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It was Wednesday night. The only way Hardy could tell it was Wednesday night was the queue was slightly longer than usual as shops were open later. Otherwise, his shift had been identical to every other soul crushing shift he had spent at the miserable coffee shop that employed him.
Occasionally, the crowd would thin and he would be given a couple of minutes to wipe down the counter and reflect on how the fuck his life had reached this new and pathetic low. Tonight, fortunately, had been rammed since he’d clocked in and he was trying to see this as a benefit of serving a never ending mass of dribbling idiots.
He handed a woman herding three children along with her some change and turned to a man with an embarrassing attempt at a comb-over.
Comb-over smiled at him and then looked at the menu displayed behind his head.
“You’ve been in this queue for at least five minutes,” Hardy pointed out. “How have you not decided what you want already?”
“Sorry?” Comb-over looked as though someone had offered him a reasonably priced toupee.
“How can I help you?” Hardy asked in a monotone.
Once he was dealt with, Hardy turned to the next customer and nearly winced at the brightness of her smile.
“Don’t worry, I’ve already decided what I want,” she said whilst somehow still managing to grin so widely it must have hurt her cheeks. “Large mocha, please.”
Hardy grunted as he selected her drink on the till. “Take-away?”
“And a bit less attitude if possible.”
He glared at her. “Cash or card?”
“If the wind changes then your face will stick that way.”
“I’ll be sure to check the weather forecast. Cash or-”
The woman held her debit card up with a look of disbelief. “Are you always this miserable?”
Ignoring her, Hardy charged her card and wrote something on a takeaway cup. She wasn’t the first customer to ask him that. In fact, she wasn’t even the first that evening. He was just thankful the old man who owned the shop had no idea what Trip Advisor was because the comments about him on there were much more well thought out and colourful.
“Your drink will be ready at the end of the counter,” he told her, slamming the empty cup next to the espresso machine. “Next.”
The woman blinked at him. “You didn’t ask my name.”
“I saw it on your card. Next.”
A few minutes and disgruntled customers later, and the woman’s face had almost been forgotten amongst the rest of the disgustingly cheery smiles he was exposed to all day long. He wouldn’t have thought anything more of her if she hadn’t done something very few other customers ever did and came back for a second round.
“Miller?” he heard her cry from the collection point. “You put Miller? ”
“It’s your name,” Hardy replied, interrupting the teenager he’d been serving.
She scoffed and fought through the crowd to stand in front of him again. “My surname! I’d prefer it if you called me Ellie.”
Hardy took the untoasted panini from the customer in front of him and ran it through the till. “Have a good night, Miller.”
He heard her huff and watched her leave out of the corner of his eye as he finished serving. Her friendly disposition might have made him nauseous, but he had to admire her bravery.
It was Thursday night. Hardy only knew it was Thursday night because the weird teenager with the body odour was sitting at his usual table using the free wi-fi to watch South Park on his laptop.
Hardy’s daydream about the time when he could distinguish the days of the week without noticing which oddballs he was surrounded by was interrupted by the door to the shop opening. He glanced up and saw the brown-haired woman from the night before. Rather than openly jolly, this time she looked determined.
“Didn’t think you’d be back again, Miller,” Hardy said as she approached the till.
She pursed her lips. “This is the only place open at this time.”
“And don’t I know it.”
“Caramel latte with cream, please.”
“£3.50.”
She looked up at the menu and then back at him. “It says £3.25 up there.”
“It’s extra for cream.” The novelty of this particular argument had been lost about three hours into his first shift. He had even correctly predicted what her comeback was going to be.
“Starbucks give free cream.”
“Go to Starbucks.”
“It’s closed.”
“£3.50, then, please.”
She practically threw the change at him. “And remember my name’s Ellie.”
With the place so quiet, there was no need to put anything on her cup, but Hardy did anyway. He watched her as he made her drink, surveying the place. She probably hadn’t been able to the day before with so many people around. It was nice to see someone taking note of their surroundings and not burying themselves in Twitter at every opportunity.
He handed her the drink without the farewell the employee handbook insisted upon.
She gave him a perfunctory thank you and was halfway to the exit when she noticed the name on her cup. “How hard is it for you to remember Ellie ?”
“The whole point of a takeaway cup is you take it away.”
Miller stormed out but not before he caught a couple of swear words directed at him.
The days and nights continued to bleed together in a blur of overpriced heart attacks masquerading as drinks, but Hardy found himself looking forward to three days in particular.
Friday was payday and meant he was one step closer to buying one of the many things he had owned a year ago, but had had to leave behind. It also meant he could go food shopping and not have to make do with whatever was left in his fridge from the previous week’s trip to Asda.
Wednesday and Thursday, around half seven (not that he was paying too much attention), Miller would come in. As the weeks went by, she accepted that he was going to call her by her surname and he got used to her trying to make small talk with him. It had almost became a game between them, to see which would snap first.
In a world where he had the same three conversations on repeat for eight hours a day, he was grateful for anything remotely stimulating.
With Wednesdays being busier they rarely had chance to really wind each other up, but they made up for it on Thursdays. One week, she had almost finished her drink and had to rush off because they had been arguing about whether or not banning phones in the shop would have been a good idea.
He didn’t really give a shit either way, but being paid to piss Miller off was much more appealing than deep cleaning the blender for a third time that day.
“Your name isn’t Brian,” she told him out of the blue one Thursday.
Hardy paused with his finger hovering about one of the two drinks she always ordered and frowned at her. “I know.”
“So why does your name badge say it is?”
“Latte or mocha?”
“Mocha, please, Brian.” She smiled sweetly at him.
“Someone nicked my badge,” he grumbled, jabbing the till with more force than necessary. “Wrote ‘Shit Face’ on it.”
Miller bit her lip to stop herself from laughing as she paid. As he made the drink, he did his best to ignore her hiding her chuckles behind her hand. Up until that moment, he hadn’t found the situation funny, but now it was downright mortifying. He had thought it had been impossible for his constant sense of shame to increase, especially considering he was wearing an apron in public.
Still, he supposed it was nice that she noticed.
“So is Hardy your real name?” she hedged, peering over the espresso machine.
Hardy didn’t look up from what he was doing. This was far too close to a normal conversation for them. “Aye.”
“First name?”
“Surname.”
She wrinkled her nose up. “Why do you have your surname on your name badge?”
He shrugged as he poured the milk in. “Don’t like my first name.”
“Which is…”
“None of your business.” He clicked the lid into place and put the cup on the counter.
Miller took the drink with a hurt expression. “Oh. Okay.”
Hardy watched her leave, going over the conversation in his head and trying to work out what he’d done wrong. His observational skills had always served him well in the past, but his inability to read women often ruined any advantage that gave him. He picked up a damp cloth with a sigh. His current situation was proof enough of that.
Another day of monotony was crawling to an end. Hardy was avoiding looking at the clock to count the minutes until he could tell the stragglers to get out and lock the door behind them. He was once again wiping down the table next to one of the remaining customers who just wasn’t taking the hint when he heard a sound that made his stomach plummet - the door opening.
He was about ready to throw his cloth at the inconsiderate arsehole when he noticed they were wearing a PC uniform and his anger quickly morphed into the tightening sensation he was sadly familiar with.
“Can I help you, officer?” he asked, abandoning the table to get to the door.
“Could murder a coffee, if you’re still serving,” she replied, removing her hat and causing Hardy’s jaw to hit the floor.
It was Miller.
Despite being nearly a foot taller than her, he had never felt smaller than he did in that moment. Standing in front of her, with only an apron to shield him, it was as though every insult, indignity and wound he had suffered in the last twelve months was being piled upon him all at once and he could barely breathe.
“So are you?” she asked.
“Am I what?”
“Still serving?”
“Oh.” He hurried to the counter and heard her following. “What do you want?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Is this all it took for you to treat a customer nicely? A uniform?”
“I might be the worst barista in Britain, but I know better than to piss off the police.”
Miller laughed and he hoped she didn’t notice that his expression made him look like he had just thrown up in his mouth. Thankfully she paid for her drink in silence so he could calm down. His luck ran out as he was making it, however. He should’ve known better than to hope Miller could keep her mouth shut for more than ten seconds.
“I normally come in before work, but I swapped shifts tonight,” she explained. He didn’t know why. It had nothing to do with him. So he might have been in a mood when she hadn’t shown up at her usual time and called a regular an arse for being on the phone while ordering. It wasn’t like they had some agreement. She was just a customer.
“Yeah, it was someone’s stag do so all the lads took the earlier shifts,” she added when he didn’t respond. “Can’t wait to take the piss out of them tomorrow. You know - when they’re all worse for wear.” She smiled at him, but it faded when he ignored her.
“Oh! I forgot - can I get a blueberry muffin to go as well? Promised Joe I’d get one for him.”
Hardy bagged a muffin and rang it through the till. “Do muffins help with hangovers or something?”
“Oh no - Joe isn’t - he’s my boyfriend.”
“Shit!” Hardy rushed to the sink behind him and ran his hand under the cold water, admiring the angry red mark the espresso wand had just given him.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Just a burn,” Hardy gritted out. It’d been months since he’d burnt himself. The marks on his wrist had only just faded. Though he was hardly a trained medic, he could tell by the way the mark was already blistering that he’d probably given himself another scar.
Just as he was wondering if he had any antiseptic cream in his flat, he heard a noise behind him that made him turn around. Miller was behind the counter, pouring the steamed milk into her cup.
“Oi!” he cried. “What are you doing?”
She sipped her drink, leaving a line of foam on her top lip. “Giving you a hand.”
“You can’t be back here!”
“Arrest me, then.”
He scowled at her raised eyebrows and went back to inspecting his hand.
“Want me to get you some ice?” Miller offered from beside him.
Hardy pulled his hand out of the water and immediately regretted it as the pain returned with avengence. He wasn’t used to standing without a counter between him. He was even less used to another human looking at him with concern. As though his well-being truly mattered to them.
“It’s fine,” he repeated. “Part of the job.”
Miller hesitated, as if unsure if she should fight him more, but eventually went back to her side of the counter. She shifted her weight from side to side while he tried to think of something to say and ignore the pain from his hand.
“I best be going back. Thanks for the drink,” she said with a small smile.
“Right.”
She turned to leave before Hardy could think of anything better to say.
“Your name badge is the same.”
She turned around. “Eh?”
He nodded at her stab vest. “E. Miller.”
Admittedly, her’s was neatly sewn into her uniform, rather than a cheap bit of plastic with a slip of paper in it, but it still displayed her surname.
“So it is.” With a wave, she left the shop and Hardy forgot to kick the rest of the customers out until ten minutes after closing time.
Weeks turned into months, and Hardy’s burn faded along with what was left of his self-esteem. His time at the coffee shop was only supposed to tide him over until he could get back to what he used to do, but with every rejection letter his hopes dwindled. His days off were being spent washing his uniform, rather than job hunting and he could barely summon the energy to antagonise fussy customers anymore.
Of course, he still saw Miller twice a week. Their bi-weekly arguments became discussions and then just conversations with running jokes. The occasional mention of her boyfriend kept him grounded which wasn’t so bad. He would be lying if he said he’d fully recovered from his last relationship after all. It wasn’t like he was madly in love with her; he was just slightly fonder of her than everyone else in his life, which didn’t say much as he hated nearly everyone.
Still. It did ruin the occasional daydream he had about her.
One Saturday, he was indulging in one of these daydreams after he had been relegated to cleaning mugs because he had nearly started a fight with a woman who insisted she needed her dog with her to order. The details were fuzzy, lost in the hubbub of the crowd behind him, but there was a beach with towering cliffs and tiny blue beach huts.
It was all a bit confusing, considering how much he despised the seaside.
“I’m telling you - best coffee but the worst service.”
“Winning combination.”
Hardy whipped around and saw Miller, casually dressed with shopping bags. He’d never seen her with her curls loose around her face and it was almost as if time stopped when she smiled.
Just as he was about to lose his mind completely and tell her he wanted to kiss her, he spotted the man stood next to her. The man she was smiling at. And holding hands with.
Without thinking, he dried his hands and grabbed a pen.
“Need a hand serving, Brian?”
Brian stared at him as though he’d never offered to help him before. Which he hadn’t, but that was beyond the point. “Not really-”
“How can I help you?” Hardy asked someone in the queue at random, blocking Brian’s answer.
Within a couple of minutes, in which Hardy worked harder to get the queue down than he had ever done so before, he was serving Miller and John.
(Jack? Jeff?)
She grinned at him and suddenly interacting with the general public didn’t seem so bad. “Hiya, Hardy. Working a Saturday?” She winced in sympathy.
“On threat of death, I assure you.”
“This is Joe, by the way.” She gestured to the man next to her. He looked… normal. Nice.
“Hi,” Joe said with a nod.
“What are you having?”
Joe gave Miller a significant look that meant nothing to Hardy and ordered for both of them. Once he’d passed the ticket along, Hardy dropped his pen and went back to the dirty mugs.
“See what you mean,” he heard Joe say behind him.
The couple sat on one of the sofas in the corner with their drinks and Hardy avoided spying on them as much as he could. It was made bloody difficult with Miller wearing a bright orange coat, but he managed not to stare at them for the duration of their visit.
From what he did see, he deduced that they were happy. Stable. There was none of the disgusting PDA of a new relationship, but there were still plenty of affectionate touches between them. Underneath the hollow sensation gnawing at his insides, Hardy supposed he was glad. If he didn’t have a chance with the woman of his pipedreams, then at least the man who did seemed decent and made her happy. With his luck, that was the most he could ask for.
The first proper day of summer that year brought everyone and their mother into the shop for iced drinks they barely understood and cost way more than their normal orders for half the liquid. Between that and the heat, less than halfway through his shift Hardy was about ready to walk out and give another career a shot. Anything else was starting to look better.
He was weighing up the pros and cons of becoming a Lady GaGa impersonator when someone familiar cleared their throat behind him.
His usual wry greeting died when he saw the look on Miller’s face. Normally when she came in before work, she’d be in normal clothes but her hair would be pinned back. Today, it didn’t look as though it had even been brushed. More worrying were the red circles around her eyes and distracted way she was studying the menu.
“Sorry,” she said with a crack in her voice. “I-I just can’t decide.”
She’d been coming into the shop for nearly four months and had so far only ordered two different drinks. Another customer came in, which only made her more panicky. When her bottom lip started quivering, Hardy stepped in.
“You know there’s a promotion on at the minute?”
“What?”
“Yeah, for the next twenty seconds you can get a mocha with whipped cream and an extra caramel shot for free.”
While he knew he was out of practise when it came to being nice to people, Hardy hadn’t realised just how badly. Rather than accept his offer, Miller glared at him.
“Don’t be nice to me. That’s not how this works.”
Hardy dropped his pen on the counter. “Do you want a bloody drink or not?”
“No!” Miller nearly yelled. “I want...” She frantically scanned what was left in the cabinet next to her. “That muffin.”
“Fine.” Hardy used tongs to retrieve the muffin, gripping so tightly he nearly squished it, slammed it on a plate and shoved it towards her.
With a huff, she dropped too much money on the counter, snatched the muffin from the plate and stalked off towards the furthest table from him. Hardy watched her go, regretting his temper immediately.
“Hey,” said the baffled customer still at the counter, “can I get that free mocha with-”
“No, I’m on break,” Hardy butted in without taking his eyes off Miller. “Brian - come and serve!” he called into the back as he removed his stupid apron and started making a drink with more sugar in it than was probably legal.
Once he’d finished making the damn drink, even adding chocolate sauce and sprinkles, under the hateful gaze of the customer he’d rejected and Brian, he stomped over to Miller. He placed the drink next to the pile of crumbs that seconds previously had been an entire muffin and dropped into the seat opposite her.
It took nearly two full minutes before either of them acknowledged they were sharing the table.
“You gonna drink that?” Hardy asked, nodding at the rapidly melting mountain of cream between them.
“Dunno. Are you going to keep being such a knob?”
Hardy sighed and tipped his head back to prevent himself saying something stupid like what was on his mind.
“I broke up with Joe.”
The pair of them finally made eye contact, but what Hardy saw broke his heart. The kind eyes that had made his existence bearable were swimming in tears and he had no idea what to do to help.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
There was a pause.
“A hug?”
“What is wrong with you?”
Seeing as he only had a couple of hours left of his shift, Hardy decided against answering that particular question. Instead, he tried to steer the conversation to more familiar territory.
“Have you not got work today?”
She shook her head. “Called in sick.”
Seeing her so broken, folded up in the seat, unable to keep her hands or eyes in one place, woke something in him he had nearly forgotten about. After nearly eighteen months of cordoning himself off, he wanted nothing more than to pull her close to him and shelter her from whatever life was throwing at her.
As she took a sip of her drink, he noticed her hands were shaking.
“You can’t let him do that.”
“What?”
“Take pieces of you with him.”
She put the mug down, a tiny crease in forehead deepening as she did so. “What are you talking about?”
Hardy’s jaw locked. The events that had destroyed him had been buried deep within what was left of him in the aftermath. It was the only part he had control of and he needed something to hold onto to keep himself from going into a tailspin. When he moved, he vowed no one would know what had made him leave his old home. It was fine if everyone thought he was a moody bastard, but them knowing he was bitter and disgraced on top of that was more than he could take.
Something about the way Miller was looking at him, with genuine interest and desperation, made him rethink.
“My ex,” he began, but stopped to clear his throat. “My ex-fiancee. She fucked something up at work for a quick shag.”
“With you?”
Hardy shook his head, suddenly very interested in his shoes. “I took the blame.”
The silence that followed wasn’t nearly as oppressive as he had expected it to be. In fact, he felt lighter somehow. Briefly he wondered if it was tactless to share his ghosts when Miller was still so fresh from her loss. She didn’t look offended and had said she didn’t want to talk about Joe. He hoped making her feel less alone would do some good, even if he was hardly a success story.
“You worked together?”
“Aye.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“So what was it you did before this?”
Against all the odds, the corner of Hardy’s mouth twitched. “I - er - I was a police officer.”
Miller nearly dropped her drink. “No! Really?”
“Uniform sergeant.” Hardy nodded as he crossed his arms. “Was being tipped for CID but... she lost evidence.” He shrugged, uncomfortable under her astonished gaze.
“You told them it was you? Knowing she’d cheated?”
He didn’t say anything and she didn’t ask him why. He had been asking himself for over a year now. He still wasn’t sure if it was a last ditch grand romantic gesture or an apology for not being better. He suspected it was nothing as calculated as either of those theories and was simply because he still loved her enough to want to protect her. The sympathetic look Miller was giving him made him wonder if he should have spent less time questioning his own actions and more questioning hers.
“I moved out. Of the flat and the city,” he clarified. “Lost my job. Lost just enough that she could keep everything.”
“So that’s how you ended up working in customer service?” Miller said with the first hint of a smile since she’d walked in. “I had been wondering.”
Hardy smiled wryly. “I take comfort in knowing the amount of caffeine and sugar I give some of these pricks will end up damaging their health in the long run.”
“You put chocolate sauce on my cream,” Miller pointed out with a frown.
“Yeah, but I made it with skimmed milk.”
“Bastard.”
Miller smiled at him, a small, fractured thing, and Hardy didn’t care that she was single or if he had a shot with her. All that mattered was she was hurt and he wished more than anything that she wasn’t.
She started coming in more frequently after that. Early mornings and late nights, doing paperwork or reading. It was strange walking through the door to find her already there, steadily making her way through all their cakes. A good kind of strange. He had to order more chocolate based snacks to keep up, but otherwise not much changed.
Brian made a few shitty comments about him clearing tables more often, but he hadn’t worked out a possible cause. Having a solid barrier between himself and the public wasn’t necessary when the public included her.
Most of the time he’d wait until Brian was sorting out the stock room or serving before going over to talk to Miller. Co-workers they may have been, but Hardy wouldn’t put it past Brian to start flirting with Miller if he learnt about Hardy’s… soft spot for her.
Once most of the customers were gone, Brian would rush into the back, under the guise of dealing with the safe and all the paperwork, leaving Hardy to clean. Before it pissed him off no end, but now Miller would be lost in her own world in the corner. With no other customers to chat with, she would concentrate on what was in front of her and often wouldn’t realise the place was closed until Hardy told her.
One night, when she looked especially pretty and had been happier than he’d seen in a while, Hardy let her sit until he was the only person left. He’d cleaned everything but her long-cold mug and even mopped. All that was left was turning the lights off and setting the alarm. He pulled his mac over his uniform and wished he didn’t have to disturb her.
“Either you’ve got to stay very still for the next six hours,” he called across the room, “or you have to leave.”
Her head whipped up from her book, reminding him of a meerkat. “What?”
“I’m locking up.”
She looked around at the chairs flipped on top of tables and hastily shoved her belongings into her bag. “Shit! Why didn’t you throw me out? Surely you aren’t allowed patrons in this late?”
Hardy snorted as he retrieved the keys from his pocket. “What were you going to do? Rob the place?”
She waited patiently outside while he set the alarm and he decided to not to guess why. After all, she could have just said her goodbyes and left.
“Which way are you heading?” she asked, zipping up her coat.
Hardy nodded to the left and she smiled.
“Me, too.”
They headed off in that direction. Hardy shoved his hands in his pockets, mentally planning out the route they were taking to work out where she might have been going.
“Sorry about staying so late.”
“No worry.”
“It’s just nice in there. Peaceful, you know? It doesn’t remind me of him,” she added quietly.
They crossed a road and Hardy glanced down at her. Whenever the subject of her ex was even touched upon she seemed to curl into herself. He hated it. She hadn’t mentioned what had broke them up, but from what she had said, Joe had turned out to be a nasty piece of work.
Hardy wasn’t sure if he wanted the full story or not.
The streets were quiet with only them and a handful of others heading home. Miller told him about her day, how she was going for a promotion and something funny the desk sergeant said that morning. Though he didn’t contribute much, he nodded in all the right places and she didn’t appear discouraged. It was nice, having her voice be the soundtrack to his journey home. It was a vast improvement on the usual silence.
As they walked and got closer to his destination, Hardy grew nervous. He had expected her to turn off at some point, but she was still with him. After she’d found out about his past, she hadn’t brought it up, understanding how painful it was for him. However, there was no way she could ignore it when he stopped with an awkward cough.
“This is me,” he said, not meeting her eye.
She looked up at the bus stop they were stood next to. A look of understanding ghosted over her face but she soon hid it. “Are they still running this late?”
“I can get the last one.”
“It doesn’t come for another half an hour.”
Hardy didn’t reply.
“Sod that. I’ll give you a lift.” Miller started walking again but Hardy stayed where he was.
If only he’d fought to keep the car after the break up. Not that he could afford to run it, but just to be able to save that bit of face would have been worth it.
“It’s fine,” he said, making her stop and face him.
She smiled. “I don’t mind.”
“It’s probably out of your way.”
“Like the bus doesn’t take you round the houses?”
“Seriously, it’s -”
“Just accept the bloody lift!”
Hardy swallowed what was left of his pride and nodded.
“Jesus Chri-” Miller sighed. “Come on, then.”
He traipses after her and, once in the car, mumbles out directions until she arrived at his flat. It wasn't until he was in bed that he realised he hadn’t thanked her.
Every Sunday night from then on, she was there. She even wiped a few tables down for him, even after he hid the cloths from her. The last hour of his shifts flew by as they chatted and bickered until he had to lock up.
Afterwards, they’d walk to her car and she’d drive him home. It was not until the sixth week of this that he stopped bringing change for the bus with him on Sundays.
Hardy wondered if all of that made them friends. It had been years since he’d had a friend without them being connected to his ex. Regardless, she was the closest he had and he was grateful even if he didn’t know how to show it.
One thing he was certain of, was that it was on one of these Sunday nights, when the impromptu goodwill gesture had long became routine, that he fell in love with Ellie Miller.
Even after Hardy’s revelation, nothing changed. He still made coffee. He was still rude to most customers. Miller still only ate cakes and drank the same two drinks. Life went on.
Unlike when he fell for his ex, Hardy had no urge to tell Miller. The fear of being burnt again was too great. He was happy with how things were. She was in his life, bemoaning her sister, being cute and generally making it better. If she were to walk out of the shop one day and never come back, he’d be disappointed, but his life wouldn’t crumble like last time.
He hoped it wouldn’t anyway.
It was on one of the days of the week he dreaded the most, when he had to work but knew Miller wouldn’t show up, that he rounded the corner by the shop to find a police car parked outside. Reflexes he’d feared he had lost kicked in and he jogged down the street towards the incident. It became clear what the issue was when he saw his boss talking to an officer and the front window smashed into the shop.
“Shit,” he breathed as Brian spotted him and ushered him over.
“Was like it when we got here,” he explained. “You spot anyone weird hanging around last night?”
Hardy shook his head. He was struggling more with seeing his past and present so clumsily melded together.
The shift the night before had been quieter than usual if anything and nothing stood out. Without thinking, he started compiling a list of people he had pissed off lately, as well as anything his co-workers had mentioned about having grudges.
As he was wondering if a customer could have taken their dislike of him to the point of vandalism, he glanced over at his boss and saw that it was Miller he was talking to.
Her expression only faltered for a moment before she went back to taking the statement.
Hardy didn’t have too long to watch how she conducted herself before he was pulled away by her colleague to give his own statement. From the little he had seen she went about it completely differently to him. While he would remain entirely neutral, she appeared to focus on reassuring and befriending the person she was talking to.
It didn’t take long for Hardy to go over the main points of the previous night. He knew the questions he was about to be asked after all. When the policeman commented that he had obviously done something similar before he tried to ignore the sting his words caused.
Once the interview was done, the policeman wandered over to the coffee shop’s owner, correctly sensing that Hardy wasn’t one for small talk. Almost immediately, Miller extracted herself from the conversation and came over to him.
“You all right?” she asked.
“I wasn’t even here.”
“I was just asking. Fucking hell.”
Hardy crossed his arms and reverted back to what felt comfortable. “Any suspects?”
“Not yet.” Miller sighed. “CCTV will hopefully help.”
“You don’t think it could be… you know?”
“No.”
“Your ex.”
Miller’s demeanour changed completely. She recoiled and her voice grew harsh. “No! What the hell?”
“You’re here a lot. Is this something he-”
“Drop it.”
“You have to consider-”
“I’ll consider what I bloody well please.”
“All right.”
They stayed silent, both avoiding looking at the other. The other copper assured Brian and his boss the shop could reopen as soon as the glass was cleaned up and Hardy couldn’t think why he presented it as good news.
“Take this,” Miller said, breaking him out of his thoughts.
He turned and saw she was scribbling something on the back of a Crimestoppers card. She handed it to him. He didn’t take it but could see what looked like a mobile number on the back.
“What’s that?”
She rolled her eyes. “My number. So you can let me know if you remember or learn anything new.”
“Aren’t I supposed to go through the proper channels?”
“I guess. But this would be quicker and I trust your opinion on what might be useful towards the investigation.”
He took the card and pocketed it, unable to help the buzz of excitement that went through him. Having Miller’s personal mobile number was something he knew he’d never have made happen naturally.
“And I suppose you could always ring me if you need a taxi,” she added with a grin.
“Do I get a discount with the card?”
She giggled but couldn’t reply as her colleague had called her over.
Later that night, after a couple of hours of having the same conversation about the smashed window with every customer he served, Hardy slumped against the wall by his locker. He pulled out his phone and the card he’d kept in his pocket and typed without thinking too hard.
Just remembered I hate working here so it might have been me who threw the brick.
It wasn’t for another hour that he felt the device vibrate in his pocket. He lied about fetching more milk so he could check it.
hardy? i’m not taking you into questioning so you can have the night off LOL x
He saved her number into his phone before replying.
My taxes pay your wages.
and my caffeine cravings pay yours x
Brian called him back and he went without any milk.
It didn’t take long for the CCTV to reveal is was a group of random kids that broke the window. Miller went against protocol to tell him unofficially before his boss was properly informed. It made him think that maybe she had been worried about it being her ex as well. Then again, it could have been for no other reason other than they were texting each other fairly frequently now.
It was weird and Hardy still wasn’t used to it after two weeks. For so long his phone had almost been an expensive clock and alarm, but now he had someone to use it to communicate with. After months of being angry with people at work checking their messages in customer areas, it was odd to then be doing it himself.
Sometimes she’d text him her order so it could be ready for her when she got there. A couple of times she would ask him to save her one of her favourite cakes for when she would be there that night. Most of the texts about nothing at all. Just asking him how he was. How his day was going.
Hardy didn’t quite know what to make of it all.
One morning he woke up to the sound of his text tone. Confused and disorientated, he eventually found the phone and saw it was only just gone five. If it had been anyone but Miller he would have turned the bloody thing off and gone back to sleep.
fancy meeting for a coffee? x
At this time?
the starbucks near you opens in half an hour x
He threw his arm over his eyes with a groan. His tired brain was trying to string together reasons she would be contacting him so early but he was still as good as asleep. The phone went off again.
i’ll pay x
Fine I’ll meet you there
In the half hour it took for him to get ready, Hardy realised that this would be the first time they would be seeing each other outside of the coffee shop. Admittedly, it would be at another coffee shop, but it was still her requesting to spend time with him beyond their usual routines.
In the middle of the night.
Whatever her reasoning, he was sure he would find out soon enough.
Wrapped up in his coat, he walked quickly to the Starbucks she had mentioned and was surprised to see she was already there, leaning against the wall outside.
“Miller,” he said in way of greeting.
“Hey. Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for waking me up.”
“What happened to Mr Who-Says-I-Sleep?”
Hardy grunted and shouldered open the door. He was determined not to let it show that he was pleased she’d remembered something he’d said.
The Starbucks looked like every other Starbucks in the world, but Hardy refrained from mentioning his observation to Miller. In the few seconds it had taken her to greet him and place their orders, he’d noticed how jittery she was under her usual smiley disposition.
As they waited for their drinks, Hardy watched the barista make Miller’s coffee.
“He’s steaming the milk too long,” he complained and Miller elbowed him.
“I think it’s amazing how polite he is,” she said loud enough for the idiot ruining her drink to hear. “And at first thing! You could learn something, you bloody misery.”
Once their drinks were finished, Hardy expected them to find one of the many empty seats, but Miller headed straight for the exit. They walked around in a companionable silence, sipping their drinks, and Hardy got the impression she was desperate to talk to him, but didn’t know where to start.
Eventually, they hit the sea front and Hardy sat on a bench facing away from the dark water. Miller hesitated before joining him, her cup cradled in her hands and hair falling in her face.
Even in the fledgling light of the dawn he could see how upset she was.
“Are you going to explain why we’re here any time soon?” he asked and she frowned at him.
“I am sorry for waking you up.” She flashed him a smile but it didn’t last long. “I didn’t realise what time it was.”
“How?”
“I’d just finished work so-”
Hardy sat forward. “Have you been to bed yet? Have you eaten?”
“Shut up.” She slouched down on the bench and avoided looking at him. “It was just a bad shift.”
Sipping his drink, Hardy remembered bad shifts as a copper. He could only recall a couple that would have driven him to dragging someone out of bed when he was clearly exhausted himself.
“What happened?”
Miller sniffed. “Serious sexual assault,” she said as though she was reading it from a handbook. “I was first on scene.”
“Shit.”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“I know.”
“But...” Her bottom lip wobbled dangerously. “But I can’t… not. You know? It’s been hours and it’s all I can think about. It didn’t even happen to me!”
Unsure of what else he could do, Hardy moved marginally closer to her and put his arm along the back of the bench. The first time he’d had to deal with something similar he had gone to clear his head and didn’t come back for hours without even realising.
“I’ve never understood how people could do these things,” he said.
“Humanity keeps finding new ways to let us down. God, I sound like you.” Miller laughed humourlessly.
“You’ve just had a bad day.”
“No shit.”
“Think about something positive.”
She levelled him with a glare. “Such as?”
“Pffffft - I don’t fucking-” Hardy sat back and cast around for something nice about life. It was something he struggled with at the best of times. The ever growing glow along the horizon reminded him that he could have been in bed. “Rainbows?”
“Rainbows.”
“Sunrises?”
Miller stared at him before laughing “You’re shit at this. You are the worst person I could have called.”
“Then why did you?”
Somewhere between his brain and his mouth his words had morphed from nettled to something else. Something gentle and quiet. Something that made Miller do a double take and left her speechless. He couldn’t blame her in the slightest. Any follow up, whether it was to backtrack or distract or probe, was far out of his grasp.
He couldn’t even kick himself when he desperately wanted to know the answer. Judging by the stunned expression Miller was wearing she was in a similar place.
But then slowly, so slowly, she leant closer to him. Her traitorous gaze dropped to his mouth before darting back to safety. Hardy waited, not daring to believe that it was real, knowing it wouldn’t be the first time he’d misread a situation.
Then her hand, warm from her cup, was on his cheek and he dared to think he could be so lucky. He knew on some level that it was only so hot because of her coffee, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was always like that. That everything she touched was warmer because of her proximity.
It was that that drew him in until their lips met.
Even though he hated how he was impeded by his cup, the feel of her fingers slipping over his beard into his hair more than made up for it. It had been so long since he’d been like this with someone that he had forgotten how amazing it felt to share himself and be relied upon and touched like he meant something.
He broke the kiss but used his free hand, cupped around the back of her neck, to keep her close enough that their noses still touched.
“Alec,” he breathed against her lips.
He took some pride in how many blinks it took Miller to put together a response. “What?”
“My name. It’s Alec.”
“Like Baldwin?”
She grinned. He glared. It was just like old times, but he could make out the individual freckles on her cheeks.
“Alec,” she tested. “Al-lec. Alec. Hmm. Think I prefer Hardy.”
“That’s fine by me, Miller.”
The blinding light of the sunrise was still visible even through his closed eyelids as he kissed her again. Hardy hoped that no matter what happened, he would remember this new day as one of the best of his life.