Brooke looked at Tyler, who met her eyes. “Do you mind staying with me? It’s Sunday. You don’t work Sundays, right?”
“Right.” Tyler’s voice was careful, like he was trying not to seem too eager. “I can stay. If that’s what you want.”
Nick looked between them, his expression shifting from concern to something else. Something accepting. “Okay, then. But, Brooke, call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“I will. Promise.”
Gina and Nick left together a few minutes later, with Gina extracting promises from both Tyler and Brooke that they’d call if anything changed, if Brooke felt worse, or if they needed anything.
Then it was just the two of them in the quiet house.
Tyler cleared the breakfast dishes while Brooke stayed at the table, nursing a second cup of coffee. It was easy, the way he moved around the kitchen while she watched, the quiet between them comfortable instead of awkward.
“You’re good at that,” Brooke observed as he loaded the dishwasher.
“At what?”
“Being in a kitchen. Making breakfast. The whole domestic thing.”
Tyler smiled. “Survival skill. When you’re on your own long enough, you either learn to cook or live on takeout.”
“I’m terrible at cooking.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true. I can make coffee and bake pastries, but actual cooking? Meh. I don’t really enjoy it.” She took another sip of coffee. “I mean, I cook, of course, so I don’t starve, but...” She let her voice fade away as she realized she was rambling.Brilliant, Brooke. Absolutely brilliant.
She glanced at the counter where her phone sat in a charging cradle. As she slid her chair back, Tyler turned. “Can I get you something?”
“I was going to check my phone. Gina insisted it stay out here on do not disturb...you know how she was last night.”
“She cares about you. You’re fortunate to have a friend like her. Nick too. I know you’re cousins, but you seem like you’re friends too.”
“We are friends,” she agreed. “He’s only been in town a few months. He had a rough time for a while. Bad breakup, and he was trying to find his footing. But he’s good now.”
“They were telling me a little about things earlier.”
“You mean about how they met? How we all almost died? Those things?”
“Those things.” He grabbed her phone. “I know you mentioned it, and I read the articles about it, but wow, Brooke. The whole thing sounds like it was crazy.”
He passed her the phone, and when their fingers touched, a jolt shot through her, quickening her pulse. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his fingers lingering before he pulled his hand back.
Brooke cleared her throat and switched on her phone. Messages started coming in right away. Three texts from Joe, two from Steph, one from Jocelyn, a bunch from the running club and the coffee shop staff, and even a few from customers.
Her dad had left a long, rambling voicemail, offering his place for a few days while she recovered. Phil’s text was short and to the point:Gotta be careful, sis.
She typed quick responses, assuring them she was fine and thanking them for checking in. She needed to call her dad, but for now, she sent a simple message:I’m okay. Stayed at Gina’s last night. I’ll call you later.
Tyler finished the dishes and joined her at the table, his chair angled so he faced her instead of sitting across, close enough that their knees touched.
“Tell me about your coffee shop,” Tyler said. “The real stuff. Not the social media version or what you tell customers.”
So she did. She told him about the regulars who lined up before the doors were even unlocked, about Mr. Landers and how he ordered the same thing every single day until one morning he didn’t. “Now he orders something different almost every time. Sometimes it’s the daily special, but usually it’s just whatever sounds good tohim that day. It’s odd, but I think he’s enjoying the adventure.”
“Adventures in coffee.” Tyler smiled. “I can see that.”
She talked about the morning rush—how it had its own rhythm and how she could usually tell what kind of day the town was having just by the way people asked for their coffee.
