More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (7 page)

Mia didn’t look happy about that, but Liz didn’t give her the chance to protest. She went over and found a booth. With the book opened, she sighed. If only she could believe all that I’m fine stuff as easily as Mia had.

“Come on, concentrate, Liz. This is important.”

The television wasn’t doing anything for him anymore. His mind was racing on past the storyline, spinning different much more interesting stories, going in ten directions at once. It was about to drive him crazy. He needed to take a walk, to get out and get some air. To do something.

Truth was, he was beginning to worry about himself though he couldn’t put that into words exactly. It was just this feeling that he had jumped the rails and was on no good path that he wanted to be on. He wanted alcohol more than the next breath, and that was never a good sign. He grabbed his coat from the rack, slipped on his shoes, got his key and stepped out. There was no use of bringing the computer. He’d given up on that dream anyway. He wasn’t a writer. How he had ever convinced himself of that silliness, he had no idea.

Stuffing his hands in his coat pockets though it was hardly cold, he trudged from the alley into the soft neon lights that blended together in comforting ways. Lights. Colors. He’d always felt more comfortable in them. He could almost hear the melodies they sang when they mixed and twined and twisted together. He’d never told anyone about that. It seemed even weirder than he normally was, and people had shown him in vivid emotional colors that who he had shown them he was was already not normal.

Strangely though, it was normal for him. Why he couldn’t get anyone else to understand that, he’d never quite grasped. He just walked, not really going anywhere, liking the feel of moving, of being, even if he was invisible to everyone else on the planet. Once again he considered going to find a bar, but he beat that idea down into its little dark hole and snapped the box shut. Thinking about it was always the first step to doing it, so he had learned how not to think about it. Or at least how to stop thinking about it when it came up.

He sighed. If he could just stop being him, everything would be great. He let his mind consider that— what it would be like to not be himself. Who he would be if he was normal. What he might have done with his life. Where he might have gone. On his fingers plus ten, he counted up how many years it had been since high school, must be 13 or 14 at least. He thought about the GED he’d always thought about getting but never quite had. Yes, added to the long list of other failures in his life was dropping out of school in eleventh grade.

His father at the time thought it was the best plan ever; his mother had grieved for another five years, until seeing them just got too hard. He hadn’t been back since. They probably thought he was dead by now, and in a way they were right. He wasn’t alive. Not really. Just walking around in a shell of a life that didn’t even make sense to him.

At that moment he stopped short on the sidewalk, realizing he was standing right where he had stood with her, under the marquee. He looked up at it, knowing to the center of him that what he had done to her was not fair. She probably thought him a jerk or worse, and he probably was that at the very least for even thinking about the fact that she was three storefronts down and how easy it would be to walk down there and see her. But that wouldn’t be fair. She had no doubt gone on with her life.

However, his feet never moved, not even a step to turn around and go back where he had come. His hands jammed harder into his pockets, trying to get him going again, but it wasn’t working. He looked down the block to the little neon sign jutting out from the building. The Grind. The sigh took every ounce of energy he had left. “Don’t, Jake. You’re being an idiot. Just let it go.”

Unfortunately his whole being was now riveted to that sign and the promise it held. Would it really hurt to just go say hi? Sure, he was too much of an emotional klutz to make a real relationship with her work, but was it a crime to be friendly? Shaking his head that he was going to do this, he started that direction. Every single step was a struggle. It was like he was having a tug-of-war with himself, and even as he thought it, the picture was right there in his mind— him on one side of the rope and him on the other side, the puddle of mud in the middle. It was a good and sure bet he was going to end up in that mud one way or the other. He might as well have a moment of peace before he landed there.

Pulling the door open, he heard the bells and felt the gush of air. The aroma nearly knocked him backward. It was strong. Pungent. Perfect. A soft smile crept onto his face and slid into his heart. Why had he stayed away for so long?

Liz was busy restocking the cups, taking them from the back to the front when she looked up and caught sight of him walking through the shop. She nearly dropped the cups. They jumped from her hands, but she caught them at the last possible second. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. But he was headed to the back, to his corner, in that coat. Dark hair, hunched shoulders. It was him. Jake. It had to be. Her breath yanked up into her throat, and she thought she might choke as the cups wobbled again.

Willing herself to calm down, she replaced them under the counter, glad that Mia had taken off early. It was only fifteen minutes to closing anyway, and closing up alone had sounded like a very good idea until this moment. She stood and brushed her hair back as she watched him without watching. He sat down and grabbed a menu, never even looking over to her. That’s when she realized he didn’t have the computer. That was strange. He always had the computer. Always.

Her whole being went into analyzing and freaking out mode. “Oh, God, help.” She smoothed her apron over her stomach, wishing she had thought to do something cute with her hair. She hadn’t. And her clothes weren’t any better. The spinning of her head twirled away from her grasp. What was she going to do now?

She forced a long, deep breath into her lungs and carefully went around the counter. “Just get him some coffee, Liz. You can do this.” At his table, she dragged the brightest smile she could find onto her face. “Hi, there.”

He looked up, and she couldn’t read the words that went through his eyes. “Hi.”

“Um.” Pulling up to her toes like a five-year-old, she fought not to lose it. “Can I get you something?”

“Coffee. Black.” He put the menu back, his soft blue eyes never quite making it all the way up to hers.

She nodded. “Got it.” As she went back to the counter, she had the oddest feeling of being under a microscope. “Be cool, Liz. He’s not here to see you, just to get some coffee.” Okay, so it was almost eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night, but he was here, and he had ordered coffee. What else could that mean?

Jake couldn’t do it. Not like this. This was all wrong. He didn’t know how to right it, but he had to try. Getting up from the table, he slid the little chair in. The shop was empty, save for the soft yellow light and the jazz playing as it always did. He went over to the counter as she worked behind it getting his cup and some coffee. Leaning with his elbows on it though he didn’t sit down, his mind spun through how to get her attention and what to say when he did. “Hm. Um, Liz?”

She spun, making the coffeepot wobble dangerously in her hand. The black liquid sloshed this way and that. “Oh!”  Her smile was short and followed by a look of worry that burrowed into his soul. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” He opened his hands and fought to smile. “I just… um…”  His gaze fell to the counter. Man, he was bad at this. “Um.” He pulled his gaze up to meet her startled worried one. “I just… I wanted to apologize for the other night.”

“Oh. Y-yeah.” She swiped her hand through the air as if brushing that away. “It’s fine. I mean I know you got suckered into that one.” Her gaze was on the coffee she was now pouring in front of him. “No biggie.”

His heart hurt for her as only now did he sense how much he had hurt her by walking away like that. “No, Liz. Really. Seriously. That was all wrong. I’m just…”   When she finished pouring, he spun the cup handle as if he was going to pick it up, but he didn’t. “I’m not very good with things like that, being out and stuff, but I wanted you to know it totally wasn’t you. It was me. I just… I wanted you to know that.”

Her shoulders dropped an inch, which he took to mean she was unwinding. “It’s okay. We can’t all be great at everything.”

Anything. He would take being great at anything, but he didn’t say that. “I really did have a good time though. It was fun.” This time he did take a drink, and it didn’t even bother him that she was watching.

She nodded and dropped her gaze to the towel hanging on her apron. “Well, I’m glad. I did too.” A breath and she looked up. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about what you said, about the whole characterization thing.”

“Really?” He slid onto a stool and took another sip.

“Yeah. You were right. I mean, he could have gotten those plans to someone else. It’s not like the whole FBI is crooked. And I got to thinking about how Henderson kept knowing where he was all the time. The only one who knew that unless they had some kind of tracking device on him was Anna. Maybe she was in league with Henderson too.”

“Hm.” Jake hadn’t considered that, but it almost made sense. “Could be.”

The conversation lagged for a second, and then she looked over at him again. He loved those eyes. “So, no computer tonight? You taking a shape-shifting break or what?”

Jake set the cup onto the counter very carefully so he wouldn’t spill it. He shrugged. “I’ve kind of given up on the whole shape-shifting thing. For now anyway. It’s just not happening.”

“Oh, really? Why not?” Liz set about wiping down the counter, but she didn’t really leave.

He felt the connection locking between them, and it sent panic into his soul. “Oh, I don’t know. Just time to face reality, I guess.”

Her gaze snapped to him and held. “Which is?”

More panic flooded him. She wasn’t really standing there asking that. He was just supposed to apologize and then leave. That was the plan, if there was one. So that meant this was all a dream. It had to be. That was it. He had fallen asleep in the recliner, and he was going to wake up at any moment. But now she was coming back toward him, her gaze asking questions he couldn’t answer. Words spun away from him. “I don’t know. Just that… I guess I see I’m kidding myself about going anywhere other than where I am.”

She was back, right in front of him now, and her gaze was lasering holes into his skull. “And where are you?”

He dragged in a breath for courage and glanced up at her as the feeling dropped onto his spirit. “Stuck.”

“Uh-huh.” She suddenly looked very serious. However, instead of coming closer, she backed up, pitched the towel to the side, leaned on the back counter, and folded her arms. “Mind explaining that?”

Jake scratched the back of his head. “Stuck? The story of my life I think. It seems like I find something I really like to do, but there just comes a point when… when I can’t make it work, and I just…”

“Quit,” she said with authority.

That was the right word but not the right feeling.

“Get realistic,” he supplied instead. “I mean it all sounds so good when I start, you know? And then when I’m trying and trying and it’s not working, I just…” He let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I guess it’s better to accept your limitations.”

Her gaze got even hotter, burrowing deeper. “Mind enumerating those limitations?”

Did she know what she was asking? Surely she didn’t. In self-defense, he laughed and pushed himself up. “Trust me, the list is long and very, very depressing.”

It was supposed to throw her off from hunting, but it didn’t.

“Well, okay, then what’s one thing?”

“One thing?” he asked as if he didn’t understand exactly what she was asking.

“Name one limitation that’s keeping you stuck.”

Had she asked for the whole list, he would have had some smart aleck comeback. But one, he could surely come up with one. Surveying the list, he chose the easiest to admit. “Well, I hate my job for one.”

“Okay.” She nodded in a way that said
keep going
.

“Yeah.” He dropped his gaze to his cup and shook his head. “I work on the docks. Forklift five.”

She was still nodding, still encouraging him to not stop.

“I don’t know. It’s just so pointless sometimes. Move this over here. Move that it over there. It gets old.”

“And what about not work? What do you do then?”

He didn’t want to tell her, with everything in him, he wanted to say he was James Bond on his days off. His gaze only made a glancing connection with hers. “Watch television. Drink coffee. Sit at home and stare at the ceiling. Pretty exciting, huh?”

Liz scratched her ear, and he knew there were more questions coming. “But what about that whole shape-shifting thing? You know, whatever you’re doing on that computer of yours.”

“Oh, that.” He laughed again, a sad, hollow kind of sound, but he said no more. He couldn’t. It hurt too badly.

“Yeah that.” She was advancing on him again, coming toward him, right to the counter where she stopped and slid her forearms, wrists, and elbows all the way onto it so that she was looking up at him rather than down. “What’s up with that?”

Jake had never felt so cornered though he had the whole restaurant with which to escape. “It’s nothing. Really. Just something to keep me from jumping off a bridge somewhere.”