Tides of Discovery, page 2
He nodded, but concern creased his forehead.
I took another sip of the excellent coffee. “Thanks for this, by the way. It’s exactly what I needed.”
A customer entered, the bell above the door announcing their arrival. Cooper straightened. Duty called. “Enjoy the coffee. It’s on the house.”
“You’ll go out of business giving me free coffee.”
Cooper walked backward a few steps, and that warm smile made another appearance. “Your payment for getting my POS back online.”
“That took me about ten minutes.”
“Then you’re vastly undercharging for your services, mister tech wizard.” He turned away and greeted the customer with the same friendliness he showed everyone.
I watched him go and allowed myself five seconds of unfiltered longing before I pocketed my phone. Five seconds to imagine a different reality where I had the courage to tell Cooper McKay that I’d moved to be near him. Every morning in this coffee shop was both heaven and hell—being close to him, but never close enough.
The truth was, moving to Seacliff Cove had been both the best and worst decision of my life. Best because I got to see Cooper nearly every day. Worst because seeing him every day was a constant reminder of everything I couldn’t have.
I glanced at Cooper once more, now engaged in friendly conversation with the customer. His genuine interest in people was one of the many things I loved about him. The way he remembered everyone’s drink preferences. The way his whole face lit up when he talked about a new coffee bean he’d discovered. The way he’d stayed until midnight helping me move into my apartment even though he’d had to open the shop at six.
My phone buzzed with a text. I looked down to see a message from Cooper, despite being only twenty feet away.
Thanks for listening. Means a lot.
I smiled and typed back.
Always here if you need to vent. Or if you need a human shield at that dinner.
Cooper read the message from behind the counter and shot me a grateful look. I held his gaze for a moment and tried to communicate without words that I meant it. I’d be there for him in whatever capacity he needed, even if it meant sitting through an awkward dinner with his disapproving parents.
Because that’s what you did when you loved someone: you showed up, even when it was hard. Even when they didn’t love you back the same way. Even when friendship was all you’d ever have.
Outside the tall windows, Seacliff Cove’s main street bustled with Monday morning activity. The town had welcomed me easily, folding me into its rhythms as if I’d always belonged here. My apartment above the bookstore next door had slowly transformed from a temporary landing place to something that felt like home.
I took a last sip of the exceptional coffee and returned the mug to the counter. Cyber threats wouldn’t fix themselves, and I had clients depending on me.
But even as I left, part of me remained hyperaware of Cooper moving through his domain, creating moments of connection over cups of coffee, one person at a time. And I wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like if he ever looked at me and saw more than just his best friend from college.
Maybe someday I’d gather enough courage to find out. But for now, I stayed in my safe corner, loving him silently from the distance of a coffee shop table, collecting small moments, knowing they’d never add up to what I really wanted but treasuring them all the same.
CHAPTER TWO
Cooper
“That’s the last of the dishes,” Aaron called. Soft beeps echoed through the kitchen as he pressed buttons on the dishwasher’s control panel. The teenager had been working at The Coffee Cove after school for nearly six months, and I appreciated his efficiency.
I gave the pastry case one final inspection to ensure it was spotless. “Thanks. I’ll finish up here if you want to head out.”
“You sure?” He emerged from the kitchen and glanced at the clock. “It’s getting late.”
“I’m sure.” I flashed him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
The truth was, after the POS system fiasco that morning, I needed some quiet time to think. Jack had gotten it working again, but his concerned expression had left me uneasy. The upcoming dinner with my family only added to my anxiety.
“See you tomorrow, then.” Aaron grabbed his backpack from beneath the counter.
Once he was gone, I locked the door behind him. The evening hush of The Coffee Cove settled around me: no hissing espresso machine, no chatter of customers, just the low hum of the refrigerators and the occasional creak of the old building.
I wiped down the counters one more time, more out of habit than necessity. The shop was immaculate—I made sure of that—but the repetitive motion helped calm my nerves. The morning rush, the system crash, Ryan’s visit…it had been quite a day.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Jack.
On my way. Burritos + chips + salsa in hand. ETA 10 min.
I smiled at his text. Somehow, Jack always knew when I needed food. I texted back a quick thumbs-up emoji and went to the back office to pull out the financial paperwork I’d been avoiding all weekend.
The numbers were daunting. While The Coffee Cove was doing well, the loan I’d taken out to buy the place from my former boss loomed large. Every unexpected expense—like repairs to a POS system—made my stomach knot with apprehension.
A sharp knock at the front door pulled me from my intimidating calculations. Jack stood outside, a brown paper takeout bag in one hand, two craft beers hooked in the other, and a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His honey-brown hair was windblown, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled through the glass. Whenever Jack flashed that familiar crooked grin of his—the one where the left corner of his mouth lifted just a bit higher than the right—something warm unfurled in my chest. It was my best friend’s smile, familiar and comforting, with its perfect imperfection that had become more dear to me over the years than any carefully practiced smile.
I unlocked the door. “Perfect timing. I was just about to start stress-eating the leftover biscotti.”
“Tempting, but I thought you deserved better.” Jack stepped inside, and instantly, the warm, spicy aroma of grilled meat, cumin, and slow-roasted salsa filled the shop. “Besides, that biscotti is basically drywall.”
“Hey! Some people like a good crunch.” I relocked the door behind him.
“I got you the chicken burrito—no cheese, extra guac. Plus, chips and this smoky chipotle salsa that made me rethink my whole life.”
I laughed, even as my stomach growled at the scent. “You’re a dangerous man, Anderson.”
“Only to good food and unsecured networks.” He set the bag and beers on the table, and I grabbed plates and napkins from behind the counter, along with a bottle opener for the beers.
We unwrapped our food, and the mingled scents of seasoned rice, lime, and roasted chilis wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I sat and took a bite, the citrusy tang of guacamole giving way to savory grilled chicken and just a hint of heat from the salsa. The crunch of chips followed by the smoky richness of tomato and charred pepper hit all the right notes. Comfort food, wrapped in foil.
Jack dug into his carnitas burrito with the enthusiasm of a man who hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “God, this place is a hidden gem. The pork’s perfectly tender, like it spent the day sleeping in a slow cooker.”
We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Outside, the streetlights cast a golden glow through the front windows. A few pedestrians hurried past, collars turned up against the evening chill.
“So…” I wiped my hands on a napkin. “About this morning…”
Jack swallowed his bite. “Yeah. We need to talk about that.”
“I’m going to call the repair service tomorrow. They handle all our equipment maintenance.”
Jack shook his head, his expression serious. “This isn’t a maintenance issue, Coop. Someone hacked your system.”
The burrito suddenly lost its appeal, settling heavy in my stomach. “Hacked? You mean like…deliberately?”
“Yes.” Jack wiped his hands and pulled his laptop from his bag. “Mind if I show you?”
I nodded and nudged the burrito aside to make room. Jack opened his computer and began typing, his fingers moving with practiced speed.
“You said Ben set up your system, right?” he asked, not looking up from the screen.
The mention of my ex-boyfriend made me wince. “Yeah. About a year ago, right after I bought the place. He did all the technical stuff—computers, website, social media accounts.”
“And does he still have access to any of it?”
I hesitated. “I never thought about that.”
Jack’s expression remained neutral, but a muscle in his jaw visibly tightened. “So he knows your password?”
“Probably,” I admitted. “I haven’t changed it. It’s the same one I use for most things.”
Jack stopped typing and peered at me through his black-framed glasses. “Cooper McKay. Tell me you don’t use the same password for everything.”
My face heated. “Not everything. Just…most things.”
“Let me guess. Is it ‘TheCoffeeCove’ followed by the year we graduated college?”
My embarrassment deepened. “With an exclamation point at the end,” I said sheepishly.
Jack pressed his palms against his forehead. “You’re killing me, Coop. That’s like leaving your biscotti out for the seagulls.”
“Okay. Okay.” I laughed despite the stress. “Some of us didn’t take Advanced Cybersecurity 301.”
Jack’s expression softened. “I’m not blaming you. But we need to fix this, and fast.” He turned his laptop toward me. “Look at this. I just hacked into your system. It was way too easy.”
Jack pointed to lines of code on the screen that might as well have been hieroglyphics.
“These are traces of unauthorized access to your system. Someone got in, looked around, and then triggered that crash this morning.”
A chill ran down my spine. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Could be random,” Jack said, though his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “But this level of sophistication suggests otherwise. This wasn’t some kid messing around. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They were disrupting your business.”
I sank back in my chair. “Great. So I’ve got some mysterious hacker after me.”
Jack reached across the table and squeezed my shoulder. “Hey. You’re not alone in this. I’m going to help you.”
His touch was reassuring, warm through the fabric of my shirt. Jack had always been my rock, ever since we’d met during our sophomore year at Brewed Awakening. Through the stress of finals, my parents’ rejection when I came out, buying the coffee shop, every heart-wrenching breakup, especially with Ben—Jack had been there for all of it.
“I know,” I said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Something flickered in Jack’s blue eyes—a fleeting shadow of emotion so swift I nearly missed it. Was that…longing? My breath caught in my throat.
Throughout our years together, I’d occasionally catch glimpses of something more intense in his gaze. But surely, if Jack had harbored deeper feelings all this time, he would have told me at some point during our sixteen years of friendship. I must have imagined the interest in his eyes.
The moment shattered as Jack turned back to the laptop. “First things first, we need to change all your passwords. And I mean all of them. Banking, email, social media, everything.”
“Now?” I glanced at the clock. It was past seven.
“Yes, now.” Jack was already typing again. “I’m also installing a more secure firewall and some security monitoring software I developed. It’ll alert me if anyone tries to access your network again.”
For the next hour, Jack methodically worked through my digital life, strengthening defenses I hadn’t known were weak. I sat beside him and worked on my own laptop, changing all my passwords. Jack’s brow furrowed when he focused, a small vertical line appearing between his eyebrows. I’d seen that expression countless times over the years—during late-night study sessions, intense gaming marathons, heated discussions about movies or books. That tiny crease had become one of my favorite things about him and left me suppressing a chuckle.
“There,” he said finally. He sat back with satisfaction and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Much better. Not impenetrable, but a hell of a lot stronger than it was.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Seriously, Jack. You’re the best friend I could ask for.”
He shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
There was something in his voice I couldn’t quite place. A hint of…what? Resignation? Disappointment? Before I could analyze it further, he closed his laptop and began packing up.
“It’s getting late. I should head out so you can turn out the lights and get some sleep.” He hesitated a beat, then added, “Are we still on for gaming tomorrow night?”
I nodded, and the corner of my mouth tugged up. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Goodnight, Cooper.” His gaze lingered a beat longer than was strictly necessary.
“Night, Jack.” My voice came out quieter than I intended. I didn’t want him to go, but my morning started early.
He paused at the threshold and looked back at me. Something charged and vulnerable passed across his face before he quickly masked it with a crooked grin.
“Lock up behind me,” he said, and then he was gone, walking under the glowing streetlights toward his apartment.
I watched him until he passed beyond the windows and puzzled over that look—like he wanted to say something important but couldn’t find the words.
Was I misinterpreting his expression? My romantic intuition had the accuracy of a compass near a magnet, with Ben standing as the painful monument to my spectacular failure in reading between the lines. I’d completely missed all the signs that Ben had been cheating.
Was I doing it again? Those lingering glances, the way Jack’s eyes seemed to soften when they met mine—were they clues he wanted more than friendship, or was I inferring meanings that didn’t exist?
I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I stowed my laptop, slid into my jacket, and turned off the lights. Tomorrow would bring new challenges: figuring out who had hacked my system, updating my staff’s passwords, and keeping The Coffee Cove running smoothly.
CHAPTER THREE
Cooper
Darkness had descended on Main Street as I wiped down the espresso machine for the third time. The stainless steel gleamed under my cloth, reflecting my distorted image back at me. I’d already cleaned every surface twice, emptied the pastry case, and loaded the dishwasher. Anything to keep my hands busy while my mind churned over the upcoming birthday dinner.
“Boss, I’m pretty sure that machine is clean enough to perform surgery on.” Jessica leaned against the counter. Her purple-tipped hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she had that patient look she got whenever I was being neurotic. “You’ve been polishing it for ten minutes.”
I set the cloth down with a sigh. “Just making sure it’s ready for tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh.” Jessica raised an eyebrow. “And this has nothing to do with whatever your brother was talking to you about yesterday?”
The bell above the door jingled as our last customer of the day departed with a to-go cup, leaving us alone in the shop. Outside, Seacliff Cove was settling into that peaceful lull between the workday and dinner hour.
“You’re too observant for your own good,” I muttered. I moved to lock the front door and flip the sign to Closed. “Ryan wants me to attend his birthday dinner next week. My parents will be there.”
“Ah.” Jessica’s expression softened. She’d been working for me since I bought the coffee shop a year ago, and she knew enough about my family situation to understand. “That explains the stress-cleaning.”
I’d spent years perfecting the art of limiting my exposure to my parents’ particular brand of disapproval. Now I’d agreed to willingly subject myself to it for an entire evening. The knot in my stomach tightened.
“Go home, Jess.” I attempted a smile. “I’ll finish closing up.”
“You sure? I can stay if—”
“I’m sure. Thanks.”
After Jessica left, I moved through my closing routine with practiced efficiency. The ordinary tasks—wiping down tables, running the end-of-day report, loading the dishwasher—grounded me. By the time I finished, evening had settled outside the windows, and the coffee shop felt like a warm cave against the January chill.
I pulled my coat tight around me as I stepped onto the sidewalk. The cold air hit me like a splash of iced coffee, and I hurried toward my apartment four blocks away. My breath puffed white in front of me as I walked. My thoughts circled back to the same painful realizations I’d been torturing myself with all afternoon.
My parents hadn’t changed in the sixteen years since I’d come out during my sophomore year of college. They hadn’t disowned me—that would have been too dramatic, too obvious. Instead, they’d settled into a pattern of cool politeness, treating my sexuality like a regrettable phase that they were enduring. Every interaction came with unspoken judgment.
And I’d just agreed to pour myself another cup of that particular blend.
By the time I reached my apartment building, my fingers were stiff and cold despite having shoved them in my pockets. I fumbled with my keys, grateful when the lock finally turned and I stepped into the relative warmth of my first-floor apartment.
