Page 47 of Steeped In Problems

Tanner followed him outside. The air was sharp and cold, slicing through the sweat on his skin. They walked to the far end of the gravel lot, where Joe leaned against the hood of a battered pickup and stared up at the stars.

Joe said nothing for a long time. When he finally spoke, it was low. “It’s not the end, you know. God has a way of working out situations even when we think there’s no way.”

Tanner shook his head. “I want to believe that, but I can’t ask people to come to another fundraiser. Not after what just happened.”

Joe smiled, sad and soft. “Sometimes you just take what you get, and you try again tomorrow.”

“But I’m running out of time,” Tanner grumbled with a shake of his head.

“Look, I’ll cover the next payroll. Don’t tell Emily, she’ll kill me. You want to keep running this place, you’ve got my blessing. But if you want out—if you want to walk away—I’ll take the blame for it.”

Tanner shook his head again. “That’s a generous offer.”

“Don’t take too long to think about it. Like you said, you’re running out of time.”

They headed back toward the barn. The lights were off now, except for a dim bulb over the entry. Kristy stood in the doorway, arms folded tight across her chest. She looked like she’d been crying, but she’d already wiped her face clean.

Joe tipped his hat to her and walked past, muttering something about “tomorrow’s another day.” Emily joined him, her phone already at her ear, coordinating a “contingency plan.”

Tanner hung back, watching Kristy. She didn’t move, didn’t say anything.

“Joe says we can try again. He’s giving us another shot.”

Kristy stared at the ground, hair falling over her face. “I don’t think I can do this again. Not after tonight. Mark is just going to keep ruining everything.”

He nodded, doing his best to hide his hurt over her letting Mark come between them. “I get it.”

She looked up, eyes red but steady. “Are you going to keep the shop open?”

He thought about it. Thought about every mistake, every lost dollar, every time he’d let the team down. He thought about the first time he’d seen her, laughing behind the counter and the way she’d made even the worst days feel like they mattered. Such a sharp contrast to how she looked now, and all he could think about was how this was all his fault.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to let it go.”

She flinched, just a little.

He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he watched her turn, slow and small, and walk out into the night.

He waited until she was gone before he locked the barn, flicked off the last light, and let the dark swallow everything behind him.

Chapter Thirteen

Kristy spent the next morning on her couch, wearing a hoodie three sizes too big and staring at her phone like it held the answers to world peace. Her apartment looked like a donation bin had gotten in a fight with a grocery store and lost: empty seltzer cans, takeout containers, and a random sock draped over her lamp like it were auditioning for the role of mood lighting. The sun wasn’t even up yet. Kristy wasn’t sure she’d slept.

Her phone was filled with photos of the fundraiser—before it went full disaster. The barn was lit up and alive, strings of LED lights everywhere, the crowd thick and noisy, everyone smiling. There were shots of the auction table, still intact, baskets of gourmet popcorn and those weird local hot sauces, and people actually dancing. She flipped through them, heart squeezing with every swipe until the sequence reached the moment Mark’s whiskey-red face ruined everything. The videos started then, from the high schoolers’ phones—his voice, his ranting, the crash of glass, and the popcorn flying.

Kristy watched it twice, just to punish herself. She wished she could blame him for all of it, but mostly, she just felt like an idiotfor thinking she could ever change the world with a coffee shop, a bake sale, and some borrowed string lights.

A text came in at 7:09 a.m. It was Nurse Gomez, who always woke up with the sun. “If you need anything, let me know. Ignore the jerks. You’re the best.” Kristy choked on a laugh, then set her phone face down on the pillow beside her. She stared at the ceiling. Wondered if this was what rock bottom looked like. Not a dramatic collapse but a slow, heavy sinking.

She almost called Tanner. She pictured him in his apartment, sitting in the dark, maybe drinking a beer at eight in the morning because what else was there to do? But she didn’t call him. He needed time. He needed someone who could fix things, and Kristy was pretty sure she was the opposite of that right now.

What she needed was a plan or at least a lifeline. She scrolled her contacts until she hit “Erica Cruz Turner.” Kristy let her thumb hover, heart racing, then hit call before she could talk herself out of it.

The line picked up on the second ring. “If this is about my children being banned from the after-school program again, I can explain,” Erica started, voice crisp and amused. In the background, Kristy heard twin boys shrieking and, weirdly, a goat.

“It’s not about your kids. It’s about me,” Kristy blurted.

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