“A firefighter in the car? That’s so cool!” Noah says.
I huff a laugh as Audrey starts the car.
“Well, where am I going?” she asks.
“Oh, right.” I tap my address into the GPS, and once it’s set, Audrey backs out of the driveway and we’re on our way.
“Are you working today, Mr. Firefighter?”
“He has a name, Noah,” Audrey says.
“I forgot it.”
“Then ask.”
He huffs. “What’s your name? I’m sorry I forgot but there are so many of you.”
I huff a laugh. “It’s okay, bud. It’s JJ.”
“That’s right!”
“And no, I’m not working today. Not until Tuesday.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of days off. Mom, why don’t you get that many days off?”
Audrey smirks. “Well, if I worked as long as JJ did, then I would.”
“She’s right,” I say, glancing at him in the backseat. “I work for a whole day. I go in in the morning, around the time you start school, and I don’t leave until the next morning.”
“Wow, so you work when I’m sleeping?”
“That’s right.”
“Holy cow. That’s nuts. Can you put the music on, Mom?”
The sudden change of subject has me laughing to myself. Audrey puts the radio on. I get the feeling she wants to ask me something or talk, but she doesn’t say a single word to me. It doesn’t feel weird, but I keep waiting for something.
When she pulls up in front of my house, she does say, “Hope to see you again.”
“Thank you so much for the ride.”
“Any time.”
“Bye, JJ!” Noah calls from the back seat.
“Later, bud. See you soon.”
I wave, and as the car door closes, I hear Noah say, “He saidsoon!”
I head into my house, take the quickest shower of my life, change my clothes, and head out to meet my brother. I can’t imagine what’s so important that he needs to meet me right now. Maybe something with Hollis? I’m the first person they call though. Unless I missed another call that I didn’t notice.
I pull up to the small cafe and park in the even smaller lot. It holds only a couple cars, and my truck hardly fits in it—never mind with Nash’s truck already in here. I do my best to wiggle in, the poor tiny Ford between us looking like a Hot Wheels car.
The building is old, the business passed down a few generations. It used to just be a bakery back in the day, but with times changing, it’s turned into a full cafe that offers all the same hip drinks as the rest of them, only the clientele hasn’t really changed much. I keep waiting for the day some hipster discoversit and makes it famous. Beatrice—Betty’s granddaughter—would deserve that.
I head inside, the bell above the door jingling to announce my entrance. I’m unable to miss my giant of a brother taking up the corner of the cafe. It smells like a mix of coffee and pastry, the same way you’d expect any other cafe to smell.
The décor is simple with artistic photos of coffee beans and muffins on the walls. There is a long stand up counter along the window for those not wanting to sit, and a handful of small tables and chairs. Most people grab and go here, but I have seen the tables full.
