52
CLAIRE
Idrive the three blocks from campus and park across the street from my destination.
It’s eerily similar to Bram’s, with the glowing signage out front and the large windowpane that shows the contents of the diner. Immediately, I’m taken back to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and blueberry muffins. That home away from home feeling that cascaded over me the second I stepped foot into Bram’s diner.
I hadn’t been out west long, but I grew attached to that place and the man with salt and pepper hair and advice that was almost always on point. He was like a fairy-godfather, one that I would love to consult with on what the heck to do with this new information I’ve learned about Johnny’s past.
I smile, thinking of Bram playing matchmaker with me and Johnny when we were in theavoiding each other like the plaguestage of our relationship. The look on Bram’s face when we finally started getting along was priceless, like he had hit the lottery. He looked out for Johnny as if he was his own flesh and blood, and I admired how much the two of them cared for one another.
Just goes to show you that sometimes the best family is found.
Which brings me to sitting in front of this knock-off Bram’s, squinting my eyes to get a better look from my spot tucked carefully in my car.
I really could use a cup of coffee, so what’s the harm in wandering inside for one?
I swallow down the nerves building up and do exactly that, hitting the lock button on my key fob and crossing the relatively empty street.
How have I lived here my entire life but never visited this specific coffee shop? Maybe because it’s not within a walking distance of the house I grew up, and until recently, I’ve done the majority of my traversing on foot.
“Welcome to Bane’s,” a friendly teenage girl with rosy cheeks greets me.
A barista pulls a shot of espresso, and a middle-aged woman sits in the corner, tapping away on the keys of her laptop.
Taking everything in, I stroll toward the ordering area, where a large chalkboard has the menu listed. I study it over, out of curiosity more than anything.
“What can I get for you?” It’s another teenager, this one with a beanie on his head and a sad attempt at a mustache hovering above his lip.
“Coffee, black. Please.”
The guy blinks at me, like he’s waiting for me to rattle the variations of milk and syrups I’d like to include with my order.
“With a dash of cinnamon.”
“That’s it?” He seems stunned by my sort of simple order.
“Yep.”
He pushes a few buttons on his screen. “For here or to go?”
I bite at my lip, knowing damn well I should leave, but the nosiness in me not letting me go that easily. “For here, please.”
“Miller,” a deep voice calls out from the back.
The cashier turns his head to glance behind him. “Sir?”
My heart nearly drops when the man comes out. Dark, bushy hair with a hint of silver poking through. Bright emerald eyes and long, long lashes. He’s easily six foot something, with a wide but not too wide build. Intimidating to say the very least.
The man catches me staring at him and he pauses. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with a customer, carry on.”
Manners? From a potential mob boss? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sprouted a tail or set of wings and flew away.
Miller gives me his attention once again. “That’ll be three dollars.”
I slide him a five, take my change from him, and end up handing him a single back.
The kid offers me a smile. “Thanks.” He turns around, grabbing a cup and a saucer from the stack by the kitchen window and setting it in front of me.