That’s all. It probably doesn’t mean anything other than that relationship is over.”
“Oh.Oh.”
Grimacing, I meet her gaze. “Yeah.Oh.”
“You saw him on your run, or…” She lets the or drift off meaningfully.
Water rushes over my knuckles, and I belatedly realize I’m squeezing the heck out of the bottle in my hands.
“So he saw you, too, then.” Fig hops over to the water puddled on the floor next to me, giving herself a quick bath.
Glad to have been of service, Fig.
“He’d gone on a morning swim.” I close my eyes, like that will shut out the memory of him dripping seawater like a Greek god. “We talked for a minute.”
Yeah, closing my eyes definitely didn’t help.
Gunner licks my ankle.
“Well, that definitely could explain the lighthouse vision part, huh?” Rose takes the water bottle from me. “Have you had coffee? Because I sure haven’t.”
We both look up at the fucked-up espresso machine, and I sigh. “My pistachio latte is done. Want to split it with me?”
“It’s probably cold now,” Rose says, then stands, brushing off her hands on the front of her jeans before offering me one. I take it, and my sister helps me stand on my own. “Why don’t we treat ourselves to Second Cup? Can you open later today?”
“You know I can. Tourist season is pretty much over.”
“Just making sure. I can always bring you back something.”
I glance down at Gunner, and the puddle of water Fig’s still bathing in. “No, I think getting out of here for a minute would help me… get it out of my head.”
The imprint of the lighthouse is still seared to the back of my eyelids.
Walking around and getting some coffee can’t hurt.
“Yep. You need caffeine. Hot caffeine. Not chunky pistachio mess.” She scowls at the cup I made. “Come on.” Rose’s hand moves up my arm until she links herself around my elbow, and I sigh, leaning on her, still slightly sick from the vision.
The vision, and from seeing Caleb.
Not that he made me feel sick, but the regret that I can’t ever seem to shake when I think of him, welling up from where I buried it deep inside me.
“Do you care about taking your apron off?” Rose asks gently, like she knows how fragile I am right now.
I hate being fragile, and I hate that she knows I am when it comes to him.
“Why would I care?” The question is brittle, and fraught, and tired all at once. “We’ve known everyone here our whole lives.” And the only one I’d care about the way I look left when I told him I couldn’t be with him anymore.
Funnily enough, he’d care the least about how I look.
“Okay, alright,” Rose says, leading me through the front door, leaving Fig and Gunner to their own devices as she locks the shop door behind her with her copy of my key.
The morning’s warmed already, and the scent of Second Cup’s roasting beans fills the air.
Rose hums a tune under her breath, one I don’t recognize, which means she’s likely working on a new song. It’s sad, but not hopeless, and I let her magic wash over me as we walk wordlessly to the little café down the street.
There’s a line out the door when we get there, a mix of locals and tourists, and Rose and I share a frown.
“Weirdly busy,” Rose says, and the owner, Mari Cruz, waves at us through the window, gesturing for us to come inside and bypass the line.
