Ch. 18 |  Espresso Yourself

Jesse sat on the bench outside his home. It was his first time back since the showdown with that woman—Sam, as he later learned. Leave it to my aunt to befriend someone so abrasive, he thought, then immediately chastised himself.

Truthfully, he didn’t blame her for reacting the way she had. He’d been a little too possessive over a public bench and acted like a jerk. The race accusation had thrown him—he’d never—but what was he supposed to say in the moment? That he had Black friends?

He snorted to himself.

And then there was the HOA event. He’d all but blamed her for stirring things up when, in reality, she was defending him. He’d blundered the whole thing and didn’t deserve her kindness.

I don’t mean to be so distant, he thought. But still—Jesse's life hadn’t been a cakewalk, and he did his best not to let that color how he treated people.

Fifteen years had passed since the car crash that claimed his family. And while he’d only admitted it once in therapy—it had been the best thing that ever happened to him.

His father’s abuse hadn’t been physical. No, it was psychological. Emotional. Ruthless in its quiet precision. It had taken Jesse years of therapy, an active faith, and the consistent love of his Aunt Elaine to find peace. And even then, peace mostly meant quiet.

Between Jesus, his aunt, and Jamison, Jesse had everything he needed. Add his work at the ER to the mix, and life felt… manageable.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Sam said, approaching with Auggie in tow. She was holding two small cups.

He blinked, unsure how to receive the intrusion.

“I, uh, know I wasn’t exactly the most charitable neighbor when we first met,” she started, extending one of the cups. “So… I come bearing a peace offering. Doppio espresso.”

Jesse paused. Then gave a single nod and reached for the cup.

“Thanks,” he said, accepting it. “This seat isn’t taken.”

“Appreciate it,” Sam replied, sitting down beside him as Auggie flopped lazily at her feet.

Jesse gave the dog a quick once-over, smiling slightly. “He’s got better manners than most people in this neighborhood.”

“He’s got better manners than me,” she said dryly.

Jesse chuckled and looked down at the espresso. “Actually… I owe you an apology, too,” he said. “I shouldn’t have acted like king of the park bench. And I really should’ve thanked you for the other night. You didn’t have to step in… but you did. Sorry I handled it so poorly.”

Sam nodded. “Elaine said you’d lost a kid that day. I could’ve been more understanding. I guess my disdain for doctors tends to short-circuit my compassion.”

Jesse squinted. “Your dad’s a doctor, isn’t he?”

“Exactly,” she replied flatly.

He snorted, then caught himself. “Sorry, that wasn’t appropriate.”

“It’s all good,” she said with a smirk. “I said it for comedic effect. Your aunt didn’t spill your story or anything, but I picked up on a vibe. You might be part of the Dusty Dad’s Club.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Dusty Dad’s Club?”

“It’s a club I made up,” Sam explained. “For people—of all ages—who grew up with terrible fathers.”

He gave a soft laugh. “That’s pretty good. And yeah… you’d be right. I’m a card-carrying member.”

This time she laughed. It surprised him how much he liked hearing it.

“You always come out here this early?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Usually after I walk Jamison. I sit here for a bit and have a quiet internal conversation.”

He paused. Why did I just say that out loud?

“Talk to who?” Sam asked, sipping her drink.

“Um… God?” he replied, more like a question than a statement. Instantly wishing he could take it back.

Sam raised her eyebrows. “That’s funny. Me too. Good thing He’s omnipresent, otherwise we’d be fighting over Him too.”

Jesse burst out laughing. It hit him straight in the gut—genuine, from-the-chest laughter.

“I think you’re right,” he said, still smiling. “I guess our past few interactions haven’t exactly been Jesus-approved.”

Sam grinned. “No, probably not. But hey—next time you need the space to talk to the big guy upstairs, just say the word. I’ll make myself scarce.”

“No, it’s cool,” Jesse said quickly. “I can share.”

Sam nodded and stood up. “Well, we better get going.”

“Have a good one,” Jesse said, lifting his espresso. “Oh, and next time—bring dominoes.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. He cringed. What am I, five? Trying to make a playground friend?

Sam looked back, grinning. “As long as you don’t throw a tantrum when I win.”

Jesse laughed, watching as she and Auggie disappeared down the path.

Maybe she was weird. But then again, he wasn’t exactly normal either. Maybe—just maybe—there was room in his life for a friend after all.