“Did you bump your head too hard last time?” He places his hands on the counter and stares at me.
“No, I mean maybe. I don’t know.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I’ve got this study thing with Claire.” I let out a breath. “What does she usually get?”
A wide grin spreads across Bram’s wrinkly old face. “I’ve got you covered.”
Thankfully she comes in here enough that Bram probably has a decent grasp on the kind of stuff she likes. He’s thorough that way, paying attention to what his regulars order.
He pulls two paper cups out and fills them to the top, putting a dash of cinnamon into each of them. He strolls over to the bakery area and grabs two blueberry old-fashioned donuts from the case.
“You’re kidding me?” Bram must be playing a trick on me.
He shakes his head. “Nope. Trust me, I was just as shocked as you.”
The memory of Bram’s food showing up on my doorstep comes crashing in. It wasn’t that she had guessed my order correctly, it was that she mixed up mine with hers. She probably had ordered for herself, too, and gotten mine plain, but swapped them on accident.
It shouldn’t matter that we share such a very simple thing in common, but somehow, it makes me feel that much closer to this fascinating girl I can’t seem to get out of my head.
It’s hard to believe that she wasn’t put in my path for some higher reason.
But it’s all for nothing, because I can’t pursue her. I can’t entertain a reality where I selfishly go after something I truly want. I’d be risking too much, and that wouldn’t be fair to her.
“On the house, I insist.” Bram shoves the rolled-up takeout bag toward me. “She’s a special one, don’t mess it up.”
“It’s not like that. It’s strictly professional.”
“Then why are you nervous?” Bram’s never been the type of guy to sugar-coat shit or beat around the bush.
He’s the closest thing to family that I have, and I’m not sure I would have made it this far in life without him. He’s aware I’ve gotten myself tangled into a dangerous mess, but he somehow still has faith that I’ll find a way out of it. It kills me that I have to keep secrets from him, but the less he knows, the better. I wouldn’t put it past him to storm over to Franklin’s place of business and give him an earful. People like Franklin can’t be reasoned with though, not the way Bram would expect, and attempting to do so would only put Bram’s life in danger.
I keep him in the dark to protect him.
Right now, though, he can see straight through my smokescreen.
I roll my eyes and grab the coffees from the counter. “See you later, old man.” I make my way toward the exit.
He calls out across the moderately busy crowd. “I want an invite to the wedding.”
I keep walking, not entertaining his antics anymore.
Claire may be absolutely perfect in my eyes, but I’m a broken shell of a man, and I would never allow myself to ruin her with my tortured soul.
She deserves someone kind and thoughtful and chivalrous, someone who is there for her at all times, who treats her with every single ounce of respect and never lets her down. Someone who appreciates her beauty and handles her with the utmost admiration.
Not someone like me. Not an unreliable, hotheaded asshole. Not me.
I belong in hell, and she belongs in heaven.
I punch in the code to gain access to our complex and stroll across the courtyard, approaching her from behind.
She has her back to me, headphones covering her ears, completely lost in whatever she’s writing down frantically onto her notebook. She’s this piece of art that shouldn’t be touched.
She’s everything and I am nothing.
The moment expires when my shadow casts over her shoulder, distracting her from what she’s doing.
She tugs the headphones down and quickly snaps her book shut. “Hey.” Her gaze falls on the stuff in my hands.
I hold one of the cups out to her. “Here.” I motion to the spot next to her. “Do you mind?”