Page 65 of Almost Ours
“Yeah,” I say. “Just wanted to grab them something first.”
Benny nods, busying himself behind the counter. He pulls two cups from the stack, filling them with coffee the way Harper takes hers, before grabbing a cookie from the display case. He slides everything into a small bag and sets it on the counter.
“On the house,” he says, waving a dismissive hand before I can argue. “And tell Harper she can come back to work whenever she’s ready. No rush. I’ll hold down the fort.”
I pick up the bag, nodding once. “I’ll tell her.”
Benny’s lips pressed into a thin line, like he was chewing on something. Then he snapped his fingers. “Actually… hang on.”
He ducked down behind the counter, rifling through a drawer until he pulled out a plain white envelope. I watched as he opened the register, slipped out a handful of bills, and tucked them inside. With a flourish, he scrawled something across the front, his handwriting quick yet unmistakable.
When he handed it to me, his eyes were softer than his voice. “Give her this, will you?”
I looked down. On the front, in Benny’s messy scrawl, it read:
Take it. No buts. The bakery will be here when you’re ready.
B.
The lump in my throat was sudden, unexpected.
I cleared my throat, sliding the envelope carefully into the bag with the coffee. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”
Benny gave me a sharp nod, leaning on the counter. “Good. And don’t let her argue. She’ll try, but I’m meaner than I look.”
I huffed out a quiet laugh, though the weight of what I carried suddenly felt heavier.
Benny was watching me carefully. “You’re a hero, you know.”
I shake my head. “I’m not.”
“You are,” he insists. “And she knows it too.”
I don’t answer. Just grab the coffees, give him one last nod, and head for the door.
I climb into my truck, tossing the bag with the coffee and cookie onto the passenger seat before gripping the steering wheel. My fingers tighten around the leather, my jaw clenches as Benny’s words replay in my head.
You’re a hero.
I shake my head.No. No, I’m not.
The worst part is, people actually believe it. The kids on the hockey team. The parents. The entire town. Even Harper–especiallyHarper. I saw it in her eyes at the hospital, in the way she looked at me like I was someonegood. Like I was someone worth something.
My phone buzzes on the console beside me, dragging me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen.
Kyle.
Perfect fucking timing.
Everyone in this town thinks I’m a hero. Kyle, though? He knows the truth. In Connor’s story, I’m the guy who saved him. In Kyle’s, I’m the guy whoruinedhis life.
My stomach twists as I stare at the notification, but I don’t open it. Can’t bring myself to. Instead, I flip the phone face down onto the seat, and let out a slow breath.
It doesn’t matter how many people call me a hero–how many kids look up to me, how many times Harper leans on me, trusts me.
BecauseIknow the truth.
And if Harper knew? If she found out what I’ve done?
