Page 47 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

Hazel

P acking day is going surprisingly smoothly.

After my confrontation with Beck, where we laid everything out on the table, it became a lot easier to talk to him.

We were able to work with our supplier and get a simpler version of our boxes, keeping the theme but without the logo, which got them to us in time.

They arrived yesterday, looking absolutely perfect, and now all we have to do is pack up the goodies.

We closed the café for the day and any available staff member has come in to help pack them up.

We got Mel, Nessa, Beth, Kyle, and even James to come out and help.

Stella is away visiting her dad, but she said she would help us hustle next month.

We have everyone’s phones stashed in the office, so nothing gets accidentally packed, and we have a killer playlist blasting, courtesy of Mel.

I quickly snap a pic of all of us working to put on the café’s Instagram story before adding my phone to the stash. I’m trying to revive their social media accounts and actually make use of them.

Mel, Nessa, and Beth are packing boxes, and James is arranging them for pickup in the back.

It’s about time we put those muscles to use, and the boxes are pretty heavy once they’re all ready to go.

There are mugs, coffee supplies, some syrups—we decided to make it a mixed bag, what people would get.

Everyone loves a surprise, and then we can do a survey on feedback about what people liked.

Beck is building the boxes from their flat state, and I’m doing quality checks at the end of the assembly line.

I can’t believe launch day is tomorrow. This is what we’ve been working on for months now.

We’ve had over three hundred people subscribe and we have another two hundred on a waiting list, chomping at the bit for one of these boxes, which is far beyond what any of us could have imagined.

Beck nearly cried when he saw the final numbers, and spun me around the room, kissing any skin of mine he could reach.

Our contact at the bean roaster is getting us set up to come in and roast ourselves next month, which will take some of the expenses off now that we have a specific flavour profile selected.

Beck is already looking at making space in the back to do our roasting in-house, make it more of a spectacle.

I love to see his imagination run, to see what he can come up with. He really does have a mind for this business, and I know this place is going to flourish under his watch.

We talked about my staying on board for marketing and running the subscription service. With the amount of interest we’ve had, and the waiting list, he says he can make it a full-time position and I can make almost as much as I did at my old job. Which means I get to stay.

Finding somewhere I want to work with someone I truly want to work for feels like a dream come true. Seeing him crunch the numbers to see what he could do to make me stay, it tugged on my heart. The effort he’s putting in to make me feel secure, to make me feel wanted, and… loved.

Nessa might be right. I keep telling myself it’s too early, but the way he treats me… Justin always said he loved me, my mother said she loved me. Seeing how Beck treats me makes me realize that that wasn’t love. This is love. This is what it’s supposed to feel like .

It’s supposed to feel like he’s the air that I need, like my skin is on fire when he touches me, like I want to carve out my own heart and offer it to him to see if it would make him smile.

The fight we had, him coming back to talk even though he was mad at me. Him holding me, not letting me run away. These are the things I remind myself of. He had every reason to leave, but he chose to stay and love me anyway.

So far, I’ve been too nervous to tell him the three little words that have been on the tip of my tongue for days. It might not be too soon for him to feel this way. I can’t figure out when I’m supposed to say it.

I busy myself checking boxes, making sure that tissue paper is folded neatly, that boxes are packed tight, all the shipping labels are correct. If I do this right, I may not have to talk to another person about anything other than work for the rest of the day.

In other words, I’m a coward. I’m avoiding him because I know it’s going to slip out somehow.

“Hazel! Can you come check this for me?” calls Mel from the middle of the assembly line.

“Sure thing!” I shout back, quickly finishing my current task. Beck catches my eye from across the room before disappearing into the back, giving me a look I can’t decipher. He’s either incredibly hungry, or I’m getting fucked six ways to Sunday when we get home.

Well… to his house. Despite the fact that I’m moving in two weeks, I keep calling Beck’s house home . I feel comfortable there. The thought of leaving, no matter how badly I need to, makes anxiety twist around inside of me. I have to remind myself that it’s for the best.

When I get to Mel’s station, I see the problem she’s having with the tissue paper, and we quickly get it resolved.

I’m deeply concentrated when I hear the front door open.

It’s probably Kyle coming in with the lunch we ordered for everyone.

He’s been pretty useless, dicking around in the back on his phone instead of actually helping, so we sent him to do the easy job.

I don’t bother looking up until I hear my name.

“HAZEL!” I turn to see the commotion.

Standing there, in all his sweaty, grimy glory is Justin. Again.

What the hell is this guy’s problem? I have rejected him every way I know how, and he still won’t give up. He’s a cockroach that refuses to die.

I look around for Beck, but he’s still in the back helping James stack the goods. The music is pumping pretty loud, so I doubt either of them heard anything. My palms begin to sweat as he surveys what we’re doing.

Icy terror floods my veins as he grabs a heavy chair sitting next to the door and wedges it under the handle, blocking us in. He prowls towards me like a predator, which is when I finally notice the wooden baseball bat in his hand.

Holy shit.

I look around nervously at the other girls, and before Nessa can run away to her phone, which we put on the back counter so nothing would get accidentally packed away, he points the bat at her.

“Don’t you fucking move, Nessa,” he snarls, moving towards her.

He gives her a once over, a leering grin twisting his face.

“Fuck, you look good, though. It’s been a while.

I expected you to call me.” Her face is aghast and her eyes flick to mine.

I know she would have never called him. He is definitely not in his right mind.

Justin turns his attention back to me.

“Well, Haze, looks like you’ve done well for yourself, huh?”

I have never hated that nickname more. He runs his bat over the table of goods. I’m sure we could overpower him together, but with a weapon in his hands? This needs to be resolved calmly and quietly.

“Why are you here, Justin?” I’m trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. I don’t want him to think I’m afraid of him, but I am. He has a wild look in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. It’s only a look I’ve ever seen in my mom .

Is he high? Or is this how he’s always been, and he’s been keeping this side from me?

“You know, I thought we had a good thing going. I thought you were decent. Maybe a boring lay, but you had your uses.”

“Justin-”

“And then I find out what you did. I can’t catch a fucking break, and you know why? Because of YOU! ” He points the bat at me, spittle flying from his mouth. “I can’t believe you talked to my fucking mom; you bitch!” He swings his bat at one of the tables, knocking off at least fifty mugs.

I flinch at the crash, hoping it’s loud enough to alert Beck and James over the pounding bass. Or actually, even just James. That guy is built like a freaking tank.

“You went to her spreading lies?!” He swings again, clearing off boxes and stepping on them to get to me, crushing them in the process. I’m taking slow steps backwards until I feel my back hit a table and I have nowhere else to go.

The other girls are frozen at their tables, looking between the door, the office where we put our phones, and Justin and I in the middle of it all. I see Mel start to move and I quickly jerk my head no—he’s too unpredictable right now, and I don’t want anyone else getting caught in the crosshairs.

He swings his bat down, nearly crushing my hand where it grips the table. I make a small scream before he grabs me by my hip and pulls me to him. His breath wafts in my face, rancid and poisonous.

“You go and tattle to my mom, and now she fucking kicked me out! What the fuck is wrong with you, Haze? I would have forgiven you for fucking Beck and locking me out of our apartment, but you go and turn my mom against me?!” His voice is so loud it’s making my ears ring, and I barely register as he shoves me back against the table, trapping me there.

I know I’ve hit it pretty hard. I don’t have time to think when he grabs me by the ponytail .

“You think you’re too good to fuck ME ?! You’d think the state I left our apartment in would be enough of a message, but I don’t know, Hazel, do you need the same treatment? Do you need to be reminded who’s in charge?

“You were always supposed to come back,” he growls in my ear. The sting on my scalp has my eyes watering, tears trailing down my cheeks freely, and no matter how I move, I can’t get away from him.

It turns out I don’t need to as he throws me to the ground, slamming his boot into my ribs. I curl in on myself as I hear one of the girls scream, trying to keep any sounds of pain from leaking out. I won’t give him the satisfaction.