8. Elsie

CHAPTER 8

Elsie

“ E llie!” I lock the door to my coffee shop before turning to give Dean a smile that I doubt reaches my tired, sore eyes—not that he will notice. Dean, as usual, has his eyes set firmly on my chest. I’m just not in the mood for his shit today.

Today is a bad day and I don’t have it in me to be the carefree Ellie that the town expects from me. One day a year I need to be left alone, and that’s today. The anniversary of David’s death. Today is the day I close up shop, go eat the biggest burrito I can—David’s favorite food—and sit at his grave and cry until I go numb. Once I’m numb, I go home and watch his favorite movie on repeat while I try to force all the feelings out before I have to put my happy mask back on.

“Hey, Dean,” I say softly while stuffing my cold hands in my pockets. “Shop’s closed today, sorry.”

“Oh no, actually I’m not a big fan of the coffee you have.” He laughs lightly. “I think I just prefer my own at home.” You’re supposed to give him a light laugh and smile, Elsie.

“Oh.” I crack on the laugh. “Well, sorry about that.” Dean’s face falls.

“What? No, it was a joke. I’m sorry, it didn’t deliver right. Fuck.” He rubs the back of his head and I close my eyes and inhale deeply while placing the mask back on even though I would rather die.

“No! Sorry, I’m a little scattered today!” I giggle as I force the brightness in my eyes and voice that is expected of me. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I wanted to see if you wanted to grab some lunch?” Oh God, a date.

“Oh,” I trail off and wince at the rejection on his face. “Uhm… Yeah sure–okay! What were you thinking?”

“I know a place that makes killer loaded cheese fries.” Cheese fries. Oh my God… Cheese fries and an orgasm. This is so embarrassing.

Giving him an uncomfortable smile, I shrug slightly as my hands squeeze around something in my coat pocket. “Uh, sure,” I say softly while pulling the items out. Gloves. Grant’s gloves.

“Awesome! Come on, my car is across the street.” I look at the gloves again before stuffing them back into my pocket and forcing a smile despite wanting to cry.

I should just tell him no. I don’t want to go out with him today, tomorrow or ever. But all I can think about is Grant telling me it was a mistake to kiss me. That we are a mistake. I don’t want to feel like a mistake anymore, I want to be someone’s choice.

I f Dean “bumps” into my knee one more time I’m going to murder him. I’m so annoyed by his behavior. I mean, I’m not shocked by his behavior but I’m also not in the mood today to be touched, and apparently he isn’t picking up on my cues, or listening when I say to stop. I know he obviously asked me on a date, so it’s expected to flirt and have closeness. But right now, I want to shove his face into these terrible cheese fries and walk out.

“So, why a coffee shop?” he asks as he sips his beer.

“People like coffee and there was no coffee shop in town,” I mutter while picking at a fry on my plate.

“Oh, so it’s not like a passion or anything?” I raise a brow while looking up at him.

“Am I passionate about serving Northbrook their coffee? No. It’s a job.” Dean shifts uncomfortably and I sigh loudly. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It’s a bad day. You don’t deserve my wrath.”

Dean seems to relax and gives me an easy smile. “I’m sorry you’re having a bad day, you wanna talk about it?” I wrinkle my nose and shake my head.

“Long story short, it’s the anniversary of my brother’s passing.” He gives me a small nod while sipping his beer again.

“I’m sorry, yeah, I can understand why you wouldn’t be in the best mood.” A small smirk creeps onto his face and I feel a firm hand on my knee. “Maybe I could take your mind off of it?” he says suggestively and I rear back. Is he serious?

“Are you… propositioning me after I told you it’s the anniversary of my brother’s death?”

Dean shrugs as he leans back and takes another drink of beer. “It’s not like he died today. It’s been a year? Two?”

“Six,” I snap and he chuckles.

“Six years and it’s still bad enough that you’re this broken? Have you tried therapy or something?” I stare down at my drink while trying to hold back a shitty remark.

“Been there for six years,” I mutter and Dean laughs.

“Maybe a new therapist or some anti-depressants. I mean, you can’t just live in the past.”

“So, because I don’t want to fuck you I must be living in the past? I’m grieving my brother, you know nothing about him, or me. God, this was such a mistake,” I growl while standing up to leave.

“Yeah, I’ll say. Jesus, I’ve never worked so hard for a fuck in my life. I’ve been flirting with you for days now and I take you out to eat and, what? Your brother died six years ago and it’s still too soon? I mean, you’re cute and all but there’s no way you’re worth all this drama. Limpin’ Grant can have you.” I feel prickles on the back of my neck as I glare at Dean while he stands up.

“What did you call him?” I say slowly as I feel my rage reach a dangerous level.

“Limpin’ Grant. Because of his peg le—” There’s a high-pitched whine and my world goes bright white, causing everyone and everything to disappear. I can tolerate a lot. You can take cracks at me, take advantage of my kindness—whatever, I’ll allow it. But no one talks bad about Grant in my presence. Absolutely fucking no one.