Page 32 of Steeped In Problems

Kristy didn’t dignify that with an answer. She spun away and marched toward the next car in line, which turned out to be the local sheriff’s SUV.

But the words stuck in her chest, spreading out like a bruise.

She went through the motions, waving at kids, thanking donors, and shaking the cash jar with extra gusto. But it wasn’t the same. She kept feeling the burn of Mark’s gaze, even after he left like his words had stained her shirt worse than the spilled coffee.

She tried to reset. It didn’t help. The next hour was a blur of wet shoes, sticky change, and shrieking toddlers. At one point, she tripped over a hose and splattered a bucket of soapy water across a regular customer, an older woman with purple hair who came in every Sunday for a single plain scone and hot tea. Kristy apologized a hundred times, but she was sure the story would make it into next week’s town gossip.

She ducked inside the shop, hands shaking, and tried to wipe the sweat off her face. She was halfway to the break room when Tanner intercepted her.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and—was that actual concern?

“Fine,” she lied, already tugging at the sleeves of her T-shirt. “Just—” She gestured at the mess outside. “Car wash craziness.”

He didn’t buy it. She could tell from his expression. He didn’t press, though. Instead, saying, “Well, you handled yourself good out there.”

She snorted. “I just dumped a gallon of water on a grandmother.”

“Adds character,” he said, and somehow, that made her feel better.

She wiped her face with a towel and felt her heartbeat start to slow. “Thanks, Tanner.”

He shrugged, and for a second, she saw the smile hiding there. She wasn’t sure what to do with the soft side of her boss that kept coming out around her. Deciding she needed to escape before she completely crumbled in front of him and everyonewatching, she told him, “I should go grab some supplies from the closet inside.”

Kristy tried to walk off her confused feelings, but the Brave Badge’s storage room was only three paces wide and smelled like melted plastic wrap and industrial-strength lemon cleaner. She wore a groove in the floor, back and forth between the mop bucket and the dry goods shelf. Outside, the fundraiser raged on. She could hear the DJ’s bad microphone, the distant whoops of kids fighting over water balloons, and—just once—the sound of Tanner’s voice, calm and steady, ordering someone to “knock it off before you break the glass.”

Inside, it was just the silence and her own heartbeat, pounding like she’d just pulled a double in the trauma bay. She thought about Mark, about his words, about the way he could still find the soft spots and poke them until she bled. But she also thought about Tanner, about the way he just stood there, unruffled, letting her fall apart without rushing to patch her up. For once, she didn’t want to be fixed. She just wanted to be, but she didn’t know how to do that.

Kristy could feel tears prick the corner of her eyes, and she tried to focus on the inventory—six gallons of oat milk, a case of espresso beans, and three unopened boxes of syrup pumps. Nothing required urgent attention.

The door creaked. Kristy whirled around, wiping her cheeks with the back of her wrist just in time.

Tanner stood in the doorway. He didn’t say anything. He just took in the scene—her red eyes, the way she’d braced herself on the edge of the dry goods shelf—and nodded once, like it all made sense.

She forced a laugh. “Didn’t expect the boss to catch me mid-breakdown.”

He closed the door behind him, quietly. “Didn’t expect you to have one.”

She snorted. “There’s a lot about me you probably didn’t expect. Like the fact that I can eat my own weight in lemon loaf when stressed.”

He moved closer, but not so close that she felt crowded. Just enough to block out the window, the noise, the rest of the world.

“You want to talk about it?” His voice was softer than she’d ever heard it.

Kristy fiddled with the edge of her T-shirt. “Not really. But I probably should, so I don’t end up crying into the espresso hopper later.”

He waited, hands tucked into his pockets, patient as a mountain.

She started pacing again, slowly. “Mark’s been showing up everywhere. He does this thing—whenever I try to move on, he suddenly remembers I exist. He says he’s ‘just checking in,’ but it’s more like he’s checking up. Making sure I haven’t found a way to live without him, I guess.”

Tanner’s jaw went tight. She noticed it but pretended not to.

“He thinks I’m having a crisis,” she continued, her voice getting louder. “That I’m going to wake up one day and realize this”—she waved at the storage room, at herself—“was all a huge mistake. He keeps telling me to go back to nursing, that I’m wasting my degree, my time, and my life. Like I’m too broken to know what’s best for me.”

She stopped, looking at Tanner for the first time since he entered. His face was granite. His eyes, though, were different—soft, maybe, or just less grumpy than usual.

She laughed again, but it came out weird and brittle. “I know it’s dumb. I shouldn’t care. But it’s like every time he shows up, he drags all my old mistakes out and makes me wear them.”

He didn’t jump in to fix it. He just stood there, letting her talk.

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