Page 45 of Coffee Shop Girl
“How long have you been out?”
“Ten years.”
“Medically discharged?”
He nodded.
I reached into my back pocket, pulling out a torn, tattered, slightly rounded picture of me and Dad that I carried with me everywhere. Having it eased the ache that made it hard to get out of bed. I lived in Dad’s world, but I still carried him with me.
The picture showed the two of us in front of the Frolicking Moose, just after he’d bought it. I’d just graduated high school—was still wearing my cap and gown, in fact. I was kissing his cheek while he gave the camera a thumbs-up. He wore his favorite board shorts, and his prosthetic leg was apparent.
The moment Maverick’s eyes registered it, his expression changed. I grinned with one side of my lips when his eyes met mine. Something in them had shifted. A darkening, like uncertainty.
“IED?” he asked.
“When I was twelve.”
The memories were bitter and terrifying. I’d been staying with Mama on my weeklong spring break instead of with Pappa, who came to live with me whenever Dad deployed. When the news arrived, Mama had been pale. Shaking. Something in her eyes had been terrified.
I didn’t sleep for days.
“He called as soon as he could after it happened,” I said, my voice suddenly thick, “but it was days after that I found out. Pappa knew but didn’t tell me. I felt like I aged ten years waiting to hear if he’d die. He had infections and complications, and was in Germany for ... forever.”
The words tumbled off my lips with a sigh. I could still feel Pappa’s leathery arm wrap around my shoulder when he finally came to pick me up from Mama’s. He’d pulled me into his lean body that smelled like tobacco and hay, and I felt instant comfort and relief. Jim lingered in the house, hidden in the shadows. Mama had hugged Pappa with tears in her eyes that I’d never understood.
He’ll be fine, kid,Pappa had said, holding me tight.He loves you too much to die, you know. And even if he did die, you’ll always have me.
I blinked out of the memory with a deep breath. But, of course, Pappa died. Mama died. Time had been peeling away all the people I cared about.
Maverick watched me intently.
“Eventually, Dad made it back,” I continued, “and we found a new normal. He got out. Started trying different careers but could never settle. Pappa lived with us while Dad flew around, going to various appointments. Within a year and a half, he was back to his usual dorky self, just with one leg instead of two. Sometimes he’d pretend to hit me with it. Was worried I’d be embarrassed to be seen with him.”
Mav half-smiled, still looking at the photo. “Thanks,” he said, meeting my gaze. “Thanks for sharing that with me.”
But he meant so much more—I could read it in his eyes. Like whatever professional ice lay between us had cracked. Nothing drastic.
But a definite crack.
“I’ll text Steven tomorrow.” I cleared my throat and glanced at his computer to avoid his intense expression. “But there’s so much here I don’t understand. Will you go with me? I’ll ... I’ll feel better if I’m not trying to tackle this meeting on my own.”
He smiled. This time, it reached his eyes.
“I will. Have a seat. You may not understand now, but you will. We’re going to walk through all of this together.”
16
Maverick
“Act confident in the process,” I told Bethany as we strode into the bank together the next afternoon. “It will go a long way.”
Five hours of work lay behind us. While Bethany and Lizbeth wrote down a few more processes for the operations manual—ordering coffee through an online portal for starters—and Ellie read a Boy Scout guidebook, I’d poured over a spreadsheet template that detailed every aspect of the process I’d set up. Then I’d sent a copy to my VA, who would make a system out of it for the next company I helped.
Bethany wasn’t the only one creating a plan. If this company could work and allow me the freedom to move, I had my own manual to make. Moving every three to four weeks wouldn’t be easy, but it would be easier than roots. Relationships, while cuddly, were a breeding ground of issues and expectations.
And expectations really sucked thef-u-nout of life.
Already, holes in my business approach were apparent. I’d scoured too much financial data yesterday and needed to make a skeleton structure for future clients. It had wasted my time and overwhelmed her. Bethany had been right; I’d given too much information.
