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“I didn’t ask for this.”
“You’ve said that about everything I’ve brought you.”
“I can get my own coffee.”
“I was already pouring one.”
He held his cup.
I looked inside mine.
Black.
No sugar.
Exactly the way I drank it.
“You remembered.”
He leaned against the bar.
“You used to put enough sugar in your coffee to turn it into syrup.”
“I was seventeen.”
“You said it helped you study.”
“It gave me headaches.”
“I noticed.”
I took a drink.
He didn’t ask about the investigation.
He didn’t look at the files.
He simply stood on the other side of the bar drinking his coffee.
The silence wasn’t comfortable.
It wasn’t uncomfortable either.
It was unfamiliar.
Like him.
“Rylie said you traveled for three years,” I said.
“Rylie talks too much.”
“She always did.”
“Trigger is worse.”
“I noticed.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
