Change of Address

by Jordan S. Brock

  It took effort not to lean into Josh’s touch. “Not really,” Michael admitted, closing his eyes. “I stayed in Manchester. Driving was . . . um . . .”

  “Yeah, I get it.” Josh leaned over Kaylee, bracing a hand against the desk, and touched his forehead to Michael’s. “You want me to take you home so you can sleep? I can get a cab back here or something.”

  “No.” Michael almost shook his head, but he didn’t want to push Josh away. “I want to go. I’ll be fine.”

  He was ready for a protest—for Josh getting insistent that he knew what was best for Michael—but it never came. Instead, Josh ducked to give him a quick kiss and said, “Okay. I’ve got to wrap up the breakfast rush, then get started on packing everything. But first, I’ll be right back with Kaylee’s water.” He was gone before Michael could come up with an answer.

  Michael had left his bag in the car—hopefully with the doors locked—but Kaylee was pretty good at drinking from a cup without splashing too much. She scarfed down the bacon in about three seconds, and Michael didn’t take much longer to finish his bagel sandwich. Josh had added chopped onions and sun-dried tomato to the scrambled egg and cheese, giving the sandwich an extra kick of flavor that made his stomach rumble after just one bite. Weeks of eating home cooking and surprisingly good restaurant meals had made Michael lose his immunity to the evils of fast food. Last night’s burger hadn’t sat well with him.

  But despite the excellent coffee, the hot, fresh meal left him feeling drowsy and content. Safe. All he wanted was to close his eyes and relax, immersing himself in the feeling of being home again, but he couldn’t. If nothing else, he’d wreck his back dozing off in the chair.

  “Settle, Kaylee,” he told her, even though she’d sprawled out with her muzzle tucked under the desk. She wagged her tail in acknowledgment but didn’t lift her head as he stepped over her and opened the door as much as her outstretched legs would allow.

  The kitchen was quiet, so Michael let himself out, trusting Kaylee to stay where she was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been separated from her, but he felt no anxiety at all. Bagel End had become a haven for him. A welcome refuge.

  So he was smiling when he walked over to the door that led behind the counter and looked through the window. Josh was way up front by the register with one of his employees, the two of them talking and laughing. The crowd seemed to have died down.

  Michael backed off, wondering if he should sneak out with Kaylee—but to where? If he crossed the kitchen and went up front via the hallway, it’d look like he’d been hiding out in the bathroom or something. If he left through the emergency exit, he might set off an alarm, and he’d definitely look ridiculous. He’d gone into the hallway, after all. The staff would probably all be wondering why he hadn’t come back out.

  Or they might just think they’d missed him in the press of customers earlier. The emergency exit was his best bet, but only after saying good-bye to Josh. Walking out on Josh even once was one time too many.

  But he wasn’t about to go behind the counter. For all he knew, that was a violation of health code rules. Bad enough he had Kaylee in the office.

  I’m thinking of heading home for an hour or so. Anything I can do to help with the catering? He typed out the text, checked and double-checked it, then sent it, watching Josh through the window.

  A few seconds later, Josh pulled his phone out of his pocket. He swiped at it, then looked back at Michael with a grin. He left the register to his employee and headed to the kitchen as if Michael, not work, was his priority.

  “Maybe make it a couple of hours? Think you can take a nap?” Josh asked as soon as the door swung shut behind him. He took Michael’s free hand and laced their fingers together. “You look better, but still . . .”

  “I don’t want to be late.” Michael glanced past Josh, and all three servers behind the counter quickly looked away from the window. Self-consciously, he stepped toward the office, pulling Josh along with him. “A shower should wake me up.”

  “How about,” Josh said, crowding close and wrapping his arms around Michael, “you go home and go right to bed, and I’ll text you maybe a half hour before things really get going? That’ll give you enough time for a quick shower and the drive to the library.”

  Or you could come home with me, Michael thought, though he didn’t say it. Today was a work day for Josh, even if it was also sort of a date. Instead, he countered, “Forty-five minutes, and it’s a deal.”

  Josh gave Michael a kiss that was brief but in no way rushed, leaving Michael’s lips warm and tingling. “Forty-five minutes,” Josh promised. “Now go home. And don’t worry about shaving. Hot, scruffy librarian is a good look on you.”

  At a quarter past one, Josh sent his text: The party starts at two. No need to rush. You need rest. Then he started laying out a spread of deli trays, condiments, and cream cheese, leaving everything covered for now. He used a paper-lined basket to present the halved bagels, carefully stacked to keep the soft insides from going stale in the open air. When he bent down to plug in the slow cookers meant to keep the soup warm, he almost bashed heads with a woman he’d never seen before. “Oh, sorry,” he said, just as she said, “Oops.”

  Only when he straightened up did he realize the table next to his was full of thick paper cups, hot drink sleeves, and two crimson-and-chrome machines with heavy levers, power cords trailing down from them both. “Need to share an outlet?” he asked, finally recognizing them as portable espresso makers. He’d looked into that sort of thing for Bagel End.

  “Got it covered.” She turned to root through a backpack under her table, and came up with a power strip. Flashing Josh a cocky grin, she plugged both of her espresso machines into the power strip, then plugged that into the wall. “Always come prepared.” She offered him the power strip, adding, “I’m Sam, by the way. From Sam’s Caf.”

  “Josh, Bagel End,” he said, accepting the power strip in lieu of a handshake. He’d never heard of Sam’s Caf—which he assumed was a trendy new way of saying “café.” The thought wasn’t entirely comforting. While he could abstractly agree that it was nice to have more businesses on the island, hopefully livening up the town and drawing more tourists, he had plenty of customers who came in for a caffeine fix and ended up leaving with a bagel too.

  “The deli?” she asked with a smile, leaning a hip against the wall to watch him set up the slow cookers instead of getting back to her own table. “I’ve heard you’ve got the best bagels on the island.”

  “To be fair, I’d have to agree,” he said with false modesty. Considering they were the island’s only supplier of bagels, the shop qualified for the “best” and “worst” titles.

  “I love bagels. Trade you for a cup, whatever you’d like,” she offered, taking a step to Josh’s table, putting herself right on the edge of his personal space as he bent to tuck the power cords out of the way.

  She was close enough that his heart—or maybe stomach—gave a little flip of surprise. Was she flirting or just excessively friendly? Out of habit, he gave her a quick once-over. On the tall side, with dark curls cut shoulder length, more curves than were strictly fashionable, and a smile that was barely more welcoming than predatory.

  A month ago, he would’ve tripped over his own feet at the very idea that she was flirting with him. Now, all he could think was that he needed to stir the soup. Especially the chicken noodle, which he knew Michael would love.

  “I’ve had like five cups already today,” he said, keeping his smile friendly and professional. He set both slow cookers to warm and snapped a piece of waxed paper out of the box. “But take your pick.” He waved the paper at the basket of bagels.

  Her eyebrows shot up, and she gave him a puzzled look and a shrug. “Chef’s choice.”

  He handed over a cinnamon raisin bagel with sweet cream cheese, then got back to his soup. Stirring filled the air with the warm, homey scent of chicken and a hint of onions and garlic. It took only thirty seconds be
fore the first of the library’s staffers abandoned setting out chairs and drifted his way to sneak a taste.

  By one thirty, he’d fed most of the staff, as he’d anticipated; he had quart-size to-go containers of warm soup in an insulated bag under his table. As patrons and potential donors began to trickle in, he refilled the slow cookers and restocked the bagels. A small display took work to keep stocked but was more visually appealing than a huge, half-empty spread—one of the little tricks he’d learned after a few disastrous early catering efforts.

  From that point on, he, Sam, and Betty from the diner, who was providing slices of pie for dessert, were all kept busy, but not too busy to chat. Sam’s Caf, as it turned out, wasn’t a brick-and-mortar café but a beachside kiosk owned and operated by Sam herself, who was a junior at the local college. Josh’s relief made him feel a touch guilty, but business was business.

  Still, it was easier to be friendly, and he genuinely smiled at her explanation: “It’s caf instead of café because I couldn’t fit the e on the sign.”

  He laughed over the sound of rattling plastic as he refilled the tray of forks and knives. “I figured you were being all cool or something.”

  “I am cool,” she declared smugly, pulling a shot of espresso for herself. It was her third so far, and Josh was wondering how long it would be before she glowed in the dark. “What’s with Bagel End? I can’t figure it out.”

  “You kind of have to see the shop to get the full impact,” he admitted. “My parents—they opened it, and they had a thing for Tolkien. And they always figured if anyone in Middle Earth invented bagels, it’d be hobbits.”

  “Aww, that’s adorable,” she cooed. “And you’ve kind of got the right look, with the hair.”

  “Don’t you start,” he warned, brandishing a blunt plastic knife at her. “I’m a crack shot with bagels.”

  She snickered and turned away, only to let out another “Aww.”

  “Come on,” he protested, scooping up some of the plain cream cheese. He’d entirely forgotten skipping his own lunch—a hazard of working in the food business. The whole Tolkien–Bagel End connection was subtle. It wasn’t like their menu board was written in Sindarin Elvish. “It’s not like—”

  “Puppy!”

  Kaylee! This time Josh’s heart definitely gave a lurch. He dropped the everything bagel onto his plate, along with the cream-cheese-covered knife, and leaned against the table to grin at Michael and Kaylee. They were standing by the reference desk, where the children’s librarian, who’d apparently drawn the short straw, was handing out donation forms instead of mingling. Michael took one of the forms, but instead of excusing himself, he set it on the reference desk and snapped a picture of it, then started typing on his phone.

  “Who’s the hottie with the cute puppy?” Sam asked.

  “My boyfriend.” Josh blurted it out without hesitation, wanting to stake his claim before her caffeine-fueled brain latched on to any ideas. Besides, he was ninety percent confident that he and Michael could use the b-word. Or seventy-five percent. Well, considering that he’d thought their relationship was over just a few hours earlier, maybe sixty, but that didn’t mean there was room for anyone else to butt in. Besides, they’d settled things when Michael staggered in this morning. Now it was just a matter of confirming their status, assuming Michael was more awake after his nap.

  Hopefully he had napped.

  It took a few more minutes for Michael to finish chatting with the librarian and checking his phone before he finally came over to Josh. He didn’t even look twice at Sam—just slipped between their tables so he could give Josh a quick kiss. “Hey. Thanks for waking me,” he said, his smile warm and relaxed. “Go ahead, say hi, Kaylee.”

  Josh put out a hand to scratch Kaylee’s head, but most of his attention was focused on Michael. There were still dark circles under his eyes, but the whites were no longer bloodshot. And while he’d showered and changed his clothes, he hadn’t shaved. “Hot, scruffy librarian,” he all but purred, reaching for Michael’s hand.

  Michael juggled his phone and the leash, freeing his hand to lace his fingers with Josh’s. “More like exhausted, starving veteran, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  “Chicken soup, everything bagel, roast beef, deli mustard? Not all in the same bowl,” Josh teased.

  “You’re spoiling me.”

  Reluctantly, Josh let go so he could wash his hands and put together Michael’s lunch. “If I didn’t, Bubbe would crawl out of her grave to yell at me.”

  “Need some coffee?” Sam piped up over the jingling of Kaylee’s collar tags. Josh glanced back and saw Kaylee standing behind Michael, blocking Sam from getting too close. Only then did he realize that at some point, Kaylee had stopped doing that to him.

  “No, thanks,” Michael said, stepping back and to the side, putting himself closer to Josh. He even switched the leash to his right hand, keeping Kaylee on Sam’s side, not Josh’s.

  That was a clear hint that he wasn’t ready to engage. PTSD, fatigue, or both? Whatever the case, Josh felt no guilt saying, “Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll bring this out to you.”

  Apparently Michael agreed, judging by his relieved smile and the way he leaned in for another quick kiss. “Thank you. And shit, I shouldn’t be back here anyway.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Food service areas and dogs don’t mix.” Michael twitched the leash and told Kaylee, “Go through.” She made her way between the tables, and he quickly followed.

  Josh refrained from rolling his eyes at how diligent Michael was when it came to the rules, though he supposed it was better than Michael ignoring them altogether. Random health department inspections sucked enough as it was, without adding in dog fur. He put together Michael’s lunch with a warm bagel he took out of the insulated bag, filled a soup bowl, then carried everything to the deserted corner table Michael had chosen. No surprise there. Josh was coming to learn that Michael wouldn’t be comfortable unless he could keep an eye on the exits and anyone who might sneak up on him.

  “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be done. A half hour, tops,” Josh said as he put everything down on the table.

  Michael caught his wrist and pulled him close. “You really don’t have to keep feeding me.”

  Josh smiled and turned his hand to catch Michael’s fingers. “I like taking care of you. I like you.” He was proud that he used like there, despite what his heart was whispering. He didn’t want to push for anything Michael wasn’t ready to give.

  Michael squeezed his hand. “I’m really sorry about yesterday. And this morning.”

  Josh’s first instinct was to wave it off as no big deal, but then he thought about how hard it was for Michael to open up to him—and how important that sort of honesty was for their future. “Tell me about it later?”

  Michael’s inhale was a little shaky, but his nod was firm. “Okay.” He gave another squeeze, then let go, a faint smile on his lips.

  “Okay.” Josh looked down at Kaylee, who was sitting under the table, ears perked as if she were eavesdropping. “You take care of him until I get back.” She wagged her tail.

  Josh took that as agreement and returned to his serving table, feeling better about the day. Between him and Kaylee and his new resolve for honesty, they’d get this relationship back on track.

  If Michael were to be perfectly honest with himself, something his therapist would applaud but he himself tended to avoid, he’d admit to timing his email check for right around when Josh was finishing with packing up his catering table. Hot, scruffy librarian. The thought made Michael snicker, though he didn’t look up from his phone. The email he’d sent to his accountant was full of typos, because he hadn’t bothered with his glasses. Now, though, he figured he’d put those glasses to good use, for Josh’s benefit.

  The donation form was simple enough—one page, typed and photocopied and photocopied again, slightly off-center. Someone at his accountant’s office had re-created it digitally, f
illing in all but the dollar figures, not that it was particularly easy to read on his phone. It was attached to an email with a brief review of Michael’s financial state. He’d paid cash for his car in DC, he had a single credit card he’d used to establish his credit rating and then paid off, and he was currently living rent-free, but he couldn’t stay here forever. His trust fund would let him live in comfort for the rest of his life, especially supplemented by his disability and medical retirement benefits from the Air Force.

  If he had followed the path his father laid out for him, he’d be making six figures at a law firm by now, probably in Boston or DC. Or he’d be drawing a minimal salary working as a congressional aide for someone with the right connections, probably with generous financial help from his parents. Either way, he’d be on the road to wealth and power instead of drifting through a tiny town that could barely call itself a vacation destination, where his only meaningful connection was with the bagel guy.

  He wouldn’t trade this life, aimless as it was, for all the power and money in the world.

  The thought made him smile, and he was still smiling when Josh came over, taking the seat next to him. “Feeling better?” Josh asked, laying his warm hand on Michael’s arm.

  “Yeah.” Michael put down his phone but didn’t take off the glasses. “Yeah, I am.”

  Josh nodded, fingers rubbing circles against Michael’s skin. “So, what do you say we talk, get it out of the way, and then I can give you a tour of the library?”

  Michael tried to hide a nervous shudder. “Is there more to see besides books, desks, and computers?”

  Josh laughed. “Reference section, kids’ section. There’s one of those figureheads from an old sailing ship, but this one’s supposed to be from a pirate ship.”

  “How can you stand the excitement?” Michael teased, scooting his chair closer. Kaylee was entirely under the table, so there was enough room for Michael to get right up next to Josh.