Page 115 of Daily Grind
After that conversation, he didn’t want to hear from the fucker again. Let him burn in hell. Hopefully that damn shop would crumple down around his shitty little head. There’d be no future with Brian. All the hopes and dreams, Rob would set those on fire and burn them into ash.
He tossed the phone on the passenger seat and pressed the ignition button. Clinging hard to the power of his anger, he pulled out and drove up the street, and out of Brian’s life.
Halfway to his house, the stinging in his eyes set in. He blinked it away. By the time he pulled in front of his home, his jaw hurt from clenching it. Brian should have been with him. They should have been walking in together. Making plans for the evening. Kissing, touching, laughing.
Instead, he walked in alone, the house echoing with his harsh breaths. Practically every room had Brian etched into it. Here they’d watched movies. In the kitchen, he’d made pancakes.
Rob set his keys, wallet, and phone down on the counter.
Out on the porch, they’d talked and drank and smiled. He stepped out into the yard and took the short steps required to reach the garden Brian’s father had given to him. Helped him plant.
Oh God. How would he explain that to Brian’s parents? Would they even speak to him again?Hey, your son was a giant arsehole to me and threw me out of that shop that’s going to eventually kill him.
“Fuck.” He whispered the word to the earth.
He hadn’t exactly been a saint during their snitty conversation, but he certainly hadn’t deserved to be treated with such venom and unceremoniously thrown out like that. As stressed and tired as Brian was, there wasn’t any excuse for his behavior.
It was the kind of argument that should have had them both huffy, then apologetic, then talking, but it had swung so wildly out of proportion, so fast… there was no fixing it.
To imply that Rob was unethical? Brian didn’t know what went into Rob’s business, for goodness’ sake. Had never even asked. Didn’t care.
He stared at the blossoms on the tomato plants and winced.
Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned other vendors or looking up information on running coffee shops. Brian got twitchy whenever Rob had made suggestions in the past. At some level, Brian was right—Rob didn’t know the first thing about coffee—but he knewbusinessand it was plain to see that Brian was struggling.
Physically, mentally, and judging from the little bit he’d seen, financially, Grounds N’at was crumbling.
Why couldn’t he let Rob be a sounding board? The only time that had happened had been up at McConnells Mill, when Brian had no other option—and after Rob had helped solve that crisis, Brian had run back to his precious babyanyway.
Oh, he understood putting heart and soul into a business. He’d done that with CirroBot, but there was more to life than work. He’d tried to show Brian that—thought he had.
But no, Brian loved that shop more than anything else, including Rob. In all likelihood, Brian would go down with the sinking ship and all the stress, and end up like Rob’s father—dead too soon.
“Bri,” he said to the plants, “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”
Couldn’t hold on, as Len had asked. Couldn’t be the love Brian needed to keep him from destroying himself.
Finally he let the tears slip, and knelt next to his garden as they fell silently onto the earth.
He was a failure as a friendandas a boyfriend, just as he’d been a failure as a son.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brian madeit through Sunday by sheer force of will, a half-dozen shots of espresso, and by hanging on to every last shred of anger he had. His shop wasnotfalling apart, and he’d prove it.
Except by Monday afternoon, when the bills came in, there was an inkling of truth lurking in the envelopes.
He wasn’t running in the black anymore. He had enough in the rainy day fund to cover it, but between costs going up, the new employees, and less customers, the shop was slipping away.
He closed the laptop and eyed the tables beyond the counter. There were less people here than he’d expect on a sunny June day. Even the newly placed outside tables were empty.
Lamont was working closing with him. Except there wasn’t much to do. Brian pulled out his phone, almost out of habit, expecting to see a text from Rob—but no. Not after telling Rob to go the fuck away. Still, he’d half expected Rob to reach out. Then again, he hadn’t contacted Rob, either.
A deep ache rose in his chest. He’d fucked that up perfectly. No dimples, no red hair, no sweet smile and lovely laugh. Bike rides were out. Hiking. Photography—
Fuck!He’d never had Rob’s signed prints framed. His heart sank. By now, it was somewhere in his shoes. It hadn’t beaten in his cold chest for days.
He shoved his phone back into his pocket. Still should get those prints framed. The shop could ship them to Rob when they were done. He’d promised Rob—
