The request caught him off guard. He’d expected to sit and talk, not to help close her shop. But there was something appealing about the idea of working alongside her in her space.
“Sure.”
They fell into an easy rhythm. Tyler stacked chairs while Brooke wiped down tables. She showed him where supplies were kept when he offered to sweep. The movements were practiced and comfortable, like they’d done it dozens of times instead of this being their first.
“You’re good at this,” Brooke observed, watching him maneuver the broom.
“Worked in the student union during college.”
“I didn’t know you went to college.”
“Community. Did one year, taking business classes. I married Jen and started working at the gypsum factory. Didn’t take long to realize I liked working on cars a lot better than dealing with numbers.” Tyler paused. “Seems like a different lifetime now.”
Brooke nodded, understanding in her eyes. “A lot can change over the years.”
They finished the main dining area and moved to the kitchen. Brooke offered to make them cappuccinos.
“Not necessary. I usually just drink the stuff from a canister.”
“How about an Americano?”
“Sure, I guess.” He wasn’t sure what that was, but he was willing to try something different.
She went back to the counter area. As the machine fired up, Tyler rinsed the few dishes left in the sink and loaded the dishwasher.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, coming back with a mug in each hand.
“I don’t mind. Tell me where the soap is, and I’ll start it.”
With the dishwasher providing a quiet background hum, they took chairs at a small table tucked in the corner of the kitchen. This wasn’t the public dining area but her private workspace, where she probably sat to do paperwork and plan menus. The lighting was dim, just the overhead fixtures turned low for closing. It felt intimate in a way that made Tyler’s pulse quicken.
They sat across from each other, coffee mugs between them.
“Can I ask you something?” Brooke said after a moment.
“Anything.”
“What was it like? After they died. How did you...how did you keep going?”
The question caught Tyler off guard. Not because it was inappropriate, but because no one had asked him that in years. People avoided the topic, uncomfortable with his grief.
“Honestly?” Tyler stared into his coffee. “I’m not sure I did keep going. Not really. I existed. Went through the motions. But actually living? That took a long time to figure out again.”
“What changed?” She leaned forward, and Tyler caught a whiff of her perfume, or maybe it was her shampoo. Whatever it was, he liked it.
“Nothing dramatic. Just...eventually the pain wasn’t quite so sharp. I could think about them without feeling like I was drowning. Could remember the good times instead of just the end.”
He looked up at her. “Being away was good. Necessary. And then it wasn’t. For the last three or four years, all I could think about was being here. In Irma. Around the mountains. Being home. But now...” He shook his head as his shoulders sagged.
Brooke was quiet for a moment. “I’m terrified of losing people,” she said softly. “My mom died three years ago. Just went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up. I found her when I went to pick her up for church.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It broke something in me. Made me realize how fragile everything is. How quickly someone can just...be gone.” She wrapped her hands around her mug. “That’s part of why I struggle with trust. With letting people in. Because what if they leave? What if I lose them?”
“Trust isn’t easy,” he admitted.
“You’re telling me. You know about my friend Kelsey? About what she did?”
