Starless Nights (Hale Brothers Series Book 2) (3 page)

A LOUD NOISE coming from the outside startles me awake. I’m on the floor next to the bed, completely tangled up in the sheets. Sitting up, I look around the room. Sweat covers me from head to toe and my eyes are swollen and blurry from tears. My heart is racing erratically. The smell of smoke lingers in my nose, I can still feel his eyes boring into me, and this fear causes my already nauseated stomach to turn over.

Stumbling out of the sheets, I rush to the bathroom and my stomach empties.

Of all the dreams that I have had over the years, this one is the worst. At least twice a month it makes an appearance leaving me rocked for days. Sitting on the floor next to the toilet, I stretch my arm across the seat and lay my head down.

Listening to the sounds of the night, I try to clear my head of his laughter, the screaming, and Leila saying to forget her. With my eyes squeezed shut, my heart frowns. Leila’s letter quickly flashes through my mind. I’ll never understand why she thought I could ever forget her.

A garbage truck outside in the alley drops its dumpster and the noise breaks me from my thoughts. In the distance I can hear the beeping from delivery trucks as they back into local retailers, and a few car horns blaring throughout the surrounding streets. I welcome the distractions.

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.

I look up and at the window. Shining in are the neon lights from the sign of the jazz bar across the street.

There are no stars.

That’s right, I remind myself once again. I’m in my loft in New York City. He’s not here. He’s in jail and has been for the last fourteen months. Nothing is going to happen to me. There is no fire. I am safe, I am fine, and so are the people that I love.

Getting up off of the floor, I brace myself against the counter as I stare back at the reflection looking at me. I barely recognize myself anymore. Splashing water on my face, I try and rub away the exhaustion that seems to have permanently taken up residence under my eyes. I brush my teeth and look over at the clock, the time reads out four forty-five. There is no way I’m going to be able to go back to sleep. I may as well just get up and get out.

I throw on a pair of gym shorts, a T-shirt, a Salt Life pullover, a pair of flip flops, and a baseball hat. I have plans this morning to get a few sets in with Nate, so I shove a change of clothes into a backpack along with my racket.

Looking across the open space of my loft that makes up the kitchen, dining room, and living room, I see that Matt is still curled up on the bed of the pull-out couch. I’m thankful that this morning’s episode didn’t wake him—it has in the past.

On the refrigerator there’s a dry erase board. I leave him a quick note letting him know that I’ll be back for lunch. Grabbing the brown leather bound notebook off of my desk, along with my wallet, phone, and keys, I quietly sneak out of the loft.

A couple of days ago, I noticed a local coffee shop around the block. Surely it must open at five.

Locking my door, I skip down the five flights of steps to the front door of my brownstone walk up. Outside the air is slightly humid and today the mixture in the air is one of fresh bread and chocolate. Drew never understood why I picked this neighborhood to move into, but waking up every day to different delicious smells is just one of the reasons.

Greenwich Village to me feels like home. I know that I probably should live closer to campus, but hey, that’s what the subway is for. I love the uniqueness of the stores, the many different flavors of food from around the world, and the eclectic crowd of people that live and move through this neighborhood daily.

Leaving behind my mother in Florida was bittersweet but for years I have wanted to escape that house, and now that I am here, I miss it. Well, I miss her. I can only imagine how much worse this feeling will be once Matt leaves.

School doesn’t start until next month, but I decided to head on up here July first. My brother Drew is planning a birthday party out in the West Hamptons for him and his girlfriend Ali. I know for a fact that both of them would get their feelings hurt and be hugely disappointed if I didn’t come.

Stopping in front of the coffee shop, The Grind, it looks empty but the lights are on. I push through the door and a bell chimes letting them know that I’ve walked in. I pick a large leather lounge chair by the front window and sit down. This place reminds me a lot of Aunt Ella’s cafe back home, Beachside Café, but this one definitely fits its location.

Looking around, one wall is covered with signed photographs of famous people that have been in the café, and the other is covered with what I assume are local paintings that are for sale.

Placing my notebook on the little table next to the chair, I lean forward resting my elbows on my knees. That nightmare has been coming more frequently over the last couple of months and this time it has left me completely drained and more uncomfortable than usual. I should probably talk to someone about them. I know that they aren’t normal, but if I do, I know that I’ll have to relive so many moments that I’m trying to forget.

Pulling my hat down a little lower, I reach and rub the back of my neck, while letting out a deep sigh.

EVERY MORNING, AT ten minutes until five, I unlock the door and walk into the café. Most people say that they can’t function in the morning until they have had their cup of coffee. For me, I don’t feel fully awake until I take in a breath and smell the aroma that makes up this unique and friendly place. It’s how I start my day and I love it.

Talk about being at the right place at the right time. One day early last fall, I was walking home from school when I decided that today was the day for me to stop in and grab a latte. I had been passing by this little café for weeks and really, for no reason at all, I hadn’t previously stopped by.

When I pushed through the door, heard the bell above me, and took one look around, I was spellbound.

I love my Aunt Ella’s café back down in Florida on the island. It has a quaint charm that can only be found on the beach. The colors are calming, the furniture is shabby, and there is no way to completely remove all of the sand off of the floor. It has its share of current regulars, but mostly it’s filled daily with tourists and travelers from all over the world.

This little café here in the city seems to be the opposite. It is a neighborhood café and is most likely filled with more long time loyal patrons than passerbys. The overall décor is dark. It feels inviting and warm. The walls are brick, the tables are wood, and there is a heavy farm table type countertop bar that runs down one side of the café, across the back, and up the other side. There are high back chairs strategically placed as well as outlets for electronics.

Across the floor of the café, there are a few tables and then there are large leather lounge chairs set up for individuals for groups of customers. Heavy drapes pool on floor next to the front windows and across the back are chalkboard signs that list the menu and daily specials. The walls are stylishly decorated and I knew in that minute, I was in love.

I approached a woman at the counter in the back to order the latte and that’s when I overheard her say that someone had just quit and now she would need to find a new opener. Without even thinking twice I said, “I’ll do it.” She paused midsentence, gave me a once over, and told the person on the other end of the line that she would have to call them back.

“You want to open the café daily? Are you sure?” Her look was filled with skepticism.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Have you even worked in a café before?” I couldn’t help the smile that split across my face.

“As a matter of fact I have. My aunt owns a café back in Florida where I am from. I worked there for years.”

“Hmmm. Are you a student?”

“Yes, over at Parson’s.” I could see the wheels turning in her head.

“The hours are weekdays, four fifty a.m. to ten a.m.”

“How about nine thirty-five so I can get to class on time and then I can make it up on the weekends, if I’m needed.”

She hesitated and gave me another once over, while making her decision. I rocked up on my toes in excitement.

“Well alright then, if it sounds good to you, it sounds good to me. Let’s give this a shot.” I couldn’t believe that I had landed a job, just like that. I ordered the latte and then spent the next four hours learning all about the café.

This morning, I had just unlocked the doors, started the coffee maker, and gone into the back to pull out some fresh muffins that were made the night before when I heard the bell sound over the door. Most mornings the crowd starts to wander in around five thirty so I am a little surprised that someone is here so early.

I push through the saloon doors into café and spot the customer sitting in one of the leather chairs up front by the window. My body reacts before my mind does and I freeze mid step. My heart crashes into my chest, my hands start sweating, and I am certain that my eyes are playing a trick on me. There is no way that of all the cafes in the city, he would walk into mine. It’s just not possible. But there he is looking almost like I remember him.

Ali, my best friend, must have told him that I work here. I’m going to kill her.

Instead of walking over to greet him, I stare at him. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen him and all of a sudden, all that time diminishes and it feels like it was just yesterday. I didn’t even know that he was here in the city. Ali never told me. I had just assumed that he would be coming up sometime later in July. I feel as if my world has just been thrown on a tilt. I wasn’t prepared to see him.

The morning sun hasn’t started to rise yet, so the windows behind him only serve as a dark backdrop, and the light shining down from above him has placed him in a spotlight like glow. If I was a photographer, I feel that this could be a beautiful photo. As it is, I have just taken a mental picture and will now forever see him sitting in that chair.

If I didn’t know any better, from where I am standing, I would say that he is bigger, taller. His legs are slightly stretched out in front of him and they seem so long. His arms and chest are broader and thicker, and his hair is a little on the long side as it curls out from underneath his baseball hat.

Every single part of me inside is screaming. It is screaming at me to go over and hug him, it is screaming at me to demand answers, and it is screaming at me to show him indifference and act as if he doesn’t even matter.

The problem though with that last thought is . . . he does.

Ali had mentioned a while back ago that he was considering Columbia with Drew, but then she never mentioned it again.

In my mind I have imagined over and over that moment where we would see each other again. I imagined the things that I would say and the things that I would ask him. I would be strong and in control. I would let him know that he no longer has any pull over me, and that I am done. Only, in this little scenario, I never imagined the when and where. Now that it’s here, that conversation feels all wrong.

Slowly, I make my way over to him. He doesn’t look up at me. He’s leaning forward and rubbing the back of his neck.

“What are you doing here?” Beau’s hand stops moving on his neck and he pauses. Slowly, his head turns up, and his eyes lock onto mine.

“Leila . . . ,” he says in a shocked whisper. He gracefully rises and I can see that he did, in fact, get taller. Neither one of us says anything. We just continue to stare at each other as if we are in a standoff. I can’t help but to notice the dark circles under his eyes. He looks so tired, almost like he hasn’t been sleeping.

“Beau, what are you doing here?” I ask him again. I meant for this to come out a little more forceful, but instead it sounded weak.

My emotions are all over the place. I’m nervous, I’m angry, and there are butterflies in my stomach. I feel calm for the first time in a long time, but yet at the same time, I’m heartbroken. It’s this last emotion that I focus on because he has done what no one else has ever done and that is break my heart over and over again.

“I came in to get a cup of coffee. What are you doing here?” I can feel my eyebrows as they furrow down. Maybe Ali didn’t tell him and he didn’t know that I work here.

“I work here.” He runs his hand across his jaw, which is covered in light stubble. He looks so handsome.

“Why?” What does he mean why? And why does he look so stunned that I would work in a coffee shop? It’s not that different from Aunt Ella’s.

“Why else? I need a job.”

“Oh,” he says looking at me like he’s confused. “Didn’t you get a scholarship?”

How is this any of his business? “Yes, I did.” Hopefully my tone lets him know that this conversation is closed.

My eyes drift down and I look him over again. I hate to admit this but to me he looks like home. This last year has been hard and I didn’t realize how much I have been missing home until lately. I glance over at the side table and see his phone, keys, and a brown leather notebook. I instantly recognize the notebook and he sees my reaction the minute that I do. Both of us reach for it. He gets there first and quickly picks it up, shoving it behind his back.