Jack leans back, hands on his stomach. “Your food feeds my soul.”
“Good. Here’s some coffee to make sure you boys are awake. I’ll bring your usual.”
The place is empty other than Fred and Bill, who are here every morning at four like clockwork. They both lost their wives to cancer around the same time six years ago and started meeting here for breakfast once a week—before it turned into daily.
Fred turns, lifting his coffee cup to me. “Good job today, Grayson.”
I return the gesture. “Thanks.”
“You too, Jack. I heard you were the first one in.”
Jack is always the first one in. It’s something I have tried to prevent, but he’s stubborn and refuses to let someone else risk themselves when he’s there.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good man,” Bill says with a nod. “Your father would be proud.”
“If you find him, let me know,” he says under his breath.
Jack and I both have fathers who we’d rather not discuss, but the town doesn’t care much about privacy and our wants and needs. After the death of his mother, his father became a drunk who took off, leaving Jack to basically raise himself. That meant he spent a lot of time with me, which is why he’s like a brother.
“What was that?” Bill asks.
“I said, I’m glad you let me know that.”
I laugh into my coffee cup. They turn back to their food and conversation, forgetting all about us.
“This town is hell-bent on making my father into some kind of hero,” Jack grumbles.
“He was a hero. He was the mayor for fifteen years, and they all love him.”
“And they just couldn’t care less about the destruction he left when he walked away with his bottle of whiskey?”
I shrug, not sure what to say. “They really only care about that shit when it impacts them.”
Jack looks to the door, shaking his head. “Let’s talk about happier shit.”
I swear, if he brings up Jessica, I’m going to kill him. “Like?”
“What’s new at the inn?”
“We got the cottage fixed up since the water pipe burst.”
“Yeah? Good. Anything else?”
He’s fishing. Somehow he knows that Jess is going to start working for me tomorrow, and I’m sure he has all kinds of opinions about it.
“Nope.”
“You’re sure?”
“Did you suffer from smoke inhalation or something?” I question.
His brow raises. “No? Why?”
“Because you’re being an idiot.”
“If you say so.”