I grabbed my keys, stepped out into the cold, and shut the door behind me.
Inside, everything was exactly where I’d left it. Nothing had changed.
But I was starting to want things again, and I had a feeling that wanting Cara was going to be harder to outrun than anything I’d left behind.
Chapter 7
Cara
Midmorning settled into Pine & Pages—steady and familiar, the quiet stretch between early errands and the lunch crowd. I moved through the shop on autopilot, answering questions, ringing up paperbacks, recommending titles I’d loved for years. This part of my day usually grounded me. Today, my thoughts kept wandering anyway.
The night before lingered in small flashes—the Twilight Tavern’s warm light, Jasper’s surprised smile, the way our conversation had felt unfinished even though it had been perfectly normal. Nothing had happened. I knew that. And yet my brain insisted on replaying it like it was a paragraph I hadn’t quite parsed correctly.
I straightened a stack of books near the front window and glanced outside. Honeybrook Hollow moved past in its usual rhythm—someone crossing the street with a coffee, Piper’s bakery already busy across the way.
Focus.
My phone buzzed against the counter, and I was thankful for the distraction. Eric Whitmore, the old high school classmate I’d gone to dinner with. Of course. As if I wasn’t already anemotional mess? I’d told him we could be friends, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to start texting me.
Eric: Morning. I was thinking about what you said about being friends. I’m glad we reconnected, and I saw your sign—I’ll see you on Mystery Night.
I stared at the message. I’d been clear. Kind, yes, but clear. I’d even gone over the conversation afterward, reassuring myself I hadn’t left anything open-ended. Apparently, I’d been wrong. Maybe I should have ghosted him. Or haunted him, as my grandma had called it.
I didn’t respond. I’d probably been too nice before—Grandma was right about that. I tried not to be a pushover, but the fact that I’d rather die than hurt someone’s feelings had been a recurring problem in my life. I turned back to the window and watched the street for a moment longer than I needed to, like maybe focusing on something else would knock my thoughts back into order. I set the phone face down and went back to adjusting a display, irritation buzzing just under my skin.
Jasper was coming to Mystery Night.
The thought slipped in without permission, settling somewhere just under everything else. Not distracting enough to derail me, but present in a way I couldn’t ignore. He hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t made it sound like a favor. Just… said yes. I picked up another book, smoothing my thumb over the cover before setting it into place. It didn’t mean anything. People came to things like this all the time. It wasn’t personal. Except it felt a little personal.
I exhaled slowly and forced my attention back to the table in front of me.
The door opened just as I finished stacking the new arrivals on the front display. I didn’t look up right away. Midday had been steady—nothing overwhelming, just enough people drifting in and out to keep me moving. I adjusted the top book so the cover sat flush with the others, then reached for the next one.
“Cara.”
My hand stilled.
Eric stood just inside the door, one hand still resting on it like he’d pushed it open and decided to linger there, watching me for a second before stepping all the way in. He smiled when I looked up, easy and unhurried, like I’d been expecting him.
I needed a second that I didn’t get. He’d texted me that morning, and now he was here, in my shop, in the middle of the day. I was aware of the counter between us and was glad for the separation. “Hey,” I said, and was proud of how even it came out.
He let the door swing shut and walked over, his gaze moving around the shop before settling back on me with the ease of someone who’d decided in advance that he was welcome. “This place looks good.”
“Thanks.”
“It always did, back when your grandfather ran it,” he said. “But you made it better.” His eyes stayed on mine longer than they needed to. “You always made things better.”
I set down the book in my hand and stepped around the display, putting a little more space between us. “What can I help you with?”
He smiled at that, as if the question amused him. “Do I need a reason?”
“I guess not,” I said. “But it helps.”
“Fair enough.” He closed the distance I’d just made, easy about it, like he hadn’t noticed. He leaned a hand on the edge of the display. “I was in the area.”
“You’re always in the area lately.”
“Honeybrook Hollow is a small town.” He shrugged, still smiling. “Hard to be far from anything.” He tilted his head slightly. “You didn’t text back.”
