Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(7)
In silence I lived far too long in the valley of sadness
Alone and feeling nothing
Will it be easy to need you?
—Casey Stratton, “In Silence”
Given her druthers, Mo didn’t wake up before noon. I, on the other hand, was used to getting up at the crack of dawn for swim practice, and decided that driving up to Holland to work out while Mo was still asleep would strike a good balance between my need to keep in shape and spending time with her before she had to leave.
As I came down the stairs, I heard the unmistakable high-pressure hiss of milk being steamed. I’d seen the espresso maker the day before, but hadn’t truly realized what it would be like to have lattes available every morning without leaving the house. Suddenly it felt like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one.
“Good morning, Topher,” Brendan said mildly. If I’d been slightly less groggy, I might have been self-conscious at being alone with him after stumbling out of bed, but mostly I was just waiting for my brain to get it in gear. Apparently my little crush wasn’t so all consuming that it trumped the need for caffeine. “Coffee?” he asked.
I should probably have waited until after my swim, but I was too damn tired. Last night had been one of those nights when turning my brain off to get to sleep had taken a long time. I nodded eagerly, and he slid me the first latte, then turned to make another.
“Thank you.” I took a sip and closed my eyes in bliss. “Wow, this is really good. What—”
“It’s the beans. I have no idea why they’re so good, but they are. A few years ago, a colleague of mine let us borrow his time-share at a resort in the Cascades near Sisters, Oregon. Adele loves to golf, you see, and they have two eighteen-hole courses.” Sheesh, time-share golf course condos. I gave Mo’s assertion that they weren’t loaded a mental side-eye. “When we got there, we just picked up whatever beans were available at the general store, which happened to be from Sisters Coffee Company.” He raised his voice to be heard over the hissing of the steam wand. “This roast is called Black Butte Gold, and we all loved it. First thing we did when we got home was order more beans from their website.”
I beamed and went full-on coffee nerd with him, babbling about working as a barista the summer after my freshman year at college. I think his eyes glazed over a bit, but it was nice to talk to someone who truly appreciated good coffee. Mo—the Philistine—would drink anything that was infused with caffeine, no matter how vile.
“So what are your plans for today, Topher?” he asked when he’d finished his own latte.
I cradled my cup between my hands, soaking in its warmth. “I’m going up to Holland to do my laps at the aquatic center there, then hitting some places and dropping off résumés or picking up applications. I figure I can afford the gas to commute this summer if I have to, since I won’t have to worry about rent and all that; so anything between here and Holland is fair game, though I’d prefer something closer if I can find it.”
Holy word vomit, Batman. I shut my mouth so hard my teeth clicked together, and forced myself to stay still when the nervous energy tried to emerge as fidgeting instead.
“Do you want breakfast?” Brendan asked once I’d (finally!) quit talking.
I shook my head. “I’ll just make a piece of toast. I don’t like swimming when I feel too full.”
He turned toward the toaster, and I hopped up from my stool. “Oh, I can get it! You don’t have to—”
Brendan waved me off. “I think I can safely pop a piece of bread in the toaster without feeling overburdened by unreasonable demands.”
I flushed and sat back down. “Sorry. Thanks.”
“Not sure why you’re apologizing, but you’re welcome.” He set out a butter knife and the jar of peanut butter and honey spread that Mo and I favored. He must have been familiar with Mo’s tastes. “So, you didn’t answer my question last night.”
“Hmmm, what’s that?” Wow. He had really long, gorgeous fingers, the bones and veins under the skin really well defined. From what I could tell, his physique was nothing to write home about. Middle-aged, sedentary lifestyle. He probably did enough time on the treadmill to keep his weight down and nothing more. The hands, though . . . I ripped my eyes from them.
“You said you lived with your aunt and uncle from middle school on up. Where did you live before that?”
“Oh. Grand Blanc, a bit south of Flint, with my grandmother.”
His eyebrows drew down thoughtfully as he slid a piece of toast across the counter toward me on a plate. “Where are your parents?”
“My mom’s around Flint, too, but I couldn’t live with her.”
“Should I ask why not, or would Morgan scold me for being nosy?”
I shrugged, slathering the spread on my toast. “We—my sisters and I—lived with her until I was midway through the first grade. Then one day, the cops showed up and took us away in the back of a patrol car. It was pretty upsetting. I thought we had done something wrong. We stayed overnight in a group foster home, and then my grandmother picked us up. The second time it happened, my aunt and uncle took custody of my younger sister, who was only about three at the time, while our grandmother took me and my older sister. Back then, you know, I didn’t know what was going on. I thought we must have done something wrong for the police to take us away like that. But now that I’m older, I’ve figured it out.”