Page 9 of By Any Beans Necessary

"Looks painful," Greg observed, polishing a glass with a rag that had seen better days.

"Feels it too," Jeff admitted, his gaze lingering on the door as if it promised salvation.

"Got plans, then? Going to charm the world with that crooked nose and your dubious wit?" Greg chuckled, the sound echoing hollowly in the nearly empty bar.

Jeff had taught the younger man everything he knew, never realizing that he was going to be his replacement once he quit working at The Rusty Hinge.

"Maybe I will," Jeff shot back, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Can't be worse than this."

"Hey, don't knock it. This—" Greg gestured grandly to the dimly lit room. "—is the stuff dreams are made of."

"But the dreams get stale. Trust me," Jeff grumbled. "Give it a few years." He pushed off from the bar, feeling the weight of every mistake he'd ever made dragging at his heels. There was a life out there beyond these sticky floors and the bottom of a glass, and he was going to do whatever it took to find it.

"Where you headed?" Greg called after him, but Jeff didn't turn back.

"Anywhere but here," he said simply, stepping into the cool night air, leaving behind the comfort of familiar shadows.

The clang of the bar's back door shutting behind him was like a definitive period at the end of a long, rambling sentence full of regrets. Jeff stood for a moment, his breath visible in the night air, eyes adjusting to the stark difference between the amber glow of streetlights and the dim interior he'd just left.

"Jeff, hey, hold up."

He turned to see Hunter jogging toward him with Avery in tow; her arm looped through his as they navigated the uneven sidewalk. Avery's laughter floated to him, a sound filled with genuine warmth.

"Didn't expect to see you out here," Jeff said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"We're on dessert duty," Hunter explained, his smile easy. "Avery's genius needs some last-minute ingredients."

"Ah, the perils of culinary perfection," Jeff quipped, glancing at Avery's sheepish grin.

"Exactly," Avery chimed in, her green eyes twinkling. "But hey, we're not just here to raid the grocery store. We were actually hoping to run into you."

"Planning a late-night intervention?" Jeff raised an eyebrow.

"Something like that," Hunter answered with a serious undertone. "We wanted to invite you to church with us this Sunday."

"Church?" Jeff echoed, the word feeling foreign on his tongue.

"Yep," Avery confirmed. "It's...different, but good different."

"Good different could be good," Jeff mused, more to himself than them. Could hymns and sermons really scrub clean the tarnish of countless nights wasted?

"Come on," Hunter encouraged, clapping Jeff on the shoulder. "What have you got to lose?"

"Besides my reputation as a heathen?" But Jeff felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Sure, why not?"

"Great." Avery beamed, her enthusiasm contagious. "We'll save you a seat."

"Got it," Jeff chuckled with a nod. The idea didn't seem so preposterous now, not with these two lighting up the night with their easy banter. Maybe this was just the change he was looking for.

The tall woodendoors of the church loomed before him, somehow more intimidating than any bouncer he'd faced in his years of bar hopping. Inside, the air was filled with the scent of polished pews and quiet anticipation. Jeff slid into a back row, hoping Avery would understand if he wasn't ready to sit close to the front. His gaze skimmed over bowed heads and clasped hands.

Then he saw her—Michelle, sunlight incarnate, blonde hair catching the stained-glass colors as she sat near the front. His heart did a strange leap, then settled into a rhythm that spelled trouble with a capital T.

"Quite the turnout," he whispered to himself, watching as Michelle flipped through a hymnal.

Jeff took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was coming next.

As the choir began to sing, their voices soaring high above the congregation, Jeff felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. It was as if each note was a tiny stitch, mending the frayed edges of his soul. He watched as Michelle sang along, her lips moving silently, her eyes closed in rapture. He couldn't help but be drawn to her, to the light that seemed to radiate from her very being.

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