Page 49 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

Beck

T he morning after Justin’s attack, I get a call from the lead officer on the case.

Justin is getting charged with assault with a weapon, trespassing, property damage, and property damage in relation to Hazel’s apartment, among others.

Hazel doesn’t cry when I tell her, but relief comes off of her in waves.

This means that Justin can’t touch her again.

He will likely go to jail, even if for a short amount of time, and when he gets out, she can get a restraining order against him.

I had taken the liberty of sending the video and audio to her insurance company, too, and given his confession and the charges he’s facing for her apartment vandalism, she’ll be receiving her money from them as well. She looked like she might break down again when I told her.

I head back to the shop to check the damages, leaving Nessa at home to keep Hazel company. Kyle and James stayed behind to help clean, and while Kyle may be a layabout on a regular day, the rage I saw from him at what had happened had apparently driven him to get everything as neat as could be.

We lost at least seventy percent of our product, but since it happened to company property on company property, I was assured that insurance would replace everything. We still have to push the launch back by a few weeks in order for the funds to come in and be able to reorder what we need.

I sent out a pre-made communication from Hazel, letting our customers know there was going to be a delay.

Apparently, some news article came out about the attack and there was a flood of support on our socials.

Small businesses in the area are reaching out to help and collaborate, people are donating funds to us to help replace lost wages while we take a few days to fix things, and the verbal support from our customers has been nothing short of astonishing.

I force Hazel to take two weeks off until her move.

She’s so banged up; my vision still goes red when I see her ribs.

The bruises are slowly fading, but I don’t allow her to do anything at home.

I cook all the meals, clean, pack her items, and make her come.

Even that is my task now, and she’s having fun letting me know when she needs it.

I will be at her beck and call as long as she wants me to.

The night before moving day, I hold her so tightly as she sleeps, not knowing when I’ll be able to do this again.

I watch as she breathes slowly, steadily.

She had nightmares the first few nights, waking up screaming, and then crying because of the pain from twisting around in the sheets.

I would hold her, rocking her, letting her feel what she needed to feel until she fell back asleep, but I’m still on high alert.

She got hurt on my watch, and while it wasn’t my fault, something in my neanderthal brain has been keeping me overly vigilant.

I wake her as the sun rises, placing kisses on her exposed shoulder and stroking her hip. She rolls over to me and smiles when she opens her eyes.

“Good morning, handsome.” Her voice is groggy.

“Good morning, sugar. Today’s the day!” I’ve been trying to keep excited for her about the move.

It’s agony, but it’s what she wants, and I will be her cheerleader today if it kills me.

She wilts almost imperceptibly before sitting up and stretching, her shirt pulling up just enough to expose some of her stomach, and I swoop in to place more kisses there, too .

Her giggle echoes around my room and I savour the sound.

The plan for today is for her to bring over a few things and pick up her keys, and once she’s in, I’ll bring over the rest of her belongings. She wants to see the space first and take a breather, and I can’t even blame her. It’s a big day.

It’s late November, so she’s adorably bundled up in a heavy jacket and scarf when I bring her a coffee in a travel mug at the door. Nessa loaned Hazel her car, so she’ll be able to drive over and not worry about lugging her bags, even though it’s a fairly short walk.

My one consolation is that she’s still going to be so close to me.

“I think I’ve got everything I need for now, you’ll come by later?” she asks, taking the coffee from me. She doesn’t have the same smile as she sips, and she keeps checking the list on her phone. She chews on her lip as she reviews it one last time.

“Absolutely, just text me when you’re ready, love.” The nickname slips out. I haven’t told her I love her, but I know I need to soon or I’m going to explode. She kisses me firmly.

“Absolutely. I shouldn’t be long. Maybe we can do dinner together there tonight?

” I’m giddy at the thought of her wanting me to be there, too, wherever she is.

In the past few weeks, she’s been keeping closer to me, sneaking in kisses, touching me as she passes me, finding more and more excuses to be close to me.

Last week, she followed me into the shower and got on her knees, surprising me. Though she might not know it yet, I know how she feels about me. I see it in her actions every day.

Fish comes up to the door and licks her all over her face when she bends down to give him love.

“You’ll be welcome there, too, buddy,” she says, smiling down at him.

I look at her in astonishment, “My place is dog friendly. I wanted him to be able to come visit.” The pink apples of her cheeks have nothing to do with the cold, and I want to take her then and there.

She made accommodations for Fish. Even scared, she planned for me to be around .

With one last wave, she darts out to the car, dodging snowflakes.

I wait at the door until she’s no longer in view, then sigh and go back inside. I sit on the floor of the living room with Fish half in my lap. No one ever told him he’s not a lapdog, apparently. He rubs his head against me and whines.

“I already miss her, too, buddy.” I’m already fighting my own instincts to run after her.

I give him some scratches before I stand up to take my own coffee mug back to the kitchen. I’m drying it when I hear a knock at the door.

Standing outside are Stella, Nessa, and Maria, whom I was not expecting at all.

“Surprise!” they call out, holding out boxes of food, breakfast and baked goods. Maria is carrying grocery bags with her, and they shuffle in.

“This is definitely a surprise.” I scratch my head.

“We thought since it was moving day, we’d bring treats!” shouts Nessa, jumping up and down. “Where is she?”

“She actually went over to grab the keys. You just missed her.” Three faces fall at the same time, perfectly choreographed. I’d laugh if I wasn’t about to vomit.

“Oh, well, that sucks,” says Stella dejectedly, her usually sunny demeanour becoming cloudier. “Maybe we can come see her new place when she comes back for the rest of her stuff?” she suggests, gesturing to the few boxes near the front door.

“I’m sure she’d love that,” I try to say warmly, not wanting to hurt any of their feelings in case Hazel needs some space to herself. “Can I put those in the fridge for you?” I ask Maria.

“Actually, your mom told me about your girlfriend and her new apartment, so these are for her. It’s annoying to stock a fridge on the same day you move.” I’m touched by her generosity, and a little annoyed at my mom.

“That’s really sweet Maria. Why don’t I help you bring your things to the spare room? ”

“Oh, I can help with that!” Nessa says, darting immediately back outside. Someone needs to cut her caffeine intake.

“She’s a little…” starts Maria.

“Crazy?” I offer, and she and Stella laugh.

“I was going to say cute.” She winks at me.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn sternly as Nessa comes back inside with Maria’s bags. They’re almost as heavy as her, so I’m not sure how she’s carrying them all, but Maria steps away to help her, leaving Stella and me in the kitchen with the food.

“You already miss her, don’t you,” she says knowingly.

“Yeah.” I don’t bother denying it.

“She loves you, you know. You’re not losing her.”

“I know,” I put my arm over Stella’s shoulders, and we stand in the kitchen for a while.

I’m obsessively checking my phone while Stella putters around making herself a tea.

I stole one of the subscription boxes that survived, knowing I had to replace everything else anyway.

May as well count this one in. “I know coffee’s not your thing, but you should try this. ” I slide my fresh mug over to her.

“Man, this tastes great! No wonder people were excited about it,” Stella exclaims.

“Yup! Nothing better than a home brewed coffee,” I agree, remembering Hazel’s first impression of it. I can’t shake the feeling that I need to follow her. It’s at the back of my mind, refusing to back down like an itch that demands to be scratched.

How am I supposed to be okay with just letting her go?

“Dang, you should have made that the name of it,” she says offhandedly, but my brain stalls for a minute. She’s right.

Before I can say anything, my front door bursts open. Given the kind of bursting in we’ve experienced lately, I race to the entrance to see who it is as my anxiety spikes.

“Beck!” I hear someone call out from the door.

In my entrance, red-cheeked and huffing, is Hazel.