I wait for him to respond. My cell phone damp with sweat in my palms. My words were hurtful. Not purposely harmful, but necessarily honest. I feel content in my own company traveling the world. But contentment is worlds away from happiness. Brooks is the only place in this world where I feel happy. When I’m with him, I never feel alone. And the harsh reality of that scares me more than anything in this world. He has the power to break not only my heart but also my spirit and soul.
Brooks: Will you let me buy you a coffee.
Henley: Yes.
I don’t think before replying. I’d rather live in the pain of seeing him than with the regret of not.
I arrive deliberately late. Afraid he’ll stand me up. Petrified of sitting in a coffee shop alone and hopeful only for him to decide it was a mistake to suggest it.
Shedding my layers as I step into the coffee shop he’d suggested, I search the space with an anticipation that turns my stomach. My heart rattles in my chest at an unhealthy speed. Scarf held loosely in my hand, I pull at the beanie on my head as our eyes lock. He stands, the deep swallow in his throat as obvious as my own.
Two years.
Twenty-four arduous months of finding myself while needing to stay lost.
My feet move forward of their own accord, and I can see the physicality of his sigh. The relief that drops his shoulders. He smiles then. A small smirk, one that hasn't changed throughout the years. The tip-up at the right side of his mouth, a slow blink of his beautiful blue eyes as he takes me in.
Standing in front of him, I let my eyes track his face. Cataloging everything I’ve missed over the past few years.
At only twenty-seven, he exudes a maturity most often seen in middle-aged men. Life experience tucked comfortably in his pockets. The better part of a decade spent solo, traveling the world, and embracing different cultures will offer you that. I don’t doubt, staring into my eyes the way he is, he sees a similar experience in me.
Hair cut in the same style he’d worn at Addy’s wedding, the length drops over his forehead, obscuring the view of his left eye. The light shades that danced through the color have faded, having given way to the dark brown you’d be forgiven for thinking was black. The bottom half of his face is decorated in a shadow of dark hair, a thick mustache hiding the rich red of his lips.
“Squirrel,” he breathes, hand grabbing hold of my jacket to pull me into an embrace I feel starved of.
My arms wrap around his waist like a vise, cheek to his chest. I breathe him in. Drowning myself in the relief of feeling at home for the first time in years. A single sob escapes my throat before I can stop it. The sound broken and relieved and altogether full of affection.
Brooks pulls me closer, nose to the top of my hair as he inhales. His hand finds the nape of my neck, holding me against him.
“One minute, Henley. I need a fucking minute before you pull away from me.”
The quiet desperation in his tone forces another sob to break free and I press my face into his chest, hiding the sound from the crowd around us.
He steps back before I do, hands moving to my cheeks as he looks at me. Really looks at me.
“Telling you I missed you seems deficient in meaning to how I actually feel,” he whispers.
I close my eyes to catch the pool of tears within them.
“Let’s get a coffee.” I feel the loss of his hands on my face like a wound to my heart, but I nod in agreement, opening my eyes to the blistering affection in his.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
We turn to the gentle husk of the man standing beside us.
“The shop is pretty busy this morning and you two look like you could do with a quiet space to catch up.”
I look at Brooks and then at the man again. I’d guess he’d be in his late thirties, clean-cut and excessively handsome.
“Do you work here?” Brooks tests cautiously.
The stranger smiles. “My wife does.” He points at the pretty barista, watching him in curiosity. “When I can manage it, I work from here so I can glance at her throughout the day.”
I smile. “That’s sweet.”
He shrugs. “I’m here early enough to snag that spot in the back corner.” He gestures behind him. “You guys take it. It seems you could use the quiet.”
Brooks pulls me into his side. “Thanks . . .”
“Tripp.” The man extends his hand. “And you’re welcome. I’ll just move my stuff.”
“Take a seat, Squirrel. I’ll order for us.”
I follow the kind man to his seat, watching as he collects his things.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
He glances up at me. “What’s your name?”
I clear my throat. “Henley.”
“Pretty name. Henley, I’ve learned through experience that kindness from a stranger can sometimes be the push you need in life. You and your friend look like you could use a bit of kindness.”
I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
He winks and disappears, moving toward the barista to kiss her before sitting down on the seat Brooks had occupied only moments prior.
“Cool place, yeah?”
I look up at Brooks, taking the coffee he hands me with a nod of my head. “Nice people, too.”
“We must have looked a mess for him to give us his seat.”
I laugh lightly. “It wouldn’t be hard to tell we’re broken.”
His eyes settle on me for longer then comfortable. A stare I should look away from but can’t find it in me to do.
Opening his mouth to speak, he pauses mid-exhale, closing his mouth, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Mixology?” he questions after a beat.
I wait a moment, afraid he’ll continue. That he’ll work up the courage to say what
