Be clear, I reminded myself.Kind, but clear. Don’t leave the door open.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was low and careful.
“Hi.”
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked back slightly on his heels, the gravel crunching softly beneath him. His breath misted faintly in the cold. He glanced past me toward the Coffee Cabin, then back. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
He exhaled, his shoulders dropping slightly, like he was releasing something he’d been holding in the car. “I came on too strong last night,” he said. “I’ll admit that.” The words had the smoothness of something rehearsed—not dishonest exactly, but prepared. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that, and I’m sorry.”
I nodded once, keeping my voice even. “Yeah. It was a lot.”
He winced, quick and controlled. “I just—” He exhaled. “I thought maybe I was misreading things.”
I looked at him steadily. His eyes searched my face for something he could work with, a small opening he could ease back through. I’d seen it enough by now to recognize it.Don’t give him one, I thought.This is the part where you don’t give him one.
“I don’t think you misread anything,” I said carefully. “I’m just not in a place where I want to date anyone right now.” Thewords felt true when I said them—the shop, the events, the quiet, careful rebuilding of a life that finally felt like mine. Dating felt like something that would pull me sideways. “I’ve got a lot going on with the shop. Mystery Night, what comes after it, inventory, all of it. I need to keep my focus there for a while.”
Something moved across his face. He was listening, but he was also evaluating—I could feel him turning the words over, looking for the angle. “That makes sense,” he said. Too quickly, too smoothly. “Yeah. I get that. The timing isn’t right. I get it.”
“Exactly.” I didn’t step through the door. “I’m glad we talked,” I said.
He looked at me for a moment longer. Then he pushed off his heels, boots scraping against the gravel, and his expression settled into something pleasant and self-possessed. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.” He glanced past me toward the Coffee Cabin. “I’ll let you get back to your sisters.” A small, easy smile. “I’ll see you around, Cara.”
“See you,” I said.
He walked back to his car, his shoulders a little stiffer than when he’d arrived, his footsteps heavier on the gravel. I stood there for a moment and let the cool air move over me. The relief was real.
Lucy’s expression when I slid back onto the stool was the combination of curiosity and restraint she deployed when she was trying very hard not to lead with the questions she most wanted to ask. “Well?” she said.
“He apologized.” I picked up my cup. Still warm. “I told him I wasn’t looking to date anyone right now—again.”
Lucy’s brows lifted. “And?”
“And I think we’re good.” I turned the cup slowly in my hands. “He heard me. I think.”
She didn’t answer right away, studying me over the rim of her own cup with that quiet, careful attention that meant she wasdeciding how much to push. Piper’s hand found my arm again, brief and warm.
“Are you okay?” Piper asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Really. It’s handled.” I paused. “It needed to be done.”
Lucy made a quiet sound that wasn’t quite agreement and wasn’t quite disagreement. “Okay,” she said finally. “Good.” She picked up her cup. Set it back down. Looked at me sideways. “So. Back to Jasper.”
I dropped my head. “Lucy.”
“I’m just saying.” She spread her hands. “The timing seems?—”
“Don’t.”
“—fortuitous.”
“I’m leaving,” I said, without moving.
Piper smiled into her coffee. Eliza slid a fresh pastry onto the counter in front of me without a word.
I picked it up, broke off a piece, and let the morning settle back around us—the hiss of the machine, the low voices from the drive-up lane, the cool air moving through from the open window. Lucy bumped her shoulder lightly against mine and left it there, and I let her, and for a little while, nobody said anything at all.
