Page 15 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

“Whoa! Wait, Hazel, what’s wrong? What happened?” He follows me as I try to leave the coffee shop, confusion written all over his face .

Beck’s concern is nice, but I don’t want to burden him with this.

We have such a nice thing going, spending days together, having breaks and chatting, getting to know one another.

I can’t show him all of this mess, not if I want him to keep me around.

I just have to muscle through this until I find a new permanent position.

I’ll probably have to give up working here even if I hate the idea of that.

I have to do what I need to in order to pay bills.

Surviving always has to come before anything else, no matter what I want.

“Nothing, it’s fine, I promise, I really have to get going.” I can’t stop the sniffle that comes out, only causing the crease in Beck’s brow to deepen.

“Why don’t I walk you home? No offence, you don’t seem to be doing… great.” His hand grazes the arm that clings to my bag, a look of urgent insistence in his eyes.

“Yeah.” The sobbing laugh that comes out of me is involuntary, “you could definitely say that.”

I lean into him slightly and he wraps his arms around me.

I take a steadying breath, smelling the coffee that seems to permeate the clothes of anyone working here, and the deep notes of spice.

It’s a smell I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of.

I take a moment to collect myself before gently pulling away.

Beck runs to the back to grab his messenger bag and let Stella know that he’s leaving for the day.

I debate leaving by myself and moping in private before he emerges and holds out his hand to me.

I take it and allow him to lead me out of the shop and walk me home.

With my hand firmly in his, I don’t need to pay attention to where we’re going.

I lose myself deep in thought and he never once asks me to divulge what happened, which I’m grateful for.

I don’t want to be in public when I inevitably spill my guts.

Upon entering the small apartment, Beck having invited himself in behind me, I walk to the fridge and pull out two cans of sparkling water, offering one to him, which he silently accepts.

He follows my lead, placing his bag on the floor near the entrance and sitting down at the kitchen table.

Then, we simply sit quietly as he waits for me to start .

I take a deep breath and force it out.

“Apparently, in my work contract, they added in a strict no-compete clause without telling any of us. They told us about one change, so I didn’t think to look any further.

” His expression darkens, glaring at the drink in his hand as I continue, “So, when Justin called my boss to tell him what I’ve been working on, probably after Marie snitched.

That, in combination with the fact that Justin then told him that I had cheated on him, in some very unflattering light, might I add, that was all the evidence he needed that I’m not fit to work for their company.

” Tears are flowing freely from my face onto the table now.

My whole life has flipped in two measly weeks, and I was just starting to pull myself together, too.

What a fucking disaster.

“Hazel, I…” Beck’s face is distraught. “I am so sorry. If I had known, I would never have offered you the work.”

I flinch. That one hurt. Beck panics and backtracks.

“Not because you aren’t qualified! I mean that I never wanted to get you in trouble.

” He reaches across to grab my hand, and I let him.

“I can’t believe they would do something so underhanded…

” He loses himself in thought for a moment.

“Was there a morality clause in your contract? I can’t seem to wrap my head around how your breakup would affect your position.

” His other hand reaches up to twist his hair, messing up his bun even further.

I’ve noticed he does that when he’s deep in thought. It’s pretty endearing.

“Not so much of a morality clause as a ‘company culture of honesty and integrity’ clause. We sign off on a code of conduct every year that includes how we act outside of work and how it ‘represents the company’. I’m sure he only mentioned it to rub salt in the wound.

” I exhale deeply, my tears slowing as I speak.

“Even without that, I’d be screwed. I can’t believe I was so stupid! ”

I lay my head on the table, covering it with my hands.

I just want to curl up in bed for the next few weeks and not have to deal with or think about any of this.

I feel Beck’s hand join mine on top of my head, and slowly push mine aside as he begins to methodically stroke my hair.

He continues the soothing motion for a few minutes while I try to catch my breath, the rhythmic stroking soothing and comforting, so hypnotic that I’m leaning into it.

“I would promise that everything is going to turn out, but I know that’s not going to be much of a comfort right now,” He moves to the chair next to me without stopping his gentle petting.

“What I do know is that you’re ridiculously talented, and this will not be the last work opportunity for you.

I have seen your work ethic. You are tenacious, strong, funny, any man or company would be lucky to have you on their team.

It feels shitty now, but something is going to come along and sweep you away, and you’re going to deserve every bit of joy you get out of it.

” His soft words have me raising my head to meet his gaze.

“You really think so?” It feels pathetic to ask. All I want is some goddamn reassurance, and I want to hear it from someone else. I want to feel less on my own in this shitstorm.

“I know so.” The heart-melting smile of his comes out now, and I lean to rest my head on his shoulder. “In fact, I think I can promise you that things will be okay. I’ve had my fair share of… work stresses. Every storm is weatherable. Everything is… figureoutable.”

“Thank you,” I practically whisper, sniffing. I sit up straighter and wipe my face, glad that I have minimal makeup on to smear.

“Any time, I mean that.” His hand moves up to cradle my face.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, I didn’t want you to see me this way.” Beck has somehow seen every bad moment I have had in the last month. And I think I’ve cried in front of him more than I have cried in general in the last five years.

“Hey, no apologies for being human. I would act exactly the same way if I was in your position. Actually, I have cried while being in your position.” His self-deprecating humour is a balm on the horrendous day I’m having.

Him trying to comfort me means so much more than he can possibly know. I was almost always the one doing the comforting in these situations, so I let myself enjoy this small moment .

“What if we had a chill day, just you and me? We could watch a movie! You look like you could use a break, and I… well, I don’t want you to have to be alone.

” Beck stares into my eyes, and I almost forget what he asked me.

Then, I remember what transpired not a moment ago.

I know that I’m probably going to lose it and have an absolute sob-fest later tonight, and I want to preserve at least some of my dignity after today.

“Well—"

“And we both know you’re not going to call Nessa, so you can keep that excuse to yourself,” he smirks knowingly at me.

He’s not wrong, either. That was my plan, to tell him she would come over, and then isolate.

“You know she and I are best friends; I would have found out, too,” he says it jokingly but I feel my face heat anyway. He really has my number.

“Fine,” I say, pulling myself up and away from the much-needed contact he had been providing, “but I get to pick the movie, and you can’t complain if it’s too girly.”

“I grew up with my cousin, Maria, I have watched any and every romcom she wanted, and all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls and loved it,” he says it with such pride, I believe him. I still have to give him at least a bit of a hard time.

“Oh yeah? So, are you team Jess or team Dean?” I squint at him, trying to look intimidating, which I’m sure is super not working.

“Are you kidding? Secret option number three. Team Logan all the way—Dean was a cheater, and Jess lost his chance by being a dumbass, in my humble opinion. She can do better than all of them, but Logan liked her for who she was and what she offered, and wanted to support her. He wasn’t perfect.

He loved her for who she was, so he’s the winner in my books. ”

I stare at him. That is, in fact, the right answer to my trick question.

Shit. I might have to keep him.