Page 18 of The Pumpkin Spice Cafe
‘I majored in business as an undergrad, but I never knew what I wanted to do with the degree. It just seemed like a safe bet, like I would figure it out afterward.’
‘Where’d you go to school?’ Logan asked. He’d keep the questions coming if it kept her from crying about her dead boss.
‘B.U.’
‘Go Terriers.’
She huffed a small laugh. ‘The fiercest mascot around.’
‘Hey, those little things can be ferocious when provoked.’
She laughed again and he let the sound roll over him. God, she had a good laugh. The genuine kind that just kind of bursts out in a little spark of joy. He liked it, wanted to bottle it up and bring it home for when he was regretting this whole damn night and whatever came next that left him a broken mess again.
‘Anyway, I took an assistant job and I guess I was good at it because I ended up at the top of the company by the end. But I’d never meant to do it for seven years.’
Their hands lay between them on the sleeping bags and Logan brushed her pinky with his own, encouragement to go on, but that small touch sent shivers through his body. It was late and the town was quiet around them. The only light was the soft yellow glow of the nightlights behind the counter. They were alone in their own little coffee-scented, candy-fueled bubble. And Logan liked it a little bit too much. Moments like this, nights like this didn’t last. Eventually, reality hit and all you had left were two people with incompatible lives.
‘Then one morning, I walked in with Marvin’s usual latte in hand and there he was. It wasn’t unusual for him to stay in the office all night. No one had checked on him. No one was even worried about him. He died completely alone.’
Jeanie sniffled next to him. Logan grabbed her hand and twined his fingers with hers. Warm and soft and small. Perfect.
‘Thanks.’ She sniffed. ‘The thing is, I realized that could be me. I’d let my job become everything. My boss worked all the time, so I did, too. I didn’t have friends anymore. I saw my family a few times a year. I didn’t even visit Dot and she only lived a short drive away!’
‘Everyone gets busy.’
‘I got the flu two years ago.’
Logan was getting whiplash from the turns in this conversation. ‘The flu is very different from a heart attack.’
‘I know, but I had it really bad. Multiple days of a high fever, throwing up, the whole nine yards.’ She started sniffling again, her voice choked with tears and Logan gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. ‘No one checked on me. There was no onetocheck on me. I threw up on my living room rug and couldn’t clean it up until three days later. I had to throw the whole carpet away!’
She was fully crying now, sad little hiccupping sobs that twisted Logan’s insides up so tight he couldn’t breathe.
‘Hey, hey, don’t cry. Please. It’s going to be alright.’
He unhooked their fingers and wrapped an arm around her instead, pulling her into him. She immediately buried her face in his side, and he could feel the warm, wet tears through his shirt.
‘Shh ... everything’s alright now.’ He rubbed her back in slow circles, every bone in his body wanting to make the crying stop, wanting to make sure she never felt like this again. ‘I promise, the next time you puke you can call me, okay? I’ll clean it up. I deal with all sorts of gross farm emergencies every day. You haven’t seen anything until you’ve had an alpaca spit on you.’
Jeanie’s laugh was muffled in his shirt.
‘This shirt is really nice,’ she said. ‘I told you being flannel-y is a good thing.’
He chuckled, pulling her closer, ignoring every warning bell ringing in alarm at how comfortable this felt. How right. She’d basically just confessed that the only reason she was here was because she was suffering from the shock and trauma of finding her dead boss. Once she was feeling better, what would keep her here then? It was only a matter of time before she realized this small-town life wasn’t for her. Just like Lucy.
‘Sorry about that,’ she said, emerging from his shirt. ‘I think I’m crashing from that sugar high.’
‘Yeah, could be.’
Jeanie’s hair hung into her tear-stained face. Logan tucked it behind her ear, letting his knuckles brush along her cheek. She closed her eyes, her wet lashes sticking together in black spikes. Her nose was pink from crying and her body was so warm next to his; she fit right into his side like a puzzle piece. And despite every reason not to, it seemed natural, obvious even that he would lean forward and kiss her, like they’d done it a million times before.
But before he could cross a line he couldn’t uncross, Jeanie’s eyes flew open.
‘Did you hear that?’ she asked, whispering so she wouldn’t scare the alleged ghost away. Logan tried to hear over the racing beat of his heart, still not recovered from what he almost did, what he still wanted to do.
‘I don’t—’
And then he heard it. A distinct scratching sound. Followed by a shrill cry coming from the back alley.
