Logan was right. It’s stupid that I even thought of bringing her a coffee this morning, let alone accepted the one Almapushed on me. Why didn’t I protect my heart? I’m asking for Scottie to squash it in front of my face.
I’m five steps from her office when I stop myself and stare at the cup in my hand.
This was a bad idea.
Watching my mom slowly fade away taught me a lesson I’ve clearly forgotten: wanting something badly enough doesn’t make it yours—no matter how hard you show up for it.
Scottie chose someone else.
I turn around, and instantly knock into someone.
“Watch it!”
And in spite of myself, I grin. “Scottie!”
I haven’t seen her in months, and my excitement is as automatic as it is unfortunate. I have to remind myself that she’s part one-that-got-away, part might-have-been.
With a side of only-in-my-dreams.
She adjusts her big tortoiseshell glasses, but not before I can see the pink in her cheeks. It looks extra pretty against her pale blonde hair and oversized white dress shirt. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her blush before, but knowing her, it’s probably more like annoyance.
I have that effect on people.
“Lucas?” She takes a step back, looks me over, and then snaps her eyes up to my face, almost like she shouldn’t be looking at all.
And it’s thatshouldn’tthat reminds me to take a step back, too.
Alma’s words rattle in my head like a bad cough.If I find out you two cheat?—
“Here,” I say, thrusting the drink in her hand. “I went by Meant to Bean this morning, and they were so used to making me an extra drink that I couldn’t stop them.”
“Oh,” Scottie says. She stares at the drink. “It was nice of you to bring it up, but I’m trying to cut back on coffee. Kayla bought me that big Quench tumbler last year and told me she’s going to spot-check it to make sure I’m getting enough water every day. She’s mean since she got pregnant.”
Our owner doesn’t mess around when it comes to her water obsession, but this is more than a statement about cutting back on coffee.
She’s cutting back onme.
I stand there, stunned by my own stupidity.
“Got it,” I say with a nod, reaching my hand out to take the coffee back from her. “Here, I can toss it out for you.”
She yanks it back so fast, hot mocha splashes out of the sip hole in the lid and onto the floor between us. I grab the napkin from around my to-go cup and wipe the floor.
“On second thought, I’ll let you keep that one,” I say, barely letting myself chuckle. “How are, uh, things? With, uh, Jake?”
And then Scottie does something utterly un-Scott-worthy.
She beams. “So good! Really good. Just great, really.” Her eyes flit past me, looking left and right. She seems acutely aware that there are other people on the floor watching us.
Considering I’ve never seen Scottie care whatanyonethinks, this is weird.
“Uh, cool. Good. Glad to hear it.” I look at the floor. At the cup. Fold my arms. “Anyway, I have a camp, so?—”
“Yeah, I gotta get to work,” she says at the same time before taking a sip of her drink and then sort of … saluting me.
The whole thing is weird.
I nod and turn, and get a few yards down the hallway when I hear a satisfied sigh.
