Page 95 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

I read the article more than once. It’s nothing that I don’t already know. I lived through the whole ugly ordeal, and I’ve either guessed or been told Brinley’s feelings about it.

That doesn’t make it any less impressive. She wrote her real story under her real name, and I couldn’t be prouder.

She was braver with one blog post than I’ve been in five years of silence.

34

BRINLEY

Beau slept on my couch.

He’s never done that before. If we ever had an argument, he’d go back to his place, not crash at mine. He’s still avoiding the House of Cards, though. There’s a chance he’ll run into the guys in the lobby, but if he sneaks in through the back entrance, he can mostly avoid them. I suspect the real reason is that when he’s back at his apartment, the fact that his friends are just upstairs, ignoring him, hurts him. He’s exiled himself to my place because he doesn’t know where else to go.

Walking out from my bedroom in the morning, guilt weighs heavy in my stomach as I see his big body crammed on the small couch. He’s contorting his body to a tiny space because of me. His face looks peaceful, at least.

I hurry out before he can wake up. It’s still early, the shadows long on the sidewalks as I head toward the Copper Cup to face my customers for the first time since everything blew up. I try not to think about how the future of my relationship was dangling from a few threads, and I just chose to snap all but one.

Beau and I love to ignore problems—it’s how we got this far into our relationship. I wonder whether he’ll ignore the fit I threw about him buying the building, or if he’ll see the nice, clean exit I’ve given him.

If you’re so pissed at me, maybe we should just break up.

I kept waiting for him to say it. I acted as bratty as I could, making accusations about control that I didn’t really believe. I know Beau was trying to be helpful. Of course, I’m still a little pissed he didn’t ask. If Beau offered outright to buy the building, I might have resisted at first. I still don’t love the idea of paying rent to my own boyfriend. Eventually, though, I would have compromised, because it’s what’s best for the Copper Cup.

Buying the building without asking was always going to lead to a fight. It just wouldn’t have been a relationship-ending one.

I almost cry when I see Trevor standing in front of the Copper Cup, holding a stuffed animal of a capybara holding a cup of coffee.

“Who’s this?” I ask the capybara.

“It’s for you,” Trevor says, staring at the ground. “Because of—I mean, the whole—well, you know.”

I can’t blame him for struggling to find a euphemism for because your hidden identity blew up your life and also your business.

“Thank you, Trevor.” I take the capybara and hug it tight. “I’m really sorry I had to cancel your shifts so last minute.”

“It’s fine. Some people messaged me, I guess because they know I work here. And if the messages I got are anything like the ones you’ve been getting⁠—”

My heart sinks. Just when I think it can’t get any worse, the Internet harasses my student worker.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with that⁠—”

“Hey.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s fine, Brinley. I can take a few mean emails from strangers. If they’re too cowardly to say shit to my face, then they’re not worth a second of my time. I’m just trying to say, I get why you closed the store for a bit. It was the right choice.”

His face is slightly flushed, but there’s no fear in his eyes, and I realize that sometimes I underestimate the kid. He’s much stronger than I give him credit for. I can’t stop myself from throwing my arms around his thin frame.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his shoulder. “For everything.”

“Y-you’re welcome.” He pats my head awkwardly, like I’m some dog and pulls away from my hug. “Is Eden coming in today?”

I slide my keys into the lock. “She’ll be here in a few minutes. She ran out of the apartment early to pick up a surprise.”

We don’t find out about the surprise until it’s several minutes before opening. The coffee’s done brewing, the pastry display is stocked, and the new arrivals are stacked on the table out front. The only thing left to do is turn the closed sign to open, and I’m not sure I have the emotional strength to do it.

Eden rushes in with a small shopping bag. “Sorry, sorry!” she says. “Just had to make a stop at the Christmas market.”

“You know it’s the wrong season for that, right?” I laugh.

She pulls out two sets of hair clips with little red-and-white peppermints on them and hands one to me. “I thought we should show a little pride in case anyone comes in looking for a fight. And for the gentleman, something a little more masculine.” She tosses Trevor a red baseball hat with a peppermint patch on it.