Page 4 of When He Saved Me
“Not today,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my chest. “Maybe later in the week. I’m not strong enough today.”
“You’re the strongest person I know,” I said.
She was quiet for a long time, and I thought maybe she’d fallen asleep, but then I heard her say in a small voice, “I love you, Finn.”
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you too.”
CHAPTER2
JAMIE
I walkedinto The Daily Grind, hoping there wouldn’t be a line. I would probably be late to my Adolescent Psych class, but coffee was an absolute necessity this morning and was worth risking a little tardiness for.
By some miracle, there were only two customers ahead of me at the counter, and I pulled out my phone, checking my email once more. Seeing nothing new, I put my phone back in my pocket with a sigh, reminding myself that it had only been twenty-four hours since I’d submitted my application.
A raised voice caught my attention at the counter to the left, where customers’ drinks were distributed.
“How hard is it to get a fucking coffee order right?” a gentleman sneered at the barista in front of him.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll remake that for you,” the barista responded, taking the drink from the man and turning to make a fresh one. I watched him as he strode over to one of the machines, admiring the way his Henley stretched across his shoulders, his movements efficient as he remade the drink. The customer stood with his arms crossed, body tense, radiating asshole energy. I hoped he scalded his tongue.
The customer ahead of me stepped to the side to await her order, and I stepped forward to place my order for a dark roast coffee with an added shot of espresso. I moved to the side to wait for my drink, once again pulling out my phone, this time to scroll through my socials.
“Jamie!” someone called from the coffee counter.
I pocketed my phone and stepped up to grab my drink, getting an unobstructed view of the barista who’d dealt with the asshole customer. His dark hair was shorter on the sides and a little shaggy on top, his jaw angular, lips full, and his piercing blue eyes held mine as he pushed my drink forward.
I noted the name on his name tag. “Thank you, Finn,” I said, my lips curving in a smile.
“You’re welcome,” he said, our eyes holding for a moment before he turned back to make the next drink.
“Excuse me,” a woman said as she stepped past me to get her drink. I realized I was standing in the way, my feet rooted to the spot. Shaking my head at my reaction to the dark-haired barista, I turned and left the shop.
* * *
As if pulledby some magnetic force, I returned to the coffee shop after my one o’clock class. I didn’t even know if he—Finn—would still be there, but I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head all morning. Those piercing blue eyes had intrigued me, and I’d found myself wanting to see him again, even if just to catch a glimpse.
That was some stalker shit right there.
Yet, I didn’t pause to consider the impulse that led me back here. I simply rolled with it.
I entered The Daily Grind for the second time that day, immediately noticing there was a different energy at this time of day. Rather than a line of frazzled commuters, the tables were littered with textbooks and laptops as students took advantage of the free Wi-Fi while consuming their caffeine.
I made my way to the counter, my eyes surveying the employees bustling about, dismissing each one in turn until I’d eliminated all of them. Finn wasn’t there.
I already knew I’d be back again tomorrow, looking for a glimpse of the mysterious barista, but in the meantime, I ordered a coffee, deciding I might as well find a table and get some work done while I was there.
Grabbing my coffee, I made my way to a two-person table tucked away in the back. It wasn’t until I’d sat and pulled out my laptop that I realized my mysterious barista was sitting at the table adjacent to mine.
He was just a bit ahead of me and off to the left, giving me the perfect angle to observe him unnoticed. His head was bent as he furiously wrote in a notebook. I couldn’t make out the words from this angle, but I could see that despite his frantic pace, his words were neatly scrawled across the page.
What was he writing? Was it a journal? Poetry? The next Great American Novel? I desperately wanted to know.
I sipped my coffee as I watched, eagerly noting every detail. The curve of his ear. The mole on the back of his neck, just a little to the left of his spine. The stud he wore in his ear. The ring he fiddled with on the index finger of his left hand. The exact angle he tilted his head as he wrote. I consumed it all, filing it away for safekeeping.
As if sensing he was being watched, he turned, and before I could look away, I was held captive by those piercing blue eyes. He raised an eyebrow in question, and I felt my cheeks heat at being caught staring. But I didn’t back down. That wasn’t my style. Usually, when I wanted something, I went after it.
I wantedhim.
