Chapter Twenty-two

Since the day he tossed Rob out of Grounds N’at, Brian found it harder and harder to paste on a smile and add that happy lilt to his voice during the workday.

And all he was doing lately was working. He wiped a table free of crumbs and checked the state of the half-and-half pitcher.

He’d had two shifts off since he’d told Rob to get the hell out, and every hour in Grounds N’at was like walking barefoot on broken glass. Less and less people frequented the shop and he couldn’t blame his customers for not wanting to be served by the world’s grumpiest barista.

He rubbed his forehead.

Even the folks from Sam’s company weren’t coming down as often, and when they did. . . . They all knew, from the looks and frowns and glances.

When Fazil came in, he had the same long, worried look that Eli usually wore, sans the penetrating gaze. Fazil studied the counter after ordering and stood in silence while Brian made his mint latte.

He finally spoke when he paid. “You know, I’ve been there.” He contemplated the top of his drink then looked up.

“I remember,” Brian said. Fazil had returned from a business trip a wreck of a man—partly due to reuniting, then breaking up with, his old high-school boyfriend. Brian had been worried about him. Everyone had been. “But it worked out for you.” Todd had moved to Pittsburgh and a few months later, they’d eloped and bought a house.

Fazil studied Brian. “Todd took a big chance.”

“Somehow, I don’t think Rob’s going to take that kind of chance.”

“Maybe he’s not the one who needs to.”

That punched Brian hard in the chest. He wavered and reached out for the counter to steady himself.

Fazil nodded and dropped a dollar into the tip jar. “See you later, Bri.”

Harder and harder to catch air. Brian scooted sideways from the register and sank down on the stool. The bell on the door rang when Fazil left, adding to the whirling in Brian’s mind. His cellphone burned in his pocket.

Maybe . . . maybe Fazil and Justin were right. He pulled his phone out and stared at the screen. Worth a try.

He called Rob—and it went straight to voice mail. “Hey, it’s me. I—just wanted to talk. I hope—I hope you get this.” Brian ended the call.

The shop had only two customers in it, and for once he was glad for the small numbers. He wasn’t sure he could stand. Numb didn’t even begin to describe how his legs felt. So he sat and stared and tried to get his breathing back to normal.

Eventually, he got up and puttered around the shop, cleaning things, taking stock, and checking his phone every five minutes for a reply.

Nothing. He tried a text. Nothing.

Tingling from his toes to the back of his head. Had Rob blocked him? He lowered himself onto the stool again. Had to admit it was a distinct possibility, especially after what he’d said.

Shit.

By the time Beth came in for her shift, Brian was sipping water in an effort to quell the rising nausea. His heart wouldn’t slow down, and he hadn’t even had that much caffeine today.

In her expression was everything he feared. He must look awful, which meant customers saw the same. “That bad?” he murmured.

She frowned, but it was sympathetic. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.” After she tied on her apron, she washed her hands.

The truth from Beth’s lips. He hadn’t slept . . . not well, at least. “It’s been quiet today.” The shop, his phone. Everything but his brain and heart.

Beth took stock of the shop. “You know, I can handle the rest of the day and closing if you want to head home.” She paused. “You’ve been here every day for a week and I know it’s been rough.”

He’d worked longer than a week straight. But he wasn’t about to correct her, or look to see how long it had been since he’d had a day off. Beth knew how to close and how to set the alarm, the whole thing. They’d finished her training, but he hadn’t let her close solo yet. He ran a hand through his hair. At some point, he had to have faith in his new people. “Yeah, okay.”

She stood taller. “Really?”

He nodded. “You’re right, it’s not been a good week for me. I could use the time off . . . and I trust you.” He met her gaze. “I do.”

Her smile brought out her dimples, and seeing those was a bittersweet thing. Reminded him too much of Rob. But it was also gratifying to see her happy to be working in the shop.

That hammered home another truth. “I should apologize for the way I’ve been recently. I’ve been . . .” He struggled for a delicate word, but gave up. “I’ve been an asshole. It’s not fair to you or anyone.”

Even if he couldn’t turn the shop around, he didn’t need to make anyone else’s life miserable.

She twisted her hands in her apron. “That means a lot, Brian. You have been hard to work with sometimes.” She glanced around the shop. “Everyone’s noticed.”

He winced, but it was the truth. He hadn’t seen Dan, Ev, or Jan in ages. Or some of the other regulars. “Gonna try to fix that.”

She nodded and stepped forward to grip him on the shoulder, a warm, friendly touch. “Start by going home and relaxing. The shop will be fine, I promise.”

He had to trust her. Had to. Didn’t have anyone else and he wasn’t functioning. Too exhausted. Too strung-out. He ditched his apron, gave her a wave, and walked out the door.

He was greeted by a warm, partly cloudy day. Perfect for biking, hiking, or grilling. He wouldn’t be doing any of those, least of all with Rob.

Brian trudged up Murray to Darlington, body aching the entire way, and climbed the stairs into his warm and stuffy apartment. Throwing open all the windows helped, as did changing into shorts. He left off the t-shirt.

Though his stomach whined at him to eat something, the thought of food roiled. Nothing in the fridge looked palatable and his cabinets were empty, but for soup.

Too warm for that.

Delivery meant pizza but none of the good places delivered, so he might as well throw on a shirt and go out for something healthier. Greener. He’d been consuming a whole bunch of crap lately. Except dining out would remind him he was alone and why.

He flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling, fingers and toes tingling and twitchy. Now that he was home, he couldn’t relax, not when his head hurt and his heart felt too heavy to be lodged in his rib-cage.

He’d never hurt this bad from a breakup. Usually there was heartache, but also an underlying sense of relief, of freedom. A chance to do his own thing. Focus on the shop. Photography. Whatever.

Now? Only the hollow depths of anguish and a deep sense that he’d done something horrible and irreversible.

He’d fucked up. This time, he’d completely fucked up.

Still no response on his phone. He checked the time—midafternoon—and called again. Once more, he got voice mail immediately.

That . . . wasn’t good. He slid the phone onto his nightstand. Usually it rang a couple of times, even when Rob had it muted. A creeping sensation gnawed up his body and he covered his eyes. More and more likely Rob had blocked him. No reply would come. Rob didn’t want to hear from him at all.

He sat up slowly and studied his bedroom. He’d lived on the sparse side since starting Grounds N’at, first out of necessity, later practicality. The shop ate a decent amount of time even when it ran smoothly. Besides, other than photo editing, he preferred activities that kept him out of the house and enjoying life.

Right now? Life was shit. Work was shit. Brian closed his eyes and tried to slow the pace of his heart.

When he and Anita had broken up, he’d spent his next day off in the Laurel Highlands, hiking. Now he couldn’t muster the energy to walk a couple of blocks to get a damn meal.

When his phone rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Rob?

He snatched it up, but no, it was Len. Brian steeled himself—Len always knew when he was upset, just from his voice. Still, he went for chipper and upbeat when he answered. “Hey, bro, how are you?”

A pause on the other end let Brian know he’d blown that performance. “I’m fine. On layover in Atlanta. Figured I’d call and catch up.” Another pause, then the inevitable question. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I—uh. It’s the shop. And Rob and—” His voice caught in his throat.

A shuffle of something on the line. He imagined Len leaning forward like he did in person. “Shit, Bri. Did you break up with him?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. He had. That moment—Rob’s slapping down forty dollars and walking out—the paleness of his skin and his haunted look—it was now etched in Brian’s memory. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

A sigh from Len. “Please tell me it wasn’t because he’s a guy.”

Brian stopped breathing for a second because he couldn’t believe what Len had said. “No. Why would you—?” Anger sparked in his chest. “Did you think I was lying about being bi?” That was the last thing he expected from his brother.

A sharp laugh. “God, no. Like I said, I’ve known for years. But you did step out for Rob. Didn’t know if this was you getting cold feet . . . or because of the shop.”

Everything with Rob had felt natural. Right. Except this. “The shop.” Brian swallowed. Never any other reason. All his relationships fell to Grounds N’at—and his pride. “Shop’s been bad. I’m in the red and there are less customers. Higher prices on supplies . . .”

A grunt. “And you’re working more hours?”

He nodded, though Len couldn’t see that. “I know that bothered Rob. I’ve been there most days.” Too many days. Not enough free time together.

Then, Saturday had happened.

Len spoke soft words, tinged with a loving overlay of you dope. “Of course it bothered him. It’s hard watching someone you love work themselves into the ground.”

“I’m not—” He barely got the words out.

“Brian.” Sharpness to Len’s voice.

Okay, yes, he was grinding himself down to nothing. He saw that in the mirror every morning. Defeated, he spoke again. “I know. He wanted to help me.”

“And you got snotty and vicious at his suggestions? Like you did with Anita?”

Brian cringed. In the end Anita had walked out on him. I can’t compete with this mistress. She’d waved her hand to encompass the shop and left.

He doubted Rob would have walked away. Too much of the problem solver. He’d have stayed until they’d figured something out.

Another sigh from his brother. “Shit. I really hoped he’d be different for you.”

Brian’s heart and lungs tightened and he had to push the words out. “He is.”

Silence from Len. Only the faint sound of his breath told Brian he was listening.

“He is different,” Brian said. From Anita, from any of his other lovers—as few and far between as they’d been.

“What do you mean?”

“I screwed up, Len. With Rob. I didn’t want—” His arm shook. Hell, his entire body shook. “God, I was so angry. It’d been a horrible day and he started talking about the shit he’d seen on the ’net and—I snapped. Now he’s gone.” He’d never felt like half of his life was missing after Anita had walked out. He’d been upset, sure, but . . . God. Rob and him. He couldn’t imagine life without Rob.

Everything he wanted and needed for the future was tied to what he and Rob had started to build. That trust. That companionship. “I want him back.” More than the shop, more than anything. “I want him back and I don’t know what to do.” He hiccupped for air and fought against the need to sob.

“Have you tried calling?” Len’s voice was quiet, but clear. A lifeline of sense and caring in the cacophony of self-loathing that were his emotions. “Bri?”

“I did. Texted, too. But—I think he may have blocked me.”

A hiss. “Shit. What did you say to the dude?”

What had he said? Some parts of that afternoon were so clear in his head. Others—not as much. “I—think—I told him to shut the fuck up and get the hell out of my shop.” He cringed. “And I may have accused his company of using child labor.”

Len groaned. “Fuck. Yeah, he probably did block you. In the same situation, I would’ve.”

Brian squirmed and heat flooded to his face. “Thanks a lot.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, tears contained for now. “So, what do I do?”

“Go talk to him.”

As if it were that easy. “I can’t, Len. He’s blocked me!”

On the other end, there was a thump and a huff. “Bri, there’s more to life than cell phones. You know where he lives and you know where he works. You go—physically—and talk to him.”

“You’re saying I should go and—I can’t just go to his company and ask to see him!” Could he? The thought echoed in his brain, unlocking the tension in his back.

Len laughed. “Of course you can. What do you have to lose?”

Nothing. He had already lost Rob. He might lose the shop, if things kept heading south. Crazy-ass idea, but there wasn’t any other option.

“What if he says no?” He’d never tried to get back with someone after a breakup. Never wanted to. But he’d also never loved anyone like he loved Rob.

He loved Rob. Brian rubbed his eyes. Still. Missed him. Wanted him. He needed to see that smile and hear that voice. Feel those fingers on his skin, Rob’s lips on his.

Len spoke the other side of the coin. “What if he says yes?”

Brian’s heart thumped heavy and hard in his chest, and a painful stab of hope ached through his body. “I don’t know.” Whispered words.

Something creaked on the other end—probably Len on his hotel bed. “You need to figure out what’s important to you.” Despite the mundane background noises, Len sounded like some old sage. Fucking older brothers. They had a habit of being right.

Still, he protested. “I’ve spent years building up the shop.” Not quite ten, but man, he was getting close. He blinked back tears again. If Grounds N’at closed, he’d lose a good chunk of his life.

“And you’ve known Rob for a few months,” Len said.

Time that felt so much longer. From the moment Rob had stepped into Brian’s life, he’d become part of his bones and blood. He’d never believed in love at first sight—but man, something had happened that day. A connection. A bonding. They’d built and built on that foundation, working toward something utterly beautiful. Then he’d torn it all down to ruin with his anger and insecurity.

“Are you saying Rob should come second to the shop?” That wasn’t like Len. Especially when he’d cautioned Brian about working too many hours and burning out.

“No.” Annoyance there. “I’m saying you need to figure out what’s important to you. Rob or the shop?”

“They’re both important!” He wanted to lob his phone across the room. He stood instead and paced. “God, the shop’s been my life, even before I owned it. And Rob—Rob is—” His friend. His lover. His partner. Or had been.

Brian’s gaze fell on the photo of his family that sat next to his computer. One from a summer day, not so different from today, back when they were younger. His parents sat on the porch steps, arms over each other’s shoulder, both grinning ear to ear. They were flanked by Brian and Len, with Zoe on the steps below them.

His mom and dad had worked damn hard for years—but always put family above everything. His mom worked third shift to be there when they got home from school. Dad worked days to get them up and out. Sacrificed for what mattered most, especially when Len had gotten into trouble. The money for attorneys. Therapy.

The heart of family is the people you love. Brian. When everything else is gone, they’re still there for you.

Rob. He exhaled. “I know what’s important.”

Len’s voice was warm. “I had a feeling you did. Bet you know what to do now, too.”

Yeah. The haze and noise in his head were gone. “I owe you one.”

Len chuckled. “I’ll put that IOU with the others.”

Brian laughed, and for once, it didn’t sound like a sob.

“Hey,” Len said, “I should catch some sleep. I have an early morning flight to the West Coast.”

“God, Len, I’m so glad you called.”

“Hey, what are big brothers for?”

Apparently talking sense into him. “Let me know when you’re back in town. We can catch a beer together.”

“My treat,” Len said.

“We can fight over it.” Probably would, too. They said their good-byes, and Brian hung up and slid the phone onto his desk.

His heart wasn’t pounding. Maybe this was the eye of the hurricane—calm and centered. If the shop fell down, he’d survive. Hell, he’d survive if Rob didn’t want to get back together. Be horribly heartbroken, yes. Probably for years.

But he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try.

Time to see if he could clean up the mess he’d made. How and when, he didn’t know. The schedule had him working every day from now until eternity, including all day tomorrow. Alone.

Brian stared at the photo of his family. Family. Love.

He closed his eyes. Time to take a chance.

***

Brian unlocked Grounds N’at the next morning, disabled the alarm, and relocked the door. He hadn’t slept, his head too full of Rob and the conversation he’d had with his brother. When his alarm blared out at six thirty, he’d shut it off and gone through his normal routine with all the things he wanted to say to Rob tumbling through his head.

He should wait for Saturday, since he wasn’t working in the morning and neither was Rob. He could go down to Rob’s house, ring the bell, and apologize in person, though he wasn’t sure he had the right words to say.

I fucked up. I’m an asshole. I love you. Please take me back. Yeah, that would go over well. Sure.

But two days from now, that was the plan.

He stood in his shop, scanning the darkened space, and his heart sank straight to his feet. The thought of coffee made his stomach roil even though he knew he needed the caffeine.

Given the shaking in his hands and the buzzing in his blood that sent spikes up his spine with every step, he wouldn’t survive the day. Not when his heart was full of regret and his brain churning.

His stomach was a mess. His mind. Heart. Everything. Verging on tears if he thought too much—which he couldn’t stop doing.

Brian took a deep breath. There was no one to call to fill his shifts—that’s why he was working them, after all. He rubbed his hands against his jeans and glanced at his watch. Still thirty minutes before the shop opened.

He had bills to pay and he needed to take a good hard look at the menu and see if he could cut anything. Figure out how to entice people back.

Except without Rob in his life, he wasn’t sure fighting to save Grounds N’at was worth it. Wouldn’t help if he kept the shop but lost his heart.

He pushed a hand through his hair. Family and love were what Anita had wanted from him. He couldn’t give that to her and she’d found someone else who could.

Before Rob, he’d never thought about a time after Grounds N’at. He couldn’t run the shop forever. Someday he’d retire. Who’d he spend his days with? Who’d help him make pasta? Watch old movies? Go on long walks?

He bit back a sob. Better if he let Rob go. When his chest tightened and eyes watered, he gulped air. Nope. Wasn’t an option. Saturday then.

Or— Today. He could go apologize today. Head down to CirroBot like Len had suggested and talk to Rob. Get this all worked out now. Today.

Maybe then his head would be in a better place to solve the issues with the shop. Or he could close the damn place once and for all before it killed him.

Brian headed into the back. Paper. A Sharpie.

He wrote the date, then wrote in big block letters:

CLOSED TODAY DUE TO PERSONAL EMERGENCY

After grabbing a roll of tape, he stuck the sign up on the front door. He could do this . . . he was the owner, after all. The world would survive one day without Grounds N’at.

Though the edges of fatigue nibbled at him, he didn’t make a drink for himself, just reset the alarm, locked the door, and headed back to his apartment.

Too early to head down to CirroBot. He’d have to wait a couple of hours—but better that than two days.

Rob was far more important than Grounds N’at.