Page 2 of Still Missing You

I’d had bruises on me too the night I’d found my way here after some asshole had robbed me of everything I owned and then tried to throw me into his trunk. I’d managed to break free and then stayed hidden in the woods until I was sure he’d gone. Ten years later and the world is still filled with predatory assholes. To be fair, I don’t know how the kid got the bruises, and I might be projecting just a tad, but I can safely assume someone had done that to him, and, judging by the way he keeps looking back at the door, he’s afraid of that someone finding him now.

“I can pay for my own coffee.” He’s frowning, and I’m not sure if my offer offended him.

I shake my head. “I’m about to close up. I’d have dumped it down the sink, anyway.”

His dark brows arched, nearly lost beneath the damp hair tumbling across his forehead. “Oh... sorry... I didn’t realize... I can go.” He jerks his thumb towards the door, but I shake my head.

“Nah, you’re fine. Normally, I’d be open until eight, but with the weather...” I shrug. “I didn’t think anyone would be coming in tonight. How do you take it?”

“Black is fine.”

“Maybe, but you know you’re in a café.” I wave my hand like a game show hostess. “Milk, cream, sugar, sweetener, we have it all. Hell, I could have made you something fancier. It’s kind of what we do.”

His mouth twitches as if he’s trying not to smile. “Cream.”

“Coming up.” I take a carton of cream from the mini-fridge behind me and set it next to the mug. Normally, I would have doctored the coffee before giving it to a customer, but there’s nothing normal about tonight. “I’m Dylan, by the way.”

“Matthew,” he says without meeting my gaze. He concentrates on pouring a generous splash of cream, then carefully sinks into the chair at a table near the door, wrapping both hands around the mug to warm them.

He must be freezing in those clothes. I grab a couple of clean dish towels from a drawer and bring them to him, setting them on the table. “Here. I know they’re not ideal, but they’re better than nothing.”

“Thanks.” He casts a surreptitious glance at the door before patting his face with one of the towels.

“I can lock it if you want.” Honestly, I would have done it before, but I didn’t want to spook him.

Color floods his cheeks, and he looks down at his coffee. “It’s fine.”

I don’t believe him. Whatever he’s running from, whatever has him literally looking over his shoulder, is anything but fine.

“I should have probably taken this to go,” he says almost to himself, frowning in consternation.

“Are you driving?” I ask. “I didn’t see a car.”

“I parked in the public lot a few blocks away.”

I’m about to ask if he didn’t realize there was street parking out front when I make the connection. If someone’s following him, he wouldn’t want them to see his car and know exactly where he was. Of course, I’m not sure how much good it’s really doing him. I’m most likely the only place still open. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out by a process of elimination.

“Do you have far to drive?”

“Um... I don’t... I’m not sure.” His gaze slides away, and his frown deepens. Then he looks up and meets my eyes once more. “Do you know if there’s a hotel around here?”

It’s weird watching history repeat itself in real time, only this time, I’m on the other side. Before, I’d been running with nowhere to go, and it had been George behind the counter. Did I look as lost and unsure as Matthew did now? Is that why George had offered to help me? Or was it simply because he was a fundamentally good person? Probably both.

He’s been gone three years, and my chest still aches when I think about him. He’d been more of a father to me than the man who’d contributed to my genetics had ever been. I’m not nearly as good a man as he was, but I could try. I could pay it forward.

“There is, but I think I can offer you something better.”

Matthew’s expression hardens, and he pushes back from the table. “I bet.”

For a second, I blink, stupidly, trying to work out why the kid turned hostile and looks ready to bolt, then realization hits me like a truck. My face burns, and I hold up both hands. “I don’t know what you think... well, I do think I know... no... not that,” I sputter, trying to string together something coherent. “I’m not asking for anything. Anything. I just... there’s an apartment upstairs.” I point to the ceiling. “I’m between tenants, so it’s sitting there empty. It’s furnished—nothing fancy, but you’re welcome to stay there.”

He’s still eyeing me suspiciously. “You don’t live there?”

I shake my head. “I have a place a little outside town. Like I said, I normally rent the apartment, but Kelley started university back in January, and I haven’t gotten around to finding someone new. There’s even parking out back where no one would see your car.”

“You’d let me stay there.” He shakes his head as if my words don’t make sense. “Man, you don’t even know me.”

I have to bite back the bitter laugh bubbling up my throat. Kid, I know you better than you think.