The small kitchen was bathed in the soft, golden light of a single overhead lamp. Cal stood at the counter, methodically grinding coffee beans by hand, the rhythmic sound soothing his frayed nerves. Across from him, Amber sat at the tiny kitchen table, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her coffee cup as she watched him work.
"You know, I didn't peg you as a coffee enthusiast," she said lightly, her voice breaking the comfortable silence.
Cal shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "My dad and I used to make coffee every morning before my mom went to work."
Amber raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "What did she do?"
Cal hesitated for a moment, his eyes distant as he scooped the freshly ground coffee into the machine. "She was a nurse. Worked at Bellevue Hospital."
Amber's expression softened. "That's a tough job."
"Yeah," Cal murmured, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "She loved it, though. She used to tell us stories about her patients, the things she saw. It was hard work, but she was proud of what she did."
Amber smiled, her gaze lingering on him. "It sounds like she was an amazing woman."
Cal nodded, his fingers tightening around the handle of the coffee pot as he poured the water. "She was."
Amber noticed the tinge of sadness in his voice, the way his shoulders tensed as he spoke. She hesitated, then asked gently, "What happened to them?"
Cal stilled, the room growing quiet except for the soft drip of the coffee maker. He took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the dark liquid filling the pot. "They… they're gone."
Amber's heart ached at the raw pain in his voice. "I'm sorry," she said softly, reaching out as if to comfort him, but stopping herself.
Cal shook his head, a faint, bitter smile on his lips. "It's okay. It was a long time ago."
He busied himself with the coffee, the silence between them stretching out. Amber watched him, her heart heavy with sympathy and admiration. He was opening up, little by little, showing her the cracks beneath the armor he wore so well. She couldn't help but feel a deep sadness from him, and what felt like flickering hope.
Finally, he turned back to her, sliding a cup of freshly brewed coffee across the table. "Here. Try this."
Amber took a tentative sip, her eyes widening in surprise. "Wow, this is really good."
Cal shrugged, leaning against the counter. "My dad used to say you could tell a lot about a person by the way they made their coffee."
Amber chuckled, warmth spreading through her chest. "Well, in that case, I'd say you're a pretty decent guy."
Cal's lips quirked up in a small smile, his eyes meeting hers for a brief, unguarded moment. "Don't get used to it."
Amber laughed softly, shaking her head. "I won't."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping their coffee. It was a small, simple moment, but it felt like something more—a tentative step toward trust, toward understanding.
"I've been scouting some hotspots for this 'syndicate'," Amber said after a while, her voice breaking the quiet. "There are a few places I want to check out before I head to class tomorrow. See if I can pick up on anything."
Cal raised an eyebrow. "Class?"
Amber nodded, her eyes lighting up with determination. "Yeah, I'm training to be an EMT. Figured it's a good way to help people, even if I can't be out there fighting like you."
Cal's expression softened. "That's a good idea. Just… be careful, okay?"
She nodded, her gaze meeting his. "I will."
They lapsed into silence again, the weight of their discoveries hanging over them. There were still so many questions, so many pieces of the puzzle they didn't have.