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FIVE

AMOS

Bo approached with two coffee mugs and set one in front of me before taking a seat. “Sorry, that took me a while. I thought of something I needed to ask Caspian for the January Winter Wishes festival.”

“No problem. I was busy perusing the books.” I jerked my thumb toward the shelf of historical fiction near our table. “Has this been here a long time? I don’t remember there being books before.”

Bo shook his head. “Caspian came to town about a year ago and bought the coffee shop from Old Mac. The bookstore addition was his idea. Cute, right? The tourists love it, and he’s great about ordering books for me.”

“Very cute. Thanks for the coffee.” I peered into the milky liquid in his mug as I took a sip of mine. “Is there any coffee in there? That’s even paler than what I drink.”

“If the caffeine doesn’t keep me going, the sugar will.” He took a sip and sighed. “Best coffee in town. No offense to the diners.”

I laughed. “None taken. I need more zhuzh to my coffee than what we have at Sparky’s. I’ve come in a few times since returning home. It’s really good.”

In high school, I hadn’t been a coffee drinker, so I hadn’t spent much time in here when Old Mac ran it, though I’d heard what he served was more tar than coffee.

Now, the place was charming and cozy with delicious-looking pastries in the case below the long counter.

With the exposed brick walls and wood floors in a rich, warm tone, it would fit right in with the trendy neighborhood coffee shops in Boston.

Bowie’s familiar smile took me right back to high school. He had a few more wrinkles and a couple of gray hairs mixed with his black waves, but he was still the boyishly cute kid who’d been my closest confidant for so long.

My stomach twisted as I thought about all the years that had passed—and how I’d let them—without keeping in touch with the person who’d been my best friend for over a decade. I knew it was a two-way street, but I should’ve made an effort.

“It’s great to see you, Bo. Thanks for making time to grab coffee and catch up. I’ve been meaning to reach out since I got back to town.”

“Me too. I heard you were back, but I’ve been so swamped with work. But as Mickey always says, life will pass me by unless I make time for things.” He shook his head fondly.

An uncomfortable sensation settled in my gut.

I didn’t want to analyze whether it was the mention of Mickey bringing up confusing feelings or adjusting to the knowledge that Bo and Mickey were friends now.

It made sense they would be since they were both in Maplewood, but Bo and I had been close for so many years.

Did Mickey know him better now than I had back then?

While part of my brain spiraled over changing friendships, the more animalistic part produced an image of Mickey on his knees, taping my jeans, staring up at me with his soulful eyes.

Just hearing his name or a mention of Red’s now triggered the most vivid part of my imagination to revisit Halloween.

Stop thinking about Mickey!

I’d scolded myself repeatedly over the past couple of weeks, but it hadn’t helped. If anything, it made it worse. Seeing him at the Holiday Hoopla meeting had crushed any delusions I’d created around my attraction to him being a fluke.

I managed a laugh. “It feels like graduation was a few years ago, but we’re creeping toward twenty years. Where has the time gone?”

“It flies when you’re having fun. Or working too much.” Bo gave me a long look. “I was hoping you’d come back for the ten-year reunion.”

I sighed. “Me too, but my job had other plans for me.”

There had been a time when some Sparky’s employees used to tease that Bowie and I would end up married someday, but I had never thought of him that way.

Not even when we’d been each other’s first kiss while practicing for our first “real one.” I was thrilled to get this chance to rekindle our friendship and was relieved there was still no spark of something more.

The last thing I needed was to fall for someone in town when I needed to focus on figuring out my next career move and getting back to Boston.

I pushed away the image of Mickey laughing over one of my bad jokes while wearing that ridiculous wig.

“Mom said you’re basically involved with everything happening in town. It sounds like nothing’s changed.”

Bo laughed wryly. “I like to stay busy.”

I chuckled. “Oh, I remember. President of Key Club, Future Business Leaders of America, National Honor Society?—”

He held up his hands, palms facing me, laughing. “Okay, okay. Please don’t remind me of how little sleep I got in high school. I’m still trying to catch up.” He tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows. “You were just as bad as I was. Are you still overachieving?”

Bo’s boyish smile took me right back to high school, when we’d sit at the counter at my parents’ diner and work on homework while eating our weight in seasoned fries without a care in the world.

If only life were still that carefree and full of promise.

Instead, now I felt like I was drowning in quicksand.

My smile faltered. How was I supposed to tell him I’d been laid off from an unfulfilling career in Corporate America and couldn’t force myself to hurry back?

“I grew out of that phase many years ago.” Before Bo could press for details, I decided to change the subject back to him.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to see you living here and working for the city.

I thought you’d be running some nonprofit in New York.

” Though we hadn’t really stayed in communication over the years, I’d seen snippets of his life on social media and he’d seemed happy in New York after college.

There was a wistfulness to Bo’s smile, even as sadness lingered underneath.

“That was the plan, but when Grandma died and I inherited her house, I couldn’t justify staying in a city where my job barely covered my basic expenses.”

A deep ache settled in the pit of my stomach as I remembered all the nights I’d slept over at Bo’s grandma’s house when we were young.

I’d been on a business trip in Japan when Mom called to say she’d passed, and I hadn’t been able to get home for the funeral.

Mom had sent flowers from our family, and I’d left Bo a voicemail, but I still regretted not doing more to be there for him.

I’d grown up a lot in the several years since and knew better now how to make more of an effort.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I wish I’d done more to be there for you.”

Bo’s kind smile was more than I deserved. Where was the manual for being an adult that covered things like how to be a good houseguest, navigating dating in a world of hookups, and how to support friends through loss if you haven’t talked to them in years?

“Amos, it’s okay, really. I didn’t expect anything and appreciated that you reached out, even though we hadn’t talked in years. Don’t give it another thought. Truly.”

Even though we hadn’t kept in touch, I could still read him like an open book and knew his words were genuine.

After sending him a grateful smile, I leaned in and let my eyebrows bounce suggestively as I turned the subject to something more fun. “Have you found anyone in this utopia of queer hotties?”

Bo snorted. “Hardly. I’m far too busy to date. I’ve got enough work to keep me busy twenty-four seven. Plus, I know pretty much all the eligible bachelors already and I’ll pass.”

I nodded in commiseration. “My job was the same. Makes it hard to maintain a relationship, that’s for sure.” I’d reached the point in my dating life where I was invited to work dinners or weddings for my conversational skills and potential hookups, but not much more.

Before I could try and pull more details from Bo about his dating life, the coffee shop’s front door opened, ushering in a gust of chilly fall air.

Mickey stepped in looking like the cover for a Mister Vermont calendar, and I caught a groan before it escaped and led Bo to ask questions I had no interest in answering.

Seriously, no man had the right to look that tantalizing in a buffalo plaid flannel and well-worn jeans.

While Bo told me about a guy he dated who broke up with him via an email to Bo’s work email , claiming it was the best way to get his attention, my own attention kept wandering over Bo’s shoulder to Mickey, who was chatting with Caspian.

“Is that Mickey’s voice?” Bo shifted in his chair to look toward the counter. “Mickey, hey! Join us when you’re done.”

Mickey lifted his hand in greeting and smiled easily at Bo, but when his attention turned to me, his smile faltered ever so slightly.

More hesitant than anything. How could I blame him?

The circumstances were awkward as hell. We weren’t friends or even acquaintances, yet I knew how his bulge filled my hand.

We’d likely been spoon-fed the same competitive bullshit from everyone in town our entire lives, so part of me knew I should maintain a professional distance while planning the community dinner.

The other part of me—the one I feared might win—couldn’t wait to spend more time together, even if it was to put together a menu.

Growing up, I barely knew anything about Mickey, beyond some basics I learned by simply being in the same town.

Patrons in Sparky’s often gossiped about Red’s and the Flynns.

I never would’ve expected him to be an adorable weirdo with an opening line about pralines and dick ice cream who made cryptozoology sexy and kissed in a way that made my toes curl.

Mickey tilted his head back and laughed at something Caspian said, and I had to admit, he had grown up well.

He’d been cute back in school, and I’d always been fond of his shoulder-length wavy hair.

I wouldn’t have expected the burr buzz cut to work so well for him, but it did.

His hair looked soft—like it would tickle the palm of my hand.

“Look, this is awkward, but Mickey and I have become close friends. I hope that won’t be an issue.”

My head snapped toward Bo at the worry in his voice.

“Not at all. You’ll never find another Amos, but I suppose Mickey isn’t so bad.

” I winked. “Though it breaks my heart to think of you eating at Red’s instead of Sparky’s.

” I grinned to soften my words. Okay, maybe I was a teensy bit jealous, but I was mostly glad they’d become friends.

I liked the idea of them finding each other, though I couldn’t help but hope there wasn’t more to it.

Bo laughed. “No one but your mom makes crispy bacon exactly as I like it. I still go in there for brunch once or twice a month.” He leaned close and lowered his voice to an almost whisper.

“I’m one of the few people in town who can get away with eating at both diners. I’m Switzerland with a happy belly.”

Mickey reached the table and hesitated, glancing at me before pulling out the chair across from me next to Bo.

“Good to see you, Mickey,” I said, perfectly pleasant and not at all flirty.

“Uh, yeah, you too, Amos.”

My name came out awkwardly, like he was trying to pronounce the most complicated Latin phrase. It was adorable. It certainly made me feel better that I wasn’t the only one struggling to play it cool.

“Are you working today?” Bo asked breezily, seemingly oblivious to the tension around him.

“Day off. Stopped for coffee between, um, meetings.” Mickey darted a glance at Bo.

“Ah. Yeah.” Bo shot a quick look at me.

What didn’t they want to say in front of me?

“You stopped in at the perfect time. Amos and I were just catching up since I wasn’t able to stick around after our festival meeting the other day. Sorry about springing that on you both. I thought the best offense was surprising everyone.”

“So no one had a chance to say that forcing Red’s and Sparky’s to team up would ruin the festival because we wouldn’t be able to pull it off?” Mickey’s lips twisted into a wry smile.

Bo rubbed the back of his neck. “You know me too well.” He sent me a sheepish smile. “Have you two found time to talk about the menu yet?”

Mickey aimed a wide-eyed stare at me.

“Not yet, but we’re on it,” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel.