It means I’m not heartless. I’m a decent person. I am.
The second Lou sees my face she fixes me a cup of hot cocoa and tells me to sit down. She doesn’t ask any questions, just leaves me alone at the counter to drink and calm down a little while she and Phyllis clear tables. It’s weird to be here early like this, without Asha or Sam in tow. I go through five cups of cocoa before Andy shows up. He’s always the first—Westfield High gets out twenty minutes before Grand Lake.
He cocks his head at me as he ties on his apron. “You’re early,” he says. He glances at the clock. “Looks like I have a few minutes before my shift. Gonna go have a smoke.”
I stay seated for a minute, gathering my nerve. Before I can talk myself out of what I’m about to do, I push off the stool and follow him into the back alley. He’s leaned up against the wall, midsmoke.
I take a deep breath. And let it go.
“I need your help.”
* * *
“You’re sure that’s enough brown sugar?”
Andy gives me a strange look.
I cross my arms and stare back, impatient. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Sorry,” he says, turning his gaze down into the bowl he’s stirring. “I’m just not used to…you. Talking. Out loud. It’s sort of blowing my mind at the moment.”
Honestly, it’s blowing mine a little, too. My voice sounds weird to my own ears. It’s been—what? Four weeks? Four weeks and not a single word. Not one. Pretty impressive.
When I spoke, Andy actually dropped his cigarette out of sheer surprise. Once the initial shock wore off, he just told me to follow him into the kitchen, where he handed me off ingredients and told me how much to measure. He said I could talk to him while we made a batch of Dex’s famous brownies, because his best conversations are held while he’s baking. Apparently it helps him focus or something. It doesn’t exactly make sense to me, but I’m going with it.