Page 17 of Chasing After You
She shrugged. “You know, there’s like car guys and roof guys and rat guys.”
I laughed, “Maybe you shouldn’t call pest control workersrat guys.”
Kellie smirked, “Hey, they know what they are, just like you’re the coffee guy. The syrup whisperer. The espresso king.”
I groaned and leaned on the counter. “Please never say ‘syrup whisperer’ again.”
“Sorry, your majesty.” She stuck her tongue out at me with a twinkle in her eye.
Despite the banter, I was grateful for her presence. Kellie had this way of diffusing my darker thoughts without even realizing it. She reminded me that life could still feel light, that a joke ortwo could hold up the ceiling on days when the weight felt like it might crush me.
Still, her question lingered.
What was distracting me?
It was the tension that clung to me when the bell above the door chimed. The hesitation before I looked up, always half-expecting to see him—older, colder, staring me down with eyes that remembered everything that I longed to forget.
Just then, the bell actually did chime, signaling a customer’s entry. I jerked my gaze over to the door, wondering if my thoughts had somehow summoned him.
Instead, it was Max, ready to start his shift. I greeted him happily before heading to the break room to grab my keys.
I hated not being able to just go home and snuggle up on my couch to watch a show. I was thankful for the help I was getting from my current housemates, but I was still a bit on edge around the twins. That, and I was constantly worrying that I was overstaying my welcome.
But it was either staying at their house or going to bed worrying about Dorian setting my apartment on fire while I slept, so…
* * *
“Hey, guys! I’m home!” I called out as I entered the large home.
“In the kitchen!” Oliver’s voice echoed. I shucked off my sneakers, leaving them just inside the door.
I padded down the hall towards the kitchen, socked feet quiet against the polished wood. The warm, buttery scent hit me before I even entered the room.
Oliver stood at the counter, his sleeves rolled up and a smudge of flour on his cheek, as he mixed dough in a large glass bowl.
“Hey.” His smile was easy, but his eyes scanned me like he was checking for cracks. “How was your day?”
“Hey,” I replied. “It was good. Although it’s still weird that I can’t just walk down the block to bring you coffee during a break.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugged, a soft, happy look on his face. “Well, you’ll just have to bring me some coffee here now.”
“Are you… I mean, do you miss having your store?” I’d had a suspicion from the start that it hadn’t been Oliver’s decision to sell his antique shop suddenly.
His smile grew. “You don’t have to worry about me, Josh.” I blushed. “I know what it might seem like from an outsider’s point of view… and I’m glad to have a friend like you looking out for me. But, honestly, I don’t miss it. I don’t think I would’ve ever explored my own interests if it hadn’t been forced on me,” he laughed. “I was a bit sad about it at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that getting rid of the shop was for the best.”
I pondered that. “I always just assumed it was your passion, like Wild Roast is for me.”
He nodded. “I tried hard to trick myself into thinking it was my passion. It would’ve been too depressing if I were constantly thinking about how I wanted to try other things, you know? The shop was something I needed for survival at the time, so I wanted to be positive about it.”
“Oh, I guess that makes sense.”
“Now I get to try all kinds of things. Like these cookies,” he hummed, gesturing with his elbow. “I never had time for stufflike this before. Want to help?” He tilted his head and smiled. “Or you can sit and just talk to me while I do it. That works too. I want to get these in the oven soon so that they’re ready for my guys.”
I nodded and walked over, pulling out one of the stools at the island. “I’ll try to help, but I can’t promise I won’t ruin them.”
