Page 20 of Tides of Discovery
Dinner finally over. Feel like I need to scrub my brain clean. Meet me at Barnacle Brews in 20? I desperately need a drink that isn’t served with a side of judgment.
Jack’s reply was immediate:
On my way. First round’s on me.
Relief washed through me, clean and clarifying. In twenty minutes, I’d be sitting beside someone who saw me clearly, who valued me for exactly who I was. No expectations, no disappointments, no attempts to reshape me into someone more acceptable.
Just Jack. My best friend. The one constant in my life since college.
I walked to Dad’s car to say a final goodbye to Lily. I accepted her enthusiastic hug and promised to make her special hot chocolate the next time she visited the coffee shop. As everyone drove away, the weight of the evening settled on my shoulders, heavy and smothering.
But I had my best friend waiting for me. The thought of sitting beside Jack, letting the evening’s tension dissolve in excellent beer and better company, was exactly what I needed.
I turned on my heel and headed toward Barnacle Brews, the knot in my stomach already beginning to unwind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jack
Barnacle Brews was packed for a Friday night. The crowd jostled around the bar as I nursed my IPA. I’d arrived early to grab our seats and sent Cooper a quick text to let him know I’d claimed two stools at the bar. A stranger sat on the other side of the barstool I was saving for Cooper—a tall, broad-shouldered guy in what looked like an expensive leather jacket—downing his beer like he was celebrating something. My gaze slid over him briefly before I turned back to my drink.
Open mic night was in full swing, the small stage lit up as a woman with a guitar played a folk cover to appreciative applause.
I checked my phone and reread Cooper’s last text.
Dinner finally over. Feel like I need to scrub my brain clean. Meet me at Barnacle Brews in 20? I desperately need a drink that isn’t served with a side of judgment.
The protectiveness I’d felt when I received the message hadn’t subsided. I’d caught glimpses of Cooper’s parents duringtheir infrequent visits to The Coffee Cove—their stiff postures and tight smiles—but never actually met them. Still, I knew exactly how they made Cooper feel, and it made something twist painfully in my chest.
I kept my eye on the door and waited. When Cooper finally walked in, his eyes scanned the bar until they found mine. The relief that washed over his features sent waves of warmth cascading through my veins. I raised a hand in greeting.
Cooper weaved through the crowd and nodded to locals who called out to him. Everyone in Seacliff Cove knew the owner of The Coffee Cove—he’d taken a struggling business and transformed it into the heart of historic downtown.
“Went that well, huh?” I asked. Cooper dropped onto the stool beside me. He immediately reached for the lager in front of him, which I’d ordered the moment I sat down.
He took a long pull from the glass, set it down with a sigh, and ran a hand through his hair. “Remember when we were sophomores, and I accidentally used too much salt in that batch of cookies?”
“The ones that made your roommate spit across the room?” I grinned, remembering the disaster of a study session.
“That was a more pleasant experience than dinner tonight.” Cooper took another sip of his beer, and his shoulders relaxed slightly as the alcohol began to take effect.
“Want to talk about it?” I kept my voice casual, though seeing him this drained made me want to find his parents and give them a piece of my mind.
Cooper stared at the chalkboard menu for a moment. “Same old script. Just with new dialogue. They’ll never accept that I’m gay.”
The stranger’s head snapped around. His attention lingered on Cooper as he flagged down the bartender. He had the too-confident air of someone used to getting what he wanted. Iglared at the eavesdropper, who only smirked at me. The guy made my skin crawl.
I turned back to Cooper and dismissed the man. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, the sincerity thick in my voice. “They’re idiots.”
“Ryan was the saving grace.” His expression softened. “And Lily, of course. She asked what was wrong with dating boys instead of girls.”
I laughed, grateful for the brief lightness in Cooper’s eyes. “Smart kid.”
“She really is. And she told them I make the best hot chocolate.”
“See? Five-year-olds get it.” I tipped my glass toward him. “To Lily, a true connoisseur.”
Cooper clinked his glass against mine. “To Lily.” His lips twitched at the corners.
