Grandma didn’t fuss. She simply held my hand tighter, her touch full of love and quiet strength. “You don’t have to decide anything today. You don’t have to call him today. But remember this, he made a real mistake. A painful one. But a mistake isn’t the whole man. The man who watched you run Mystery Night like you hung the moon, the man who claimed you in front of abar full of strangers, the man with your books on his dresser and who fell in love with you with your cats at his feet, that man is real too. The hurt and the love both exist. You’re allowed to feel every bit of both.”
She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her voice dropping to a tender whisper. “And sweetheart? From what Paige saw, he misses you just as fiercely as you miss him right now. I’d bet on that.”
I let out a shaky little laugh through the tears, small and broken but genuine. “I didn’t confide in him either,” I admitted. “I never told him how much Eric scared me, that it kept me up at night. Or how long he’d been after me. He ended up talking about it with Paige. This is my fault, too. I kind of did the same thing.”
“It’s going to be okay. You know that, right?” She stood eventually, brushing off her coat with a light, graceful motion. “Take your time, my darling. But don’t let time make the decision for you.”
“Okay,” I whispered, knowing I needed to talk this through with him.
She pulled me into one last hug, cradling the back of my head like she had when I was small. “I love you more than all the books in this shop put together.”
“I love you too, Grandma,” I whispered, my voice thick.
“Call your sisters. They’re worried sick.”
“I will. Today.”
She gave me one final warm, knowing smile—the kind that wrapped around my heart like a soft blanket—then turned and left. The bell chimed softly behind her, leaving the shop in peaceful quiet once more.
I stayed in the reading nook for a long while, the muffin half-eaten. The yearning for Jasper sat heavy in my chest, but alongside it now was a fragile thread of clarity.
I wasn’t ready to drive to the cabin yet.
But I was closer.
And when I was ready, I would go to him—not just with the hurt, but with the love that refused to let go.
Chapter 34
Cara
It was finally evening, and I was closing up the shop. The day had passed in a hush—only a handful of customers, the last a woman who lingered nearly an hour among the fiction shelves before choosing a single paperback with the quiet care of someone selecting a fine wine. I had wrapped it in brown paper for her, told her I hoped she enjoyed it, and then the shop had fallen silent once more.
I was behind the counter, wiping the wood in slow circles, when the door opened.
I looked up, and my hands stopped moving.
Jasper.
The cloth stayed where it was, pressed against the counter, and I stood there for a second in which my body seemed to process him before my brain did. I took a full stop, catching my breath. With the ache of seeing someone you love and are angry at and have missed with an intensity that surprised you, all at the same time. Three days. It had been three days, and I had rehearsed this moment approximately forty times, and now that it was here, I couldn’t locate a single word I’d prepared.
He stood in the doorway holding flowers.
Not the loose wildflower bunches he usually brought, wrapped casually in paper. These were deliberate—lush white blooms laced with soft green, long stems gathered with intention, a bouquet a man drives across town to a real florist for. He held them at his side, not yet offered, as if they were still part of the weight he was carrying. His jacket hung open, and his face looked like sleep had abandoned him days ago. I recognized that look because I had been wearing a version of it myself, and something in my chest pulled hard toward him before I could stop it.
I made myself stay where I was.
He hadn’t called. He hadn’t texted. He had simply walked in at five-thirty on a weekday night.
I set the cloth down.
He drew a slow breath, the sound rough in the quiet shop. “I couldn’t give it another day. I tried, Cara. I swear I did. I sat in the cabin staring at the chair you’d been in, and I couldn’t face another night like that. If you need me to leave, I will. But I needed to come here first. I needed to say some things.”
I didn’t tell him to stay. I didn’t tell him to go. I simply stood behind the counter as the evening light slanted through the front window, warm gold brushing the shelves, and let the silence stretch between us.
“Can I talk?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
