Page 14 of Steeped In Problems

For a moment, Tanner just stood there, letting the noise and light settle around him. He wondered what the old him would say if he could see the life he’d built now. He wondered if it was enough to simply hold things together.

He caught Kristy’s eye just for a second. She flashed a wide smile, then went back to wrangling a new order. It was easy, when he was around her, to forget what hurt. To just be.

He went behind the counter, picked up a rag, and started in on the coffee stains, wiping them into neat, invisible lines. The shop was full of people, but he felt—maybe for the first time—like he belonged.

Tomorrow, there’d be new stories. New faces. New messes to clean up. But for now, the Brave Badge was his, and Kristy was here, and that was enough.

Chapter Five

Kristy was solo on the espresso station, Daisy purring along, Tanner at the register with his usual “I’m not listening to your jokes” face. She popped the portafilter with a satisfying click and knocked the puck into the trash. Then she got to lining up the morning pastries in the display case: four lemon loaves in the front, blueberry scones behind, two gluten-frees in the back like they might infect the others. It was oddly soothing, and she let herself get lost in the repetition, humming along to whatever 80s pop station Rhonda left on.

The door opened, and Kristy straightened, ready to meet the next customer with her best “I totally slept more than four hours” smile.

That’s when she saw him. Mark. Black hair, brown eyes, skin already tan from his obsessive morning runs. He stood just inside the doorway, looking around like he owned the place or was about to audit it. He hadn’t changed. Still wore that tech-bro pullover that screamed, “I’m too good for business casual.” Still had the posture of someone who spent his days telling other people how they were wrong.

Kristy’s breath got snagged somewhere in her lungs. The smile she’d been saving turned brittle. She almost hoped he wouldn’t see her, but that was like hoping Daisy wouldn’t need descaling every week.

Mark made eye contact, then started across the room with a slow, practiced confidence. He ignored the occupied tables, the regulars in the corner who waved, and even the family with a pair of toddlers who immediately began wailing for muffins. Kristy’s hands, so steady two seconds ago, started trembling as she tried to load the portafilter. The grounds went everywhere.

She wiped her palms on her apron and tried to remember how to stand. Tanner, still at the register, didn’t miss a beat. His eyes flicked to Kristy, then to Mark, then back to Kristy. She could almost see his jaw tightening, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet.

“Kristy,” Mark greeted. Not a question. Not a surprise. Just her name, like a password. He let it hang for a second, then added, “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

She forced her face into neutral. “Hi, Mark.”

He leaned an elbow on the counter, casual but somehow predatory. “You know, I thought I’d check out the new coffee shop everyone’s raving about. Didn’t realize you’d traded scrubs for an apron.”

His voice was the same, too—just loud enough to carry, just sharp enough that the word “apron” sliced a little deeper than it should have.

Kristy felt herself flush, and not from the steam wand. She picked up a clean cup and nearly dropped it. She tried to will her hands steady, but they had other plans. The cup clattered against the drip tray, and a couple of the regulars looked up.

“Can I get you something?” she asked, keeping her tone businesslike.

“Americano,” he said. “Black. Just like always.”

She turned her back to him as quickly as possible, jammed the portafilter into place, and hit the button with unnecessary force. The machine vibrated. Kristy stared straight ahead, waiting for the coffee to brew, wishing she could be anywhere else than where she was at the moment.

Mark didn’t seem to notice her unease. “So, how’s the new gig? You enjoying the slower pace, or do you miss the ‘meaning’ in your work?”

Kristy bit her lip— hard. “I like it here,” she said, pouring the shot into a to-go cup. “People are nicer.”

He laughed, low and fake. “Sure. If you say so.”

The cup slipped a little in her hand as she placed it on the counter, but she caught it before it could spill. “Four eighty,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

Mark tapped his phone against the card reader, and the tip prompt popped up. He ignored it, of course, and gave her a smirk that made it clear he’d noticed the omission.

“Keep the change,” he said, even though there wasn’t any.

She didn’t respond. She just stared at the cup, willing him to take it and leave.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, still smiling that Mark-smile, eyes flicking up and down the front of her apron like he was looking for a flaw.

Tanner watched the whole exchange from a few feet away, his arms crossed, expression unreadable but not exactly friendly. The tension in the room ramped up by degrees. Even the toddlers stopped screaming, sensing the shift in the air.

Mark finally took his Americano, but not before leaning in just a little too close. “Let me know if you ever want to talk,” he said, voice low now. “I can help you figure things out. Like I used to.”

Kristy’s hands curled into fists, hidden under the bar.

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