Before The Coffee Gets Cold Series Order Novels & Stories

~~Stephanie First thought of the morning? Coffee. Whoever brewed the first coffee beans are my absolute favorite people. I drink coffee every morning. At least 5 cups. Sometimes even one in the afternoon. The packhouse is cold this morning. It's always cold to me though. All the shifters run hot so they have a huge AC system that keeps the house at subzero temperatures. The thermostat reads 62. 62? That's not even normal. How does this AC system even keep up?

Blue. He shook his head. Confusion. "He's shy," Elion told the camera quickly. "It's a special memory. We're keeping that one for us." "Tell them about the coffee!" Mira hissed from behind the camera. "Right," Elion said. "The coffee. He brought me coffee. Two sugars. Oat milk." Cale nodded eagerly. Coffee. He remembered the coffee. That was procedural data. "He knew my order before I told him," Elion said. "Because he pays attention."

Chapter 53: Unspoken Debts Clara The coffee in my ceramic cup had gone completely lukewarm, but I couldn't bring myself to set it down. It was my shield, the only thing keeping my hands steady as the dim amber lights of the kitchen began to blend with the pale, gray hues of the breaking dawn outside.

Afterward, I went straight to the cupboard to brew his drink. I reached for a mug and put in two spoonfuls of ground coffee. I poured in the boiling water; the scent spread instantly—bitter, strong, but with a warmth like a hug. I stirred it slowly, watching the steam. No milk, no sugar. Just black. Just like the things we never talk about. I carefully placed the mug on the tray. I wiped the edges to make sure it was perfect. I climbed the stairs slowly, and when I reached the door, I took a deep breath before opening it.

The coffee in front of me had gone entirely cold. A thin, dark film had formed over the surface, mirroring the bleakness tightening in my gut. Not that I’d had a single chance to drink it. We had broken away from my mother’s office before she could return, Adrian silently steering me by the small of my back out to his sleek, tinted luxury vehicle and driving us to a secluded high-end cafe just blocks away from the campus. He had ordered for us, but the porcelain cup remained untouched. My hands were shaking far too violently to lift it without spilling.

Scarlett's POV I was still sitting on the bottom step when I heard the first set of footsteps on the stairs. I stood up fast, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and walked into the kitchen before either of them could see me on the floor. I turned on the faucet and let the cold water run over my wrists until the skin went numb. The coffee Spencer had made was still sitting on the counter, half-cold, the dark surface reflecting the overhead light. I poured it down the sink. The smell of it made the empty space near the stove feel sharper. I started a fresh pot because the silence needed something ordinary to fill it.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, mixed with something warm and familiar-eggs, maybe toast. When she entered the kitchen, Aaron was leaning against the counter, his back to her as he poured coffee into two mugs. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was still slightly tousled from sleep. He must have sensed her presence because he turned, his sharp blue eyes softening when they met hers. “Good morning,” he said, offering her a small smile. “I hope you like your coffee strong because I might have overdone it.” Lily’s lips twitched into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t weighed down by everything else. “Strong is fine. Wher

She gleefully clapped her hands together as she took in the sight of all the comfy chairs and intricate stands containing tea-time snacks. She was so excited that almost all of her walls fell as she eagerly dragged me along with her by the hand to one of the back walls of the bookshelves. "I-I h-heard that this café was able to g-get a-access to n-new books before t-they were even officially a-announced to t-the public a-and it's a-actually t-true." She had a big bright smile on her lips as she wobbly reached up for one of the higher shelves, trying to reach for one of the thick books resting up there. "I-I w-was reading t-this s-series r-recently, and it e-ended on a c-cliffhanger, which m-

CHAPTER 71 Cassandra sat on one of the wooden benches facing a small pond in the city park. The cold air seeped through the gaps in her blue wool sweater, but she didn’t mind. Snow began to fall gently, decorating her loose black hair. She held a cup of hot coffee she had just bought from a nearby shop, the first sip soothing her throat. That day felt like a pause in her tumultuous life.

My order — oat milk, one sugar, the medium roast — in a cup with my name written on it in handwriting that is not Priya's and not Marcus's and is, I realize after a moment of staring at it, very familiar. I look around the floor. Serena is at her desk across the room, already on a call. The rest of the Vale team are at their stations. No one is watching me discover the coffee. No one is waiting for a reaction. I sit down. I pick up the cup. I drink it and I do not say anything to anyone because acknowledging it would require deciding what it means, and I am not ready to do that at eight forty-five in the morning. It happens again on Friday.