Savior Complex: A Small Town Love Triangle Romance

“Let’s make this happen.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nina

I sit in my car at Insomniacs, the last place I want to be for the last reason I want to be here. I’m a few minutes late, but not in any hurry.

I look at my phone, which I’d finally charged a few days ago after Maren and Claire left the house. When it powered up, I had a voicemail from my mom, a few spam texts, and a curt message from Jordy.

Jordy: Meet me at Insomniacs on Wednesday at 1 p.m. I need to talk with you.

She knows. That’s the only thing I can think of. While I want so badly to ignore it, just like I’ve ignored everyone else, I just can’t. If she’s coming for the truth, I need to put my big girl pants on and fess up.

I mean, it’s not like I can ruin a relationship that’s already burned to a crisp.

I take a few more moments, waiting just long enough to be late, but not so late she thinks I’m not coming. Then I trudge my way to the café.

The place hasn’t changed much from when Maren and I worked here. The layout is still the same, with blonde tables and matching chairs spaced generously from each other, and high ceilings with exposed pipes. The minimalist industrial look gives it a trendy vibe. Folk indie music plays low throughout the shop, a mix of Novo Amor, Bon Iver, the Nationals, and other similar bands that are a lot like ones we used to play. I don’t know anyone behind the counter, but that’s cool. I do notice how the manager is ringing people up during this rush hour, something Susan never did for us. She’d rather watch while we drowned, or just pretend it wasn’t happening.

I scan the shop until I finally find Jordy sitting at a table with Brayden beside her. I freeze where I am, the air in the shop feeling shallow as I run through scenarios of what’s about to happen, and I come to only one conclusion…

She wants to save the effort by killing us both at the same time.

I consider turning around and booking it to my car, but she looks up at the same time I start to turn and raises a hand in greeting. Brayden looks up too, and the expression on his face is grim, like he doesn’t want to be there either. But Jordy looks almost relieved I’m here, which is a bit confusing.

I approach the table, and she points to a morning bun and a cup of something at the space in front of an empty chair.

“The dirty chai might be lukewarm,” she apologizes. “I ordered it fifteen minutes ago.”

But you were late, I read in her unspoken words. I take the seat and sip the latte. It’s just warm, but still good. “Thank you. I love dirty chais,” I say.

“I remember,” she says, followed by a nervous laugh. “You used to get them all the time when Nanna took us out.”

“At Jaya Java,” I say, the memory dislodging from a hidden corner of my mind. Nanna used to take us there every Sunday after church because she loved their samosas. But I loved their chai, which was so different from the sugary chai lattes you find at corporate coffee shops. At Jaya Java, they made their chai teas with spices like ginger, cardamon, and vanilla, cut with oat milk and lightly sweetened with honey. I always asked for a shot of espresso with mine, inspired by some of the girls at school who giggled about ordering dirty chais at Starbucks. At Jaya Java, they laughed too, but it soon made its way to the menu.

Drinking this one, I realize I inspired it as well. When I’d arrived at Insomniacs, their version of a dirty chai was that sugary crap in a container mixed with steam milk. The manager before Susan used to listen to our suggestions, though, and liked my idea of an authentic chai drink on the menu. As I sip it now, I taste the same ginger and cardamon, creamy oat milk, and a touch of honey, all enhanced with a bold shot of espresso. Even cold, it’s delicious.

Meanwhile, Jordy is fumbling with her napkin. Beside her, Brayden keeps averting his eyes every time I look in his direction. I’m sitting here drinking a chai latte as if this is social hour, still not quite sure why I’m here, and still kind of nervous that this has to do with Brayden.

“So…” I say, now picking at my morning bun.

“Uh, yeah. I wanted to apologize.” She glances at Brayden, as if he’s going to help her out here, but he’s busy looking everywhere but at her.

“About the house,” I say, because of course it’s about the house. I’m relieved it’s about the house.

“Yeah, I overstepped,” she says.

“You did,” I agree. But now that I’ve spent weeks in this house, thinking about what I did to her, I am having the hardest time being mad at her. “It’s fine, I’m over it.” I dismiss it with a wave of my hand, while her eyes widen.

“No, I’m serious. I mean, it does look amazing though, you have to admit.”

“Jordy.”

The one word from Brayden, and Jordy’s smile evaporates. She glares at him, but then seems to compose herself quickly.

“No, really, it’s fine,” I insist. “I mean, it’s not even close to my style. But it did need a complete makeover, something that didn’t look so…Nanna Dot.”

Jordy snorts. “You did still have that crocheted doily blanket on the back of the couch, both straight out of the seventies. It’s like she thought muted paisley and neon flowers went together.”