I don’t have the energy. Not for jokes, not for charm, not for pretending I’m okay.
Hell... I don’t even care enough to try.
To kill some time before the barbershop, we decide to stop at the Cozy Pines Cafe. It’s one of the many places in this town that Callie’s family owns, like the Turtle Bay Tavern and the Frosty Mountain Resort. While I gaze out the window, Callie finds ways to fill the silence. She makes casual conversation, and I make sure to grunt at all the appropriate times. I love Callie... I do. She’s been that pesky, annoying sister figure since we were kids, but it’s already been a long day, and small talk is not what I need right now.
Outside the truck, the view opens up to the mountains as we make it into town. Turtle Bay in all of its glory. The winding road cuts through trees just starting to get their leaves back, and a blanket of various shades of green covers each one. Spring is here. Wildflowers are pushing up along the edges of the road with little bursts of pink, purple, and yellow that don’t look real. It’s beautiful in a way that almost pisses me off, like the world has the nerve to keep going when my world stopped months ago.
The lake appears between the trees, catching the sunlight just right as we curve around the bend, and for a second, everything in my chest loosens. That view has always hit me hard. It did when I was a kid, and it still does now. Oregon is where I grew up, sure, but this place, Adirondack Lake, has always felt like an extension of home. Like something in the air here recognizes me, even when I barely recognize myself.
Tom, Callie, andSunnyhead into the cafe first to grab us a table while I take Ellie for a short walk. It’s the off-season, so the town’s quieter than usual, but a few people are still milling around. Every single one of them gives Ellie and me a generous amount of space. I don’t hold it against them. Between my face, my mood, and the working-dog vest she’s wearing, we’re basically a walking “do not approach”sign.
Works for me.
I walk into the cafe and take a long breath, letting the smell of coffee fill my lungs. If there’s one thing in this world I’m particular about, it’s coffee. Back in Oregon, as captain at the firehouse, I forced everyone to drink Stumptown, specifically the Hair Bender blend. I didn’t give a damn about the hipster culture behind it, but a good cup of coffee was the difference between me surviving my morning or ripping someone’s head off.
Callie prides herself on all their fancy tea blends here, flowery, fruity, and whatever else she deems homeopathic and delicious, but she also values a good cup of coffee. They always have some seasonal blends with names likeCampfire HugorMaple Sunrise. Cute. But I have yet to visit and find one that comes close to Stumptown’s bold, layered hit of citrus, dark chocolate, and raisin. Maybe that’s something I can work on now that I’ll be living here.
Eyes on the menu above the register, I walk up to the counter. Once I’m ready, I look down, expecting to see someone there, ready to take my order. Instead, all I see is a woman who looks like she’s about ready to fight the cappuccino machine. She doesn’t even seem to notice I’m here, so I take the opportunity to watch the disaster unfolding before me.
The machine is squirting out coffee at random, making an absolute mess. She hits it one more time before turning around and reaching for a tray of croissants. The tray must be hot because she squeals and drops half of them on the floor. Croissants spin like frisbees in every direction while curses I’ve never even heard before fly out of her mouth. It’s loud enough for me to hear, but low enough that I’m sure no one else has any idea of the massacre that’s happening back behind the counter.
Once she’s cleaned it all up and it’s clear she’s not coming over to greet me or take my order, I decide to get her attention.
“Excuse me, Miss.” I wave my hand at her until the iciest blue eyes I’ve ever seen land on me.
Instead of smiling like most people in customer service do, she rolls her eyes and sighs in a long-suffering and dramatic manner.
Well, that’s different.
“Can I get a—”
“No.” She cuts me off. “We don’t serve homeless people here.”
Her words catch me off guard, but it’s the way she delivers them, full of authority, with zero hesitation, that has my brows shooting up as I bark out a laugh, causing my wide chest to move up and down.
She tucks a piece of her shoulder-length ashy-blonde hair behind her ear. “Is something funny?”
God, she’sserious.
“Yeah, actually.” I chuckle, both amused and irritated. “By the looks of it, you don’t serve anybody,” I smirk, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
The woman’s icy blue eyes narrow on me. “Great, I’ll add being insulted by a homeless man at work to my list of shit that I didn’t need today,” she sneers.
My face splits into a grin. This woman has some gall, I’ll give her that. “I’m not homeless.”
“Are you sure?” She folds her arms over her chest and looks me up and down. “Because you could have fooled me.”
“Do you always talk to your customers like this?” I snort, matching her callous venom with my own.
“Do you not own a mirror?” she snaps back. “Also, I’m still not convinced you aren’t homeless, and since you haven’t paid for anything, that means you’re not technically a customer.”
I roll my jaw back and forth, grinding through the frustration. Looking around, I notice how bright and cheerful the atmosphere is. Plants are everywhere, filled with life, and decorations with happy quotes are hung all around. It’s in complete contrast to this woman before me.
“Are you sure you work here?” I ask because I’m having a hard time believing that Callie would hire someone with this much of an attitude problem.
Her eyes narrow, somehow becoming even colder than they were seconds ago. “Are you going to order something?”
“You really don’t belong here,” I mumble under my breath, but the sharp exhale she lets out tells me she heard every damn word.
