Page 20 of Second Chance with Seth
Main Street is as busy as I’d expected it to be on a warm spring Saturday, which probably isn’t helping with my nerves. Still, I’ve come too far to back out now, and as I pass the offices of the Hart’s Creek Courier and come up to the coffee shop, I allow myself a surreptitious glance through the window.
There’s no sign of Everly, although I’m surprised to see that there’s a guy standing behind the counter. He’s new… not just because I’ve never seen him before, but because the employees here were always women. It was a ‘thing’ of Aunt Clare’s to employ women and to make it a safe place for them to work. As well as the part-time help out front, Sandra and Lyla worked in the kitchen. They had assistants who came and went, but they were the mainstays. I got along well with both of them, and although I never knew Sandra’s story, I knew Lyla’s. She told me once that she’d left her husband after a violent fight. It wasn’tthe first, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. She had nowhere to go, but Aunt Clare helped her out, gave her a job, and set her back on her feet again. That was over ten years before I came on the scene, and as far as I know, she’s still here. It seems odd that Everly would have broken with her aunt’s tradition… unless…
My blood runs cold as I take a second look at the man. He’s around the same age as Everly, which makes him about five years younger than me, and has dark hair, and even darker eyes, with an athletic build, and a sickeningly handsome face.
I find it harder and harder to put one foot in front of the other as I picture the two of them together, my stomach churning. In all the months we’ve been apart, and all the scenarios I’ve created in my head, I’ve never once imagined her with someone else. I don’t know why… but I haven’t. And that leaves me with a quandary. Should I go back the way I came, collect my things from the hotel and drive back to Concord? It’s a tempting idea… except I know I’ll always wonder.
I’m still struggling to breathe, just as I notice Everly coming in through the swing door at the back of the coffee shop. Her arrival does nothing to help with my inability to draw breath, or with putting one foot in front of the other, although I do my best, taking it slow. She looks as beautiful as ever, her long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, just like it used to be, and her slim figure hidden behind a black apron. It seems nothing changes… including my love for her. It’s still just as strong as ever.
She’s carrying a pile of plates and several cups, and at that moment, she looks up and a cup slides from her hand, falling to the floor. I can’t see from here whether it breaks on landing… my attention is diverted by the way the guy behind the counter rushes to her aid, fussing around her and taking the plates… ever the gentleman, it seems.
Asshole.
What makes it worse is that Everly grabs his arm, like she needs his help. How can she, when I’m here? It feels so alien… except it doesn’t, because I’m reminded of that sense of redundancy I used to have, when Everly was so wrapped up in the coffee shop, she forgot about everything else. I wonder if anything’s changed as I watch them lean closer together, whispering to each other, by the looks of things.
I’m at the door now, and part of me wants to stride in there and tell him to leave her alone… remind her she’s mine. Except she’s not, is she? Not anymore.
The guy glances over in my direction, then turns and speaks to Everly again, taking the cups from her now. I’m done with this, and I step inside, closing the door behind me. As I turn, Everly’s eyes meet mine, and she seems to trip slightly, righting herself before I walk over to the counter.
We’re feet apart, but she still makes my skin tingle, and my breath catch in my throat. She still makes me want her, like no-one else ever has, or ever could, and I know I’ll never stop loving her, even if the void between us is so much bigger than just these few feet. Judging by the look on her face, I think it might be too wide to bridge… but I guess there’s only one way to find out.
“Hello,” I say, because one of us has to break the silence, and it should probably be me.
“Hello.”
Her voice does crazy things to me, bringing back memories and giving me hope, even though I have no right to any such thing.
“How are you?” I ask. It feels like a logical question, even if it is too formal for us.
“I’m fine,” she says. “How are you?”
God, I hate this.
“I’m okay, I guess.” I could never lie to her, and I can hardly say I’m doing great when I’m not.
“Can I get you anything?” she asks, like I’m a customer, which is kinda disappointing. I do my best not to let it show, though, and nod my head.
“Sure. I’ll take a flat white, if that’s okay?”
She turns away without a word, taking a few minutes to prepare my coffee, and I use that time to admire the way her jeans fit so snugly to her ass, recalling what it felt like to let my hands wander, and how she used to moan when I did.
The guy who helped her earlier is putting away the cups still, and taking his time over it, if you ask me, glancing across at Everly every so often. I can’t read his expression from here, but I wish he’d find something else to do… somewhere else to be.
“There you go,” Everly says, putting a cup of steaming coffee in front of me.
I take my chance, grabbing her hand before she can pull it back, noting her gasp and the way her body tenses against me.
“Can we talk?” I ask. She stares at me, then lowers her gaze to our hands, although she doesn’t actually pull away. “Please?” I whisper, and she looks up at me again.
“Okay. I’ll just get myself a coffee.” She pulls her hand free and I smile, and although she doesn’t smile back and simply gets on with making another coffee, I take heart from the fact that at least she’s fixing herself a drink. It suggests she intends to talk for a while… or to listen. Either will do.
She turns back around, putting her cup next to mine.
“Shall we find somewhere quieter?” I suggest, desperate to escape her friend… if that’s what he is.
“Table twelve is free.” She nods toward the back of the coffee shop, and I pick up both cups. “I won’t be long, Owen,” she calls over her shoulder as she comes around this side of the counter.
So… the guy has a name…
