“Only if you stop flirting with my other employees.”
“Fine.”
Those sharp blue eyes run over my body in that assessing way of his that makes the tiny little hairs on my arms stand to attention, my pulse hitching as he flashes a triumphant grin before turning away. Plucking my lip between my fingers, I study the vacant space, feeling dazed by our exchange before something occurs to me.
“But Iwasn’tflirting!”
Luke
Caleb: My espresso machine made some very concerning noises and it won’t turn on
Caleb: It’s now living in the great beyond also known as my dumpster
Caleb: Help!
Caleb: Lukkkkeeeeee
“Why does your face look like that? I’m the one in crisis mode here,” Caleb asks, pointing a finger in the general vicinity of my face.
I blink. “Like what?”
He gives me a look like I should knowexactlywhat he means. “Like someone just pissed in your OJ.”
I grimace.
“Or you just left the mall and can’t remember where you parked your car.”
My nose wrinkles. “My car is right out front.”
“Or you’re in the middle of a crowd of people and you have a wedgie and you can’t—Ouch!”
“I get it,” I hiss, my elbow making contact with his side.
Caleb grins, his lips stretching across his face as a flop of hair falls over his eyes. Not for the first time this morning, I can’t help but compare him to his dad. Whereas Alek has thick, black hair, Caleb’s is more of a dark brown. It’s trimmed on the sides but thicker on top with a large lock that is constantly falling out of place. Unlike his dad, Caleb’s choice of clothing tends to be more laid back and casual. Today, he’s wearing a navy-blue hoodie and jeans. And while he has the same icy-blue eyes as his dad, they’re somehow sexier on Alek.
“I’m fine,” I mumble, ignoring Caleb’s scoff. The line in the local coffee shop, Rustic Brew Cafe, slowly shuffles forward. Although I don’t particularly care for coffee, I do like the atmosphere of the cafe.All of the furniture from the counters to the round tables where patrons are currently sitting, and even the chairs, are made of wood. In the far-right corner is a collection of rocking chairs around a stone fireplace, the flames quietly popping. Large bay windows line the walls and allow natural light to seep in. In the distance, I can just barely make out the mountain tops covered in a light dusting of snow.
As usual, I order orange juice and a muffin in lieu of coffee. When it’s Caleb’s turn, I lean against the counter and patiently wait for what is sure to be a five-minute ordeal.
“I would like a large iced quad blonde ristretto updosed toffee nut oat milk latte,” Caleb begins.
I whistle quietly. “And here we go.”
“Add three pumps of vanilla with cinnamon powder stirred in but not on top, and light ice.”
My mouth falls open. “Do you know how expensive that’s going to be?”
Caleb shrugs before turning back to the barista. “Can we make it four pumps of vanilla?”
Several minutes later, Caleb is ignoring the quiet grumblings of patrons behind him as we finally make our way to a nearby table while he carries the monstrosity of a drink he calls coffee. Thankfully, he waits until we’re alone before he begins grilling me again. “So, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in like a month.”
“Umm…” A slightly nauseating, churning sensation sloshes around inside my stomach as I stuff a chunk of blueberry muffin inside my mouth while I think of a plausible excuse for going radio silent on my best friend. The last month with Evelyn has been especially challenging, but now isn’t the place or time to get into it. “Just busy. Job hunting and…helping Maddie with wedding plans,” I lie.
Caleb’s eyebrows shoot up and he whistles, low and quiet. “Helping your ex-girlfriend plan her wedding to your brother? That sounds awkward as fuck.”
I shrug and wish, not for the first time, I could bring myself to tell him the truth. Technically, Evelyn doesn’t want me to tellJaxshe’s alive. She never said anything about anybody else. Logically, I know Caleb would keep this secret. He would be there for me. But it feels…wrong to tell him about Evelyn when I can’t even tell my own brother. Sorta feels like a fitting punishment for that betrayal, having to keep it all bottled inside.
Plus, I don’t want to admit that, no matter what I do, I can’t seem to help her. Not in the way she needs.
