Page 16 of Cinder
“Denial,” Fletch says easily. “Big theme for you today.”
Beck, who had a meeting with Chief Rhodes as soon as we got back to the station, steps back into the bay.
“Good work out there, boys.”
“Thanks, Cap.” Fletch straightens slightly. “We preserved the spirit of the shortbread.”
Beck ignores him, already turning back toward the door. “Go grab coffees from Flora’s. And something to eat that isn’t out of the vending machine.”
Fletch hops down from the bench in seconds. “Say less.”
I make my way back to the truck without thinking too hard about it. Coffee and food are exactly what I need right now, then I’ll get back to figuring everything else out.
It’s busy in Flora’s once we get there, the noise drowning out the chiming bell over the door as we step in.
Warmth hits me, along with the smell of coffee and something freshly baked that hasn’t been anywhere near a sprinkler system.
“About time,” the owner, Rose Potts, calls from behind the counter. “I was starting to think you lot had finally learned how to make decent coffee on your own.”
“Don’t spread lies like that, Rosie,” Fletch says, already drifting toward the counter to line up. “You know we’re dependent.”
“That much is obvious.”
Fletch leans in slightly to look past the person in front of us. “If they’re out of cinnamon buns again, I’m walking.”
“You won’t walk,” Colt scoffs.
“I might.”
I let them carry on, my attention drifting past them and catching on a streak of blue in front of Fletch.
She’s standing at the counter, menu in hand, halfway through ordering. Her head tips slightly as she reads, pink lips moving under her breath as though she’s talking herself through the options.
“I feel like I should be more decisive about this,” she says to Rose, tapping the edge of the menu. “But I don’t trust myself with baked goods. I make emotional decisions.”
Rose hums like she’s heard it all before.
“I came in here thinking coffee and eggs,” the girl continues, glancing down at the cabinet, “and now I’m looking at something with icing, and I don’t know who I am as a person anymore.”
Rose barks a laugh. “Relatable.”
She laughs too, and it carries just enough to cut through the noise. Light and bright and almost like music. I don’t mean to keep listening, but I do.
Blonde hair falls forward as she leans toward the cabinet, the ends dyed in a blue that catches the light when she moves. Ellewould love it. Would probably demand we stop immediately to tell her how pretty it is.
She bites her lip and exhales, as though she’s making an all-encompassing life decision.
“I’ll regret it in about twelve minutes if I pick something sweet, but that feels like a future-me problem.”
I huff a laugh through my nose before I can stop it.
There’s nothing particularly unusual about her, and yet she doesn’t slot into the room the way everyone else does. She’s new to town, for sure, but there’s something more. Most people move around in cafés like they’re on autopilot. Orders come out before they’re fully spoken, and no one hesitates for long. She does.
“Also, this might be a long shot,” she pauses, “but while I decide how much sugar I need, I’m also looking for work… I can do pretty much anything, and I learn fast. I show up on time, and I’mveryenthusiastic about baked goods, clearly.”
Rose glances up at that, considering her properly for the first time. “I’m so sorry, my dear, I would absolutely love to give you a job—if I had one available. Right now, we’re at capacity.”
“Oh. That’s okay! Do you know of anything else going?”
