Page 10 of Steeped In Problems (Badges & Baristas #3)

Kristy shook her head, a short, jerky motion that set her curls bouncing.

“I just want to get ready for the lunch crowd,” she said, but her voice came out thin—a thread instead of a rope.

She pulled away from the counter, avoiding Tanner’s eyes, and with the practiced efficiency of someone who’d spent years running on adrenaline, she started prepping for midday in earnest.

She was everywhere at once, yanking fresh espresso beans to the grinder, refilling the creamers, and hustling the pastry racks from cooler to display.

She wiped down every visible surface—then wiped them again, her hands moving with force bordering on aggression.

The scent of disinfectant started to overpower the nutty warmth of roasting beans.

But even as she worked, Mark’s words stuck to her skin like spilled syrup.

Every time she caught her reflection in the chrome of an espresso machine or the glass of the bakery case, she imagined him behind her, smirking, waiting for her to screw up.

Every step she took echoed with his voice, “Didn’t realize you’d traded scrubs for an apron.

” The old resentment and humiliation crawled up her throat in equal measure.

She tried to bury herself in the rush. By eleven-thirty, the shop was crammed again.

Orders barked out in rapid succession—two iced lattes, caramel drizzle, one oat-milk chai, three shots, no foam—and Kristy became a machine built for service, handing off drinks with a smile, even as her hands shook each time some rude customer snapped their fingers.

Tanner, for his part, kept half an eye on the door but did not hover, a silent, steady presence at the edge of her vision. Whenever the line dipped, he loitered near the sink, rinsing cups that Kristy could’ve sworn were already clean.

The hour ticked by at a crawl, and with every drink order, Kristy felt the sweat build along her hairline, pooling at the base of her neck, slicking her palms until she had to dry them on her apron every few minutes.

Even the regulars noticed. Mrs. Espinoza, who always came for a single decaf and half a cinnamon roll at lunch, reached over the counter and gave Kristy’s forearm a gentle squeeze.

“You okay, mija? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Kristy blinked, then gave a watery laugh. “Just busy,” she said and tried to believe it. “Thanks for checking in.”

When the bustle finally ebbed, and she had a moment to breathe, Kristy retreated to the back corner.

She put her head in her hands and tried to slow her breathing.

She wasn’t about to cry in the middle of the shop, not now, not ever.

She counted to ten. Usually, that was all it took for her to stuff an encounter with Mark in a box and padlock it, but this time, it didn’t seem to work.

She didn’t hear Tanner approach. He moved like he was still on a call—quiet, precise, taking up just as much space as he needed. He sat down across from her, not close enough to crowd her but close enough to be a barrier against the rest of the shop.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

She kept her head down. “Not really.”

“Fine,” Tanner said. He sat back. Waited. She could feel the weight of his attention, heavy but not pressing.

After a minute, she gave up. “That was Mark,” she said. “My ex.”

Tanner didn’t respond, just waited.

She started talking, and once she started, she couldn’t stop.

“We dated for two years. He made me feel like nothing was ever good enough. He didn’t like how much I worked.

He said I cared too much. That I should be more like him, just clock in, clock out, don’t get involved.

Whenever I’d lose a patient or come home wiped from back-to-back close calls, he’d say I was being dramatic.

That I was weak.” She looked up at the hero wall, at all those faces.

“He’s the reason I left nursing. Or part of it.

I was tired of being told I couldn’t handle it. ”

Tanner’s gaze didn’t waver. “From what I can tell, you seem to be able to handle worse than him.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” she admitted.

Tanner was quiet, the way only someone who’s heard confessions before can be. “He’s wrong about you.”

She laughed, but it sounded brittle. “You don’t even know me that well.”

Tanner shrugged. “I know, but I do know what it looks like when someone gets knocked down and stands up anyway. Saw it on the force. Seen it in here with so many first responders.”

She wiped at her eyes, annoyed at herself. “I thought leaving him, leaving the hospital, would be a clean break. But he’s still in my head. Every mistake I make, every time I drop something, I hear him. Telling me I’m not cut out for anything good.”

Tanner said nothing for a long moment. Then, finally shared, “I used to be good at what I did, too. After the accident, I couldn’t even make a sandwich without dropping the knife. It took months to do stairs without thinking I’d eat pavement.”

Kristy stared at him. “But you look fine now.”

He grinned, sharp and self-deprecating. “It’s all smoke and mirrors. You patch it up and move on. Some days, it works. Some days, not so much.”

They sat in the silence, not awkward, just shared. Kristy let the words soak in. She realized he wasn’t judging her. He wasn’t even trying to fix it. He was just...there.

She took a long, shaky breath. “He’s going to come back. He always does.”

“This is my place, which means I reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.”

She laughed, this time with some warmth. “What are you going to do, threaten to arrest him?”

“Only if he tries to mansplain how to prepare our lemon loaf again.”

She shook her head. “He’s a jerk but not dangerous.”

Tanner’s eyes flashed. “You don’t have to deal with jerks on your own. You’re not alone anymore.”

It sounded so simple. But it was the most radical thing anyone had said to her in months.

She pushed up from the chair. “I should get back to work. Daisy’s probably about to start a union if I’m gone too long.”

Tanner stood as well. “You good?”

She squared her shoulders and found her balance. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He nodded. “Anytime.”

They walked back to the counter together, and Kristy felt lighter than she had all day. She picked up a pitcher and went back to making life better, one cup at a time.