Page 16 of Chasing After You
But even that wasn’t working anymore.
Because I could feel him.
Dorian.
And something in me whispered that I’d wake up one morning and find him standing on the other side of the counter, staring at me with hatred and disgust.
Hayes, Hudson, Oliver, and even Greyson and Lane sometimes, stopped by the cafe often to check on me. At least that’s what Oliver told me, because I highly doubted that the Cohen brothers would ever admit to worrying about me.
Greyson always insisted on paying for his and Lane’s orders, while the triad happily accepted when I said it was on the house.
Most days, unless it was my day off, I opened the shop before sunrise, basking in the quiet before the morning rush. The manager I’d hired two years ago, Kellie, was a godsend. She was great with our two part-timers, Max and Danielle, and made it so that I wasn’t drowning in work. She took over the training of new hires, created the schedules, and handled opening and closing tasks in my absence.
I took pride in the small things—wiping down the counters until they gleamed, organizing the syrup shelf by color-coded labels, adjusting the music volume to match the time of day and crowd energy. The shop ran smoothly because I cared, and I loved that people noticed.
Some of our regulars even told me that they could tell when I wasn’t on shift. They made sure to clarify that my workers were doing a great job, but said that I brought a lot of positive energy to the space.
I felt like wagging my metaphorical tail whenever someone complimented me or the shop.
During the slower hours, I experimented with flavor profiles, layering spices and infusing syrups, trying to create something unique that still felt like comfort in a cup. I kept a small black notebook under the counter, filled with all my best successes and a few disasters I did not want to repeat.
Bubblegum. I shivered just thinking about it.
There was something deeply satisfying about watching one of my workers or a regular take a sip of one of my new creations,pause, and then break into a surprised grin, laugh, or even a confused frown.
I liked remembering people’s names, their orders, and seeing the way their eyes lit up when I handed them their favorite drink on a rough morning. I liked belonging to this place. Being part of someone’s day, even in such a small way, made it easier to carry the weight of my own.
Making a customer smile gave me the same feeling I’d get from a home run.
I’d been on my college’s baseball team for three years. We weren’t that good, to be honest, but just being a part of a team was such a fantastic experience.
That feeling of camaraderie was something I tried hard to recreate inside Wild Roast. I may have swapped out bats and gloves for grinders and milk steamers, but the sense of teamwork remained. We moved in sync during the busiest rushes, and at the end of it, when the line finally disappeared and we all took that first sigh of relief, I’d glance around and feel that same pulse of pride I used to get in the dugout.
I kept a corkboard in the back office where I’d pin little notes customers left behind—thank-yous scribbled on napkins, drawings from kids. It reminded me on the hard days that I was part of something that mattered.
Every steamed latte, every laugh across the counter, every gentle, repeated routine helped anchor me. Helped keep the fear and anxiety and loneliness at bay even during the times my hands trembled behind the counter when I had to tell the rare rude customer to leave.
The voice of my manager pulled me out of my thoughts. “Earth to Josh. You’ve been cleaning that machine for like fifteen minutes, I think it’s good,” Kellie chuckled, walking around me with a tray of fresh muffins.
I laughed at myself and put the rag down. “Sorry, Kels.”
She shook her head in amusement, her tight brown ringlets shaking with the movement. “What’s got you so distracted these days? New girlfriend?”
I’d broken up with the last one, Quinn, almost a whole year earlier. Dating was the furthest thing from my mind. I loved feeling wanted by someone, I just hadn’t even given it a thought recently since I’d been so focused on my little brother.
“Nah, you wish,” I grinned.
“Everything okay then?”
I nodded. “Yeah, it’s all good. I was just thinking about the fireplace idea again.”
Kellie rolled her eyes at me, giving me a pointed look. “Again? Where would we even put it?”
“Right there,” I said, pointing over at the far wall. If we just rearranged the tables, there would be the perfect spot for a cozy fireplace and two comfy chairs. No one ever seemed on board with my ideas, though.
“Hmm,maybe. You’d have to call a fireplace guy, though. Don’t you dare take a sledgehammer to that wall.”
“A fireplace guy?”
