(77)

                                    

                                          
Little Hill was the name of the cafe. I don't think that I'd noticed that when I was here with Lucas and Max earlier. It made me wonder where the name came from. As far as I could tell, there were no hills around. No small ones. None in the near distance. 
                          
My pondering was probably just a form of stalling because I'd been standing on the footpath for about fifteen minutes, nervous to go inside, totally unsure of what I was meant to say to the stranger who'd left me a note. The breeze picked up, billowing the umbrellas over outdoor tables and I finally noticed a few diners watching me. 
                          
Realising that it was ridiculous to keep hovering outside like a stalker, i weaved through the tables and went inside, lifting my sunglasses onto the top of my head. The lighting wasn't great, there weren't a lot of windows and the dark wood features made it even dimmer, but the atmosphere was rustic and relaxing. 
                          
A bar stretched along the right side of the cafe, so I hopped up onto one of the stools and looked around, looking for him. It was entirely possible that he'd finished his shift. It'd been a few hours since I was here last. But then he came out of the kitchen at the end of the bar and stood still, staring at me with surprise. 
                          
Nerves welled as he grabbed a tall glass and walked towards me. "Ice tea?" 
                          
"Oh. . . sure. Thanks, um Harley, is it?"
                          
He smiled and started filling the glass with cubes of ice. 
                          
"I'm Abby."
                          
"I know," he said, focused on his task. He seemed— "I'm nervous," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm not being rude. I'm just super nervous."
                          
He finally looked at me, set the glass down in front of me and exhaled a deep breath. 
                          
"Why are you nervous?"
                          
"I didn't think you'd come back," he leaned his palms on the counter surface. "I thought you'd think I was an over sharing weirdo or something. But I just wanted you to know that your speech made a big impact on me. It was. . . inspiring."
                          
"That's not weird," I said, running my fingers through the circle of liquid that had pooled around the bottom of the glass. "That's brave. I loved your note. I have no idea what I'm doing here but, I felt like I needed to come back and say thank you." 
                          
He locked eye contact with me for a minute and a tense beat passed as he smiled. And then he lightly laughed. "I think your brother was flirting with me this morning."
                          
"I am so sorry if that made you uncomfortable. Lucas is not. . . he's a breed of his own."
                          
He shrugged a shoulder. "Must keep things at home interesting."
                          
"It did when we lived together. But I don't think I appreciated it at the time. He used to drive me insane. Max and I got along a lot better when we were teenagers."
                          
"And you're all the same age," he thought aloud, lowering his elbows onto the surface now, so that he was closer to me than before. "That had to have been fun right? Living with siblings who could basically be your friend group? My brother and I are six years apart and we were never close growing up."
                          
A sip of ice tea cooled my throat and I set the glass down. "It's a case by case situation I think. Yeah, for sure we had so much fun and we shared a big group of friends but there were times when Lucas was so in my business that it would make me mental and we'd have screaming fights and that sort of thing." 
                          
"Why was he like that?"
                          
"Why was Lucas in my business?" I said and felt a pang of sadness. "Because he was protective of me. He didn't trust his own kind. Men. He used to tell me that he was a fluent asshole and he knew what to look for. No one could be trusted as far as he was concerned. I hated it at the time, but he had good intentions. He was right too."