Page 47 of Christmas Coffee

Nova

Bleary eyed and half frozen, I roll over and pray to God that it’s nearly sunrise. I’ve managed to shower once or twice a week by sneaking into the showers at the state park. The only downside is the water is icy and the gas it takes to get there. Dodging the park rangers is getting difficult. No one is camping right now and my crappy old car is easy to spot. I can shower at Tinselly’s once or twice a month and she won’t know something’s wrong, but I didn’t want to chance it. The more I’m around her, the more I want to fall into her arms, crying. My strength is all I have left and if I can’t take care of myself, what good am I?

I’m curled in a ball in the backseat, shivering. My face is frozen. Sleeping under blankets and most of my clothing isn’t enough to keep me warm anymore. The temperature dropped last night and hasn’t come back up. If I turn the car on, so I have heat, I’ll have no gas. If it snows for long, I’m screwed. I sit up and rub my hands over my arms and crawl into the front seat. It’s a little early, but I don’t care. It’s too cold.

I turn the engine and start the car, letting it warm the space while I tame my hair into twin braids and thank God for the stupid uniform and hat. It hides rumpled hair and clothes. The thing is polyester and incapable of holding a wrinkle. To cover the fact that I’ve not washed it in a couple of days, I sprayed the crap out of it with body mist. That’s what Celyn smelled the other day. I keep waiting for him to figure it out. I’ll die of shame when he does. Same thing with Tinselly. It’s only a matter of time with the two of them.

After I’m all set, I pull out of the little cul-de-sac and crawl along on the icy roads until I make it to the hut. Shivering, I rush across the parking lot and pull on the door. It’s locked. That’s weird. Celyn is usually here before me. I race back over to my car and debate turning it on again. It’s so cold, but I don’t want to waste gas. I’ve been trying to save my money for the deposit on an apartment. I can’t afford it, so I sit there, shivering. I glance at the mall in front of me. Sears is open for early Christmas shoppers. There’s a display in the window that’s calling to me.

I don’t like going inside in my Swiss Miss costume, but I’ve gotten used to it by now. Most of the mall employees know us now. Shannon saw to that. The guy knows everyone because he stops and talks to every person with a face. Literally. He stops and chats them up, then goes to the next person. It’s why a twenty-minute break turns into two hours. Celyn doesn’t say much about it because he thinks it’s helping us meet goal, but I’m not sure if it has anything to do with Shannon. It’s all Celyn.

I haven’t Googled Celyn. I don’t want to. The guy is nearly twice my age and whatever I find will taint how I see him. Maybe I’m naïve, but it’s not like we’re dating—or sleeping together—so I’ll leave good enough alone. I pull into a parking spot close to the door and sigh happily that it’s getting close enough to Christmas that corporate decided to open this location at 6:00am. They’re insane. No one is here, except me. I’m not complaining though. I see exactly what I want and it’s a price that won’t break me. Actually, it could save me some cash if I don’t have to go to a motel when it gets colder at night. I rush inside, make my purchases, and when I duck back into my car, I can see the McLaren by the Hottie Hut.

I grab my bag of loot and head to the hut. When I yank the door open, Celyn is sitting there, on one of those stools with his head in his hands, eyes downcast, his fingers pulling his hair. “What’s wrong?” I shouldn’t ask, because he’s my boss. Because it’s none of my business. Because I’m falling for him and if I know, I’ll want to know more—I’ll want to fix it.

Celyn looks over at me as if he hasn’t slept. “Nothing.” He stands, puts the stool away, and starts to pull out the coffee grinder.

I don’t know how to play this –push him or leave it alone. I shoot for the middle. “If I can help with anything, you know I will. Christmas shopping for your dog, spreadsheets for the Hut, you name it—I’ve got mad skills.” He doesn’t smile or look over at me. He seems weary, burdened. “I went into Sears a second ago and bought a new heater for my car. Wanna see?”

Celyn turns, his long lashes lowered, and when he lifts his gaze to my big bag I pull out a fuzzy white blanket. “Tah dah!”

He smiles and a small laugh escapes his lips. He touches the fabric, smoothing his hand over the blanket. “That’s soft. How many Muppets did Sears have to kill to make it? You know I’m adverse to marionette cruelty.”

“Oh, I know, which is why this is real fake fur. No animals, fake or real, were harmed in the making of this super fuzzy blanket. And look,” I reach into the bag and pull out the next item, “Matching socks!”

Celyn laughs and takes the socks from me. When his eyes meet mine, I smile softly at him. “I could get you a pair. They’re bitchin’.”

“Bitchin’?”

“Yeah, well, as far as socks go.” He’s still not acting like himself. “Celyn, what’s wrong? It looks like your best friend just died. Quin’s okay, right?” Quin’s been acting damn weird lately, skittish almost.

He looks past me, outside at the parking lot. “We’re going to miss goal. I was up doing the projections last night. I didn’t sleep.” He releases a long, slow breath through his nose.

“Like completely miss it? Or scrape it?” I ask carefully.

He glances up at me. “It was going to be close, but with the weather they’re predicting—there’s no way.” He watches me, those blue eyes drinking me in like he might never see me again. The hairs on my arms rise slightly.

I put a hand on his shoulder because I think he needs a hug, but that would be totally inappropriate. He and I have been stuck in this spot of easy friendship, exes, and when you add in work—it’s just a clusterfuck. I don’t know what we are and I don’t really care if I can’t label it. I still want to make him feel better, so I push, “Talk to me. How much are we going to miss by? What are the repercussions?”

He pulls away from me and says nothing. I glance around and notice that there aren’t any carafes brewing. The scent of coffee doesn’t fill the shack.

“Celyn, what are you doing?” I see it now. He wasn’t here to open this morning, he’s closing the Hut. There are no freshly ground beans, the empty syrup bottles weren’t replaced. I pull open the little fridge and there’s no milk or cream. “Celyn.” I say his name once, my eyes wide, when I turn back to him. “You’re quitting?” Something inside me curdles and I can’t hide my disappointment.

“It’s not quitting.” He stares blankly and runs both hands over the top of his head. “I know when I’ve lost, Nova.”

“Lost what?” He won’t look at me. “Celyn, tell me what’s going on.” I grab his arm and pull him so he turns to face me. My voice is soft, careful. “I can help you.”

His crystal eyes are framed by dark hair that’s fallen forward. “It’s more complicated than you realize.”

I gesture toward the parking lot, “I suspected that this,” I gesture to the shack with a swirl of my finger, “was an odd situation when I saw your car. It’s worth more than the hut and everything in it. By a lot.”

Celyn nods. “Right, it is.” He leans on the windowsill and then his eyes cut back toward me. “I made a bet and I lost. This shack was part of the bet.”

I don’t know what’s happening. The words blindside me so badly that my lips quiver. I’m going to lose my job. If he closes this shack, I’ll have no income at all. Living in my car won’t be an option. I’ll have to sell it, along with my phone, and everything I have to try and feed myself. My gut twists as a wave of nausea hits me hard. This place separates me from destruction and to him…it was a bet.

After the anger simmers down a bit, I finally manage, “Explain.”

He remains on the stool, his gaze locked on the floor. He pushes his hair back and runs his hand down his neck, explaining, “This entire setup was a joke, Nova. It shouldn’t have made it this far.”