Frost

A Midwinter Night

One month.

That’s all it had been, one month since Drew’s death and Jack’s aborted suicide attempt in his bathroom. One month since Zach had told him to take some time to get his head together again after Mari’s rather cryptic early morning phone call.

Jack squared his shoulders, stared hard at the cheery open sign in the door, and pushed it open. The bell rang, like always, and Sandra still gave him come hither looks over her latest erotica from the corner. He still blushed, too, because some things were inevitable.

He hung his coat in the back room like normal, and took his apron off the hook where it had hung unused for days. His fingers stilled in the act of tying the strings in the back, and he forced himself to remember how to breathe as Drew’s smiling face looked out at him from a frame on the wall. Drew’s arm was around Jack’s shoulders, and his own winter pixie self stared back at him, his expression genuine.

Drew had brought out some of the best in him that was for damn sure. And it was something he wouldn’t – couldn’t – forget anytime soon.

Zach came through the back door with all the finesse of a one-legged drunken elephant, stamping the snow from his boots. “ – and Jack will teach – hey, talk about timing. Hi, Jack.”

“Zach.” He shuffled his feet, burying his hands in the front pockets of his apron. “Hi.”

The big man eyed him critically, and for a second Jack thought he wasn’t going to pass muster. Zach must have seen something he approved of, and Jack was caught off-guard when the man gathered him up in a rib-cracking hug. He patted Zach on the back, glad to be back on solid ground when he let go.

“It’s good to see you,” Zach said.

“Good to be back.” He straightened his apron and eyed the girl edging around Zach’s bulk. “Hi.”

“Oh. Right.” The big man stepped aside. “Jack, Cassidy. Cassidy, Jack.”

He held his hand out automatically with a small nod.

“Zach’s told me a bit about you,” she said, flipping her bright blue bangs away from her eyes with a toss of her head. “Said we’d be working together a lot.”

Jack pulled his bandana out of his pants pocket and put it on. “Probably.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. Could he trust her as easily as he had Drew? Probably not. She didn’t have any outward sign of being a Piper’s descendent, but it wasn’t like he could check, either.

A smothered quiet descended on the pair of them as Zach retreated to the back room. Jack crouched to do a quick inventory of the milk fridge – completely out of alphabetical order, again, damn it – and pulled the gallon of whole from where it had been shoved toward the back.

“You can call me either Cassidy or Coop, if you want,” she said as she leaned against the counter by the register.

“Coop?” He poured into the metal cup and held it out for her to see. “This is how much you use when making a tall drink.”

“My last name is Cooper.” Her gray eyes watched him turn on the steamer. “And you want the milk to smell sweet, right?”

“Correct.” Leaving it temporarily on the drip tray, he put fresh grounds in the brewing group, attached the portafilter back to the machine, and flipped the switch; the rich smell of espresso filled the air. “Four pumps.”

Cassidy nodded. “I’m sorry about your loss.”

Jack stiffened, his shoulders tightening painfully.