Page 11 of Steeped In Problems

“How are the kids?” Kristy asked as she loaded the grinder. “Still playing hockey, or did they finally get into something with less dental risk?”

Aiden grinned. “Hockey’s in our blood, Kristy. Besides, the dental plan is better than the one you had at County General.”

Lindsay took off her scarf and shook out her blonde hair. “He’s lying. Our oldest quit after last season and took up guitar. You should see Aiden’s face at recitals. Pure agony.”

“I can imagine,” Kristy said, and the two women shared a laugh.

Rhonda poked her head out from the kitchen, eyes going wide at the sight of Aiden. “Didn’t know royalty was here,” she hollered, then disappeared with a tray of cinnamon rolls.

Tanner edged out from behind the pastry case, keeping his movements smooth and steady. He felt every nerve in his body switch from maintenance mode to high alert. He’d dodged bullets with less adrenaline than this, but he wasn’t about to show it. He made a show of checking the register, then sidled up next to Kristy at the bar.

“Cap,” he said, nodding at Aiden.

Aiden nodded back. “Blaze. Place looks great.”

Tanner shrugged. “All Rhonda and Kristy. I just fix what breaks.”

“That’s gotta be a full-time job with Rhonda around,” Aiden said, causing Tanner to let out a small chuckle, and for a split second, the old camaraderie flickered between them.

“I heard that,” Rhonda called out from the back. “And I resemble it.”

Kristy poured steamed milk into two cups without measuring the amount. “Americano for the Cap, vanilla oat for Lindsay, right?”

“You’ve got a memory like a steel trap,” Lindsay said, accepting the mug with both hands. “Thank you, Kristy. And I mean it, your sunny disposition was just what this place needed.”

“Is that you, Blaze?” Lindsay asked, pointing to a photo on the hero wall near the top—Tanner, in full SAR gear, snow up to his knees, hauling some frostbitten idiot out of a crevasse.

Tanner rolled his eyes. “Aiden’s idea. Can’t take it down, or Rhonda threatens to quit.”

“People like to see the legends,” Aiden said, and Kristy barked a little laugh.

“I thought you hated being called that,” she said.

“Only when Aiden says it,” Tanner shot back. Then, softer, “Besides, there’s better stories up there than mine.”

Lindsay let her gaze linger on the photos. “You know, I see a lot of those faces that don’t make the paper. The ones who deserve recognition for their sacrifice. It’s nice what you’re doing here.”

Kristy put two scones on a plate and pushed them forward. “On the house, for the town’s first family,” she said, and Tanner fought not to wince at the blatant generosity. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

The O’Connells took their seat by the window. Aiden set his mug down with military precision, then glanced back at the counter as if making sure Tanner was still watching.

Kristy leaned in, voice low. “He’s been in a mood since Tuesday. Something about the new chief, or maybe it’s just the weather.”

“Probably both,” Tanner said. “And he never liked being off shift.”

Kristy nodded, then busied herself with wiping the already-clean espresso bar.

The shop hummed along, but the center of gravity had shifted. Tanner could feel it in the way the regulars kept sneaking glances at Aiden, and the way Kristy moved a little quicker, like she was working at the hospital again.

Tanner looked at the hero wall, at the old photo of himself, jaw bruised, hair wild, but eyes locked and alive. He wondered if anyone saw that guy when they looked at him now.

Across the shop, Aiden was already mid-conversation with Lindsay, hands moving as he told a story. It was probably about a rescue, or a time he’d single-handedly saved a kid from a flood, or the day they’d all nearly frozen to death on a training exercise gone wrong.

Tanner looked away, but not before he caught Kristy’s reflection in the window. She was watching Aiden, but also watching him, trying to gauge his reaction, like she was still a nurse and he was her toughest patient.

He went back to the pastry case, lined up the muffins so they all faced forward, and took a long, slow breath. At least here, he could put things in order.

Tanner waited a full five minutes before making his move. He could have stayed behind the bar and pretended to be busy with bean inventory or the minor leak under Daisy’s drip tray, but that would have been weak, and Tanner Blaze didn’t do weak. He wiped his hands on a towel, smoothed the front of his Brave Badge polo, and crossed the room with the gait of someone who’d been stitched back together and didn’t want to test the seams.

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