Page 23 of By Any Beans Necessary

"Then we'll be your compass," Jenesa declared, squeezing her hand. "Right, girls?"

"Right," they chorused.

"Even if our sense of direction is crap," Avery confessed with a wry smile.

"Speak for yourself," Jenesa chuckled.

"Anyway," Michelle's gaze fell back to her untouched pastry. "I appreciate it. Truly."

"Anytime," Candace said, as they all settled into a silence filled with the subtle backdrop of clinking cups and whispered confessions, the three women a fortress around their heartbroken friend.

Chapter Eight

Jeff's fingers danced nervously over the screen of his phone, the contact name 'Michelle Kenney' highlighted and tempting. His thumb hovered over the call button, a physical manifestation of his internal tug-of-war. The academy's crest emblazoned on the wall opposite seemed to mock him from across the classroom, reminding him where his priorities should lie.

"Come on, Jeff. Focus," he muttered to himself, tossing the phone onto the desk as if it were scalding his hand.

He snatched up a crumpled textbook by its spine, forcing his eyes to trace the lines of text about advanced canine training techniques. Unfortunately, the words blurred together, each sentence an echo of Michelle's laughter or the soft cadence of her voice when she'd talk about her dreams for the Coffee Loft.

"Great, now I'm turning into a sap," he scoffed, raking a hand through his brown hair.

"Knock, knock." The door creaked open, and there stood Hunter with his ever-present smirk. "You studying, or are you brooding? Because that face you're making is definitely not the face of a future valedictorian."

"Ha-ha." Jeff's attempt at a smile felt more like a grimace. "Just got a lot on my mind, man."

"Anything you wanna talk about?" Hunter leaned against the doorframe, an eyebrow raised in concern.

"Nothing that's gonna fix itself by talking," Jeff replied, his gaze sliding away to avoid the probing look from his friend.

"All right, if you say so." Hunter shrugged, but his eyes lingered with unspoken questions.

Jeff's hand betrayed him again, reaching out for the silent siren that was his phone. He scrolled through old messages from Michelle, each word a sweet stab to his chest. It would be so easy to type out a message, to try to mend the rift between them with a string of pixels and a prayer.

"Stop it, Jeff," he ordered himself, locking the phone with a decisive click. He imagined Michelle's hazel eyes, usually so bright and full of mirth, clouded with disappointment from their last conversation. "Too much damage," he whispered, conviction waning.

"Seriously? Everything all right?" Hunter's voice cut through his reverie, sharper now, laced with genuine worry. "You know I'm here for you no matter what. Even if you messed up."

"Let me guess, Avery must have heard from Michelle about our latest fight."

"She said...it was a bit of a doozy, and I should probably check-in on you."

"I'm perfect," Jeff lied smoothly, snapping the textbook shut. "Couldn't be better."

Hunter nodded, though clearly unconvinced, then finally retreated, closing the door with a soft click that sounded oddly final.

Alone again, Jeff let out a heavy sigh, the sound filling the emptiness of the room. His heart still hammered with the urge to reach out, to repair, to rewind. Yet the fear of causing furtherharm held him back, a self-imposed isolation that was both punishment and protection.

"Graduation first. Then...we'll see," he murmured to no one, trying to believe his own words. The thought of Michelle, however, just a text away and yet worlds apart, lingered stubbornly, a bittersweet note in the collage of his thoughts.

Two hours later, Jeff tried to get ready for one of the most important moments in his life. This was one of two final exercises that he needed to pass in order to make it through the academy successfully. The whining of dogs and the grass beneath his boots should have been enough to ground him, but Jeff's thoughts were elsewhere. He sat on the edge of the obstacle course, his gaze absently following the other trainees and their canine partners as they ran drills. His mind, however, was a few miles away—on Main Street, at the Coffee Loft, where Michelle was brewing the day's third batch of coffee.

"Parker, you're up next," Danny called out, clipboard in hand. His once-pristine academy uniform now bore the marks of a morning well spent training dogs and their handlers.

"Right, sorry," Jeff mumbled, pushing himself off the bench.

"Hey," Danny said, his tone lowering to something almost resembling tenderness. "You've been off your game lately. Anything you wanna talk about?"

"Nothing much to say," Jeff replied, avoiding eye contact as he clipped the leash onto his partner's collar. The German shepherd whined in protest, clearly sensing the turmoil in his handler's heart.

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