Page 90 of One Night Forsaken

Braydon

Leaving the city now. Be there ASAP. Love you.

Damn, I must have scared the hell out of him. Had our roles been reversed, I would be in full panic mode. I have no clue where he lives in the city. The thought of not reaching him in time has my blood pressure spiking.

Alessandra

Got out safely. Thanks for calling A. Love you too.

Just as the message delivers, my phone rings. Braydon’s name flashes on the screen.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Fuck am I happy to hear your voice.”

“Right back atcha.”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

I inhale a lungful of the cool oxygen. “I’m good. More shaken up than anything.” The three guys on the sidewalk flash in my mind. “Some guys broke in and destroyed the café. Set something on fire in the kitchen.”

“Shit.” The rev of his car engine purrs on the other end.

“Please slow down. I’m okay.” I shudder at the idea of how much worse it could have been. What if I hadn’t been downstairs? Half the building would have burned to ash before Anderson or I knew what was happening. “Don’t need you getting in an accident on the way.”

“Could have fucking lost you,” he mumbles.

“But you didn’t.” I pull the tube from my nose. “Drive carefully. No doubt we’ll still be right where we are when you arrive.”

“I love you, firecracker.” His words warm my bones and kick-start my pulse.

“I love you too, Care Bear. See you soon.”

CHAPTER40

BRAYDON

Soot and foam coat every surface of the kitchen. Burned wood, rubber, grease, and an unpleasant chemical smell linger in the air. Much of the kitchen is charred from the fire, but the emergency system kicked on early enough to douse the worst of the flames.

Firefighters deemed it safe for us to sleep on the second floor but suggested we leave windows open for ventilation. After police and rescue left the scene, we climbed the stairs on wobbly legs and crashed face-first onto the bed. When my eyes cracked four hours later, the sheets beside me were cold. Alessandra nowhere in sight.

I’d found her on the couch, knees to her chest, blanket wrapped around her form. Without a word, I’d padded across the room, taken a seat next to her, and pulled her into my arms. We stayed like that until Anderson came out an hour later.

After a healthy dose of coffee, Alessandra called each employee and passed on the news of the break-in and fire. Asked them to come in for their shift, but instead of serving customers, they would help with cleanup. If the equipment was salvageable, they’d make a plan for a makeshift café until the shop was fully operational again.

Now… it is aftermath time.

Broom in hand, I sweep glass shards and fractured pieces of window framing. Anderson separates the dining furniture into sections—intact, damaged, and broken beyond repair. Alessandra picks up and inspects the machinery behind the service counter. Checks the fridges and bakery cases. Pauses every few minutes to hang her head or wipe tears off her cheeks.

An hour and three loaded trash bags into cleanup, several employees and members of their family step through the front door. Their gasps and tears say more than any words.

“Brought goodies from Sweet Spot.” August holds up two brown bags.

Anderson points to the undamaged tables. “Those are safe to use.”

After a quick break to snack and catch up, we all get to work. August and Sharon go to the kitchen and curse the mess as they step in. Piece by piece, we do our best to restore Java and Teas Me.

As the minutes tick by, more people show up. Fellow shop owners along Main. Friends and family. Residents and tourists. With each person that appears, another set of hands pitches in. Cleans or delivers food and drinks. Just past noon, someone shows up with a grill and coolers full of burgers, hot dogs, and drinks. Another person with buns and condiments and sides.

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