Page 79 of A Coffee Away

My chest lightened at his relaxed features. At the way his face softened when he took a sip. It was a pleasure to watch him drink coffee. You could feel how much he enjoyed it. How much happiness it gave him.

I recalled the countless times he’d sit right here, doing his sketches as I laughed over his silly jokes.

I swallowed dryly, my gaze set on his lips. On his throat as he swallowed. Fuck. A sudden warmth spread throughout my body at the memories of him. Of the way he could use that pretty mouth. Of the ecstasy he could bring me. Oh, the things I’d do to him if I could. The heights I could take him to. I parted my lips.

His honey eyes settled on me. Some foam was lodged on the corner of his mouth.

I touched my lips. “You’ve got some here.”

He brushed it with his thumb, then licked it clean.

My breath caught, and I cupped his cheek. “You missed a spot.” I wiped my finger over the same spot, softly caressing his skin before withdrawing my hand.

He shivered.

Not many would notice, but I’d memorized his reactions and lived for them. Pleasure swept through me at the knowledge of his body still recognizing my touch.

I let out a muted groan. “I see you liked it.” My voice was thicker than I wanted, but I couldn’t help it.

Robbie dipped his chin, averting his eyes.

I lifted it. “You’re cute.” I stroked his chin, fought the urge to tell him everything, and drank my coffee.

We finished our mochas in silence, then went for a walk.

“This is where I write,” I said.

We strolled by the same spot where we sat the day he left his parents. The park was empty.

He jerked his face toward me. “You’re an author?”

I shrugged. “A poet.”

Would he connect the dots? Would he know I was the one who wrote the book he always carried with him?

He walked ahead of me and blocked my way, gripping both my shoulders. “For real? Show me!”

A chuckle escaped me at his giddiness.

I lifted an eyebrow. “You like poetry?”

“I love it!” He widened his eyes and stepped back, as if suddenly realizing he’d been touching me. “Sorry. I mean, I don’t know if I’ve always liked it, but when I woke in the hospital from my coma, someone left this book for me. I hid it so I could take it home. It’s the one I bring to the café.”

Carmen told me she’d been the one to tell him about it so he’d find it.

He shifted in place. “You see, my parents. They…” He clenched his fists. “They’re using the doctor’s orders of letting everything come naturally to me to the extreme. I don’t have anything from my past or anything that could give me a hint as to who I was. They told me to trust them, that I should use this opportunity to create a new life. I asked about the accident and got nothing. I asked for pictures, and they stayed silent. That book is the only thing I have from my past. It’s been an anchor ever since I found it. I’ve searched the title, but nothing comes up. There’s no author name printed on it, just a note.”

I’d expected as much, but it still hurt like hell. For them to force a new life on him. My blood boiled at what they did to hide me from him. My chest tightened, my heart sinking under the weight of it. Thank God I’d left the book behind.

I took his hand. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I’ll show you my poems someday. Promise.” I stroked the inside of his palm, trying to give him some kind of comfort. I couldn’t imagine the sense of loss he was experiencing. “Want to grab something to eat?”

His stomach rumbled, and he giggled. “I guess that’s a yes.”

I took him to the Miramar Food Truck Park. I called Stephany and Eva and told them about us coming today. It was part of my plan to bring him to the places we frequented and see where it took him.

“How can I help you?” Stephany’s throat bobbed as she waited for Robbie’s order.

“Chicken wings. They’re my favorite.” He glanced my way. “What do you want? It’s on me.”