Page 2 of Believe in Me
Six months later…
Trish stood behind the counter and took a deep breath. She could do this. She was strong — everyone kept telling her how strong she was…how they didn’t know how she was doing it… that they knew they couldn’t do it. What fucking bullshit. She wasn’t doing anything except existing. Going through the motions.
Get up, go to the café, go home, try to sleep, repeat.
Sleep? Ah, the old friend that had deserted her. Trish was lucky if she was able to sleep more than three hours at a time. Any longer than that and Joe was crawling into her dreams; pulling her into his arms; whispering that he would love her for his whole life. Having him in her dreams only reinforced what she’d never have in her waking hours again. Joe. The love of her life. The one who promised her forever. That they were going to grow old together. The man that had promised her until death do us part. He’d just forgotten to tell her that the parting would be sooner rather than later.
The song on the radio changed and snapped Trish out of her thoughts. What the hell had Jess put on this morning? Normally, Trish couldn’t hear the music but with the cappuccino machine currently silent, the music penetrated her thoughts. She moved to the audio setup and changed it to the On Broadway channel. Jess could bitch when she got back, she’d left the shop to Trish to right now while she ran to the bank to deposit the weekend profits.
She could do this. Take order, make order, repeat. Seems that was her life. She didn’t need emotions to make a double espresso with a hazelnut foam topper. Please, just order coffee straight. Maybe some cream but give her a break with the frou-frou flavors. Okay, she did enjoy peppermint mocha lattes around the holidays, but every day? Yeah, no.
Guess she should restock before the lunch rush hit. She’d only been helping Jess for the past month but if she’d learned anything… besides the machine from hell… was that the soldi—no, the customers needed their caffeine to get through the afternoon here in San Antonio. The customers needed to be just that, or she might not be able to function. Moving toward the “flavor bar” Trish refocused on what needed refilling, and not what could pull her down in point-two-seconds in her brain and heart.
She could do this.
§ § §
Mike shook his head, trying to clear the drowsiness away. The drive from Bragg was a fucking long one, even with stopping outside of Biloxi for the night. Of course that could be because he’d driven twenty hours round trip not even four months ago to be at Spook and Jeannine’s wedding. But there was no way he was going to miss Spook’s wedding. Jeannine had looked beautiful.
The guys had asked where Denise was. He’d told them she couldn’t get off work so soon before moving. Complete and utter lie. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since he’d been back. Where she’d gone, he had no clue. He’d opened an account with Equifax, activated a fraud alert and had been monitoring his credit for the last few months. There was no way he was going to let her trash his credit.
The entire week they’d been in Florida, he dodged questions as to when their wedding was going to happen. Not fucking ever. At some point he would need to come clean with the guys. He hadn’t wanted to disrupt anything. The heptad would be ready to go after Denise; Mike didn’t even want to think what Debbie and Jeannine would do. They were loyal to their soldiers and expected others that committed to a soldier to be loyal too.
The photographer had repeatedly asked the heptad for pictures. Master sergeants and sergeants first class alternating in the pictures. Christ, they were just a group of soldiers – he hoped the photographer hadn’t caught him rolling his eyes. Okay, yeah, they were impressive in uniform together but shit, Spook’s teammates had just as many achievements on their chests.
The Delta guys that had been there were downright scary. Mike was a bit nervous when Mooney had introduced them. Guess Mooney had had the pleasure of taking two of them into custody for a fight at Bragg a few years ago. Better Mooney than him. Give Mike a bad batch of fuel to deal with instead of rowdy soldiers. He dealt with that enough with his platoon, never mind having to be a cop in uniform. If he’d wanted to be a cop, he wouldn’t have joined the military.
He focused back on where he was. Ah, almost to post, but there was no way he was going to make it much farther without some caffeine. Seeing a strip mall along the right side of North Walters, he pulled in. There on the corner across from the bank was a coffee shop. At least he thought it was one since it was called The Bean Ground. He’d much rather get food and coffee from a local shop as opposed to a chain.
After parking the truck, he got out and checked his car. Towing the Mazda was a bit of a hassle but since he was a single, it hadn’t been a stateside moving option to have it shipped. Grabbing a U-Haul and towing the car had made more sense, and he’d collect the pay for moving himself. Once he’d checked in with the unit, he’d go find the extended stay hotel, and crash.
He still needed to find a place to rent.Hmmm, maybe a small house would be good this time. Denise hadn’t cleared out the bedroom or office furniture when she’d left and there was some savings that she hadn’t gotten her hands on. Thank fuck she hadn’t known about the savings; she’d only left a few hundred in the checking account. He was sure she would’ve cleaned it out if she’d known. She must have pawned the wedding set they’d chosen, too. He’d left Denise with a Power of Attorney so she could take care of the condo and anything else that popped up while he was deployed. Lesson learned; wait until you’re married a few years, before granting one, and be very specific in what you list.
Mike pushed open the door to the little café and smiled at the smell of warm bread and coffee. He thought he smelled cookies too. Oh this could be his new favorite place. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and had him turning. There was a table along the wall with a cabinet below and a woman bent over at the waist, reaching into it.
“Nice ass.” It’d been a while since he’d been treated to such a beautiful view.
The woman stood abruptly and spun around. “You didn’t seriously just say that!”
Uh oh, he would’ve sworn he just thought that but apparently his filter was off. “Umm, I’m sorry, ma’am. Please accept my apologizes.”
“Does this look like you’re in one of those dingy bars where you can pick up someone with that line? Get your head out of your fourth point of contact,” she said as she moved behind the counter.
Wasn’t often you heard that comment out of a civilian’s mouth. “Spouse?” When he said that word, he watched a shutter come down over the woman’s face and her eyes harden. Definitely not good.
“Do you want to order something?” she asked coldly. She seemed to want to let his faux pas die so he would too. He looked up at the board behind her and he would swear his eyes crossed. Couldn’t he just have a coffee with cream?
“Is it possible to just get a coffee with cream? Nothing fancy, nothing sweet. No extras?” If he needed to beg, he would. His request must have been the right thing to say, since she nodded and reached for a cup.
“What size? To go?” She emphasized the ‘to go’ with a motion of her head toward the door.
“Largest you offer. Is it too early for lunch?” He moved slightly to his left and stood in front of the display case. Lord, if he ate here too often, he would be doing extra PT so he didn’t put on weight. It was never good when the platoon sergeant was on profile. It happened but if the heptad ever got wind of him on profile, he’d be having them all at his place in less than 24 hours. Not something he wanted to happen.
The woman sighed and pulled a pad toward her. “What can I get you besides the coffee? Today’s specials are on the board right there.” She pointed to a small easel set to Mike’s right. Caprese salad… blah, blah. Mike liked salads but right now he needed meat. A glance back at the wall and he knew what he wanted.
“Can I get the London broil sandwich with a bowl of today’s soup and one of those massive brownies in the case. And yes, I’d like to have it to go, please.” Mike reached for his wallet as the woman moved to the register.
“Your food will be ready in a few minutes,” she said as she reached for a cup and lid. “For your coffee. There are several varieties of creamer over on the flavor bar. You’ll probably want the one to the far right.” She took his card and after giving him his receipt, walked over to push through a swinging door.
