Page 18 of Love Thy Neighbor

I peek over at her, surprised.

Unlike me, Caroline isn’t a caffeine-aholic. One small cup can get her through an entire day while I down at least a pot, sometimes two depending on the extent of the latest project.

“You want the big cup?”

She nods. “I need it today.”

Another blush steals up her cheeks.

“Thank fuck.” I blow out a relieved breath, so fucking glad I wasn’t the only one up all night.

“You too?” she asks, her voice full of hope as she comes to life for the first time this morning.

Nodding, I reach into the cabinet, pulling down the bigger cup she requested, and begin filling it with coffee.

“I didn’t fall asleep until like two AM.”

“Me either!” she says, nearly coming off her stool in surprise and probably relief. She clears her throat, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, settling back down into her seat. “My brain wouldn’t settle down. It was all I could think about.”

Pausing mid-pour, I raise a brow at her. “It was?”

Her eyes widen as her words reach her own ears, and then she rolls them. “Not likethat. I meant all I could think wasCrap, did we screw this up?Repeatedly. Stuck in my brain like a time loop.” She rubs her temples, then drags her palms down her face. “Did we screw this up, Coop?”

I can barely make her words out since she’s hiding behind her hands.

I finish pouring our coffees and replace the pot. I grab both mugs, keeping one for myself and sliding the other across the counter to her.

She doesn’t reach for it.

With a sigh, I move our cups to the side and lean across the bar until I’m just inches away.

“Care, look at me.”

“No.”

“Caroline Beatrice Reed, look at me.”

She laughs lightly. “You know that’s not my middle name. I don’t know why you change it every time you use my full name.”

“Because Agnes doesn’t fit you and we both know it.”

“And Beatrice does?”

“No, but it makes it more fun.”

“True.”

I reach out and wrap my fingers around her tiny wrists, pulling her hands away without a fight. I grin when I see her eyes are screwed tightly shut.

“You better look at me or I’ll tell your dad you snuck out of the house to make out with Bobby John in the tenth grade.”

She groans, peeling her eyes open. “Bobby John—what an awful name.”

“You kissed him knowing his name.”

“Don’t remind me.” She curls her lip, then tucks it between her teeth, looking at me with those baby blue eyes that always get me to do anything she wants.

This time they aren’t filled with a plea to watch some obnoxious teen drama, but instead, they’re begging me to reassure her our friendship is intact.

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