Page 22 of What They Say

“Not at all,” she laughed softly, cocking a hip out. “I’m Kath Daniels, and I’d be happy to exchange numbers with you.” While she pulled a shot and steamed milk, she snuck glances at him. He wasn’t fidgeting or trying to impress her. He just stood there, calm and steady, watching her work like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

She slid the latte across the counter. “Here you go. It’s our house special. If you hate it, I’ll make you something else.”

Chase took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “This is really good.”

They fell into easy conversation while she worked the counter between customers. He told her about rehearsal that morning, how the new songs were starting to feel like something real. She told him about a nightmare shift yesterday where a customer had thrown coffee at her because his oat milk wasn’t “oaty enough.”

At one point, he leaned on the counter and asked, “You ever take that bike out for fun? Not just commuting?”

Kath hesitated. “Sometimes. Why?”

“I was thinking...if you’re free tomorrow afternoon, maybe we could ride somewhere. I’ve got my truck, and we could take that, but I don’t mind riding behind you. That bike’s your baby. I get it. My truck’s mine. I don’t let just anyone drive it either.”

Kath blinked. She’d expected that most guys would be weird about riding passenger on a woman’s bike. Ego stuff. But Chase just looked at her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re serious?” she asked.

“Dead serious.” He smiled that quiet smile again. “No pressure. Just riding. Talking. Whatever you want.”

She studied him for a long moment, waiting for the usual red flags that came along with the too-slick line, the hidden expectation. They didn’t come.

For the first time in forever, the fear that usually sat heavy in her chest was quieter.

“Okay,” she said before she could overthink it. “Tomorrow. I get off at three. Meet me here?”

Chase’s whole face lit up. “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

He stayed a little longer, finishing his coffee while the conversation drifted deeper. Between orders, Kath found herself pulling out her phone and opening the notes app before she could stop herself.

“I don’t usually show these to anyone,” she said, cheeks warming as she slid the phone across the counter. “But...this one’s been stuck in my head since the other day.”

Chase read the lines silently, his expression softening.

Boy with quiet eyes and storms inside his name

Sat across cheap coffee like he already knew the game

Didn’t try to own me, didn’t try to play

Just looked at me like maybe I was worth the stay

He looked up, gray eyes warm and wondering. “That’s really good, Kath. Hits right in the chest.”

She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious, but the way he said it made her want to keep talking. “It’s nothing finished. Just...feelings.”

Chase was quiet for a moment, turning the mug in his hands. “I get that. Sometimes the music feels like the only honest thing I’ve got.” He hesitated, then added softly, “I’ve been avoiding something big with my dad. The club. He’s the president of the Rebel Wayfarers. I told him I wanted to prospect a couple years ago, and he laughed me off, basically said I wasn’t old enough to know what I was asking. Now...I find myself backing away, because I’m not even sure I want the patch now. Music feels more like it’s my true thing. But part of me still worries I’m letting him down.”

The admission hung between them, raw and unexpected. Kath felt a strange rush of closeness. He wasn’t just some confident musician. He was carrying the weight of his own demons, just like her.

“I know that feeling,” she said quietly. “Trying to figure out who you are when everyone else already has an idea of what you should be.”

Their eyes met across the counter, the busy coffee shop fading for a moment into something quieter, more intimate. Chase’s small smile returned, now turning tender and grateful.

“Yeah,” he said. “Exactly.”

He finally pushed his empty mug across the counter with a regretful “I gotta go.” He gave her one last look over his shoulder at the door. No swagger. No hungry stare that made her want to keep the counter between them. Just a warm, steady gaze that lingered like he was memorizing the moment, his expression almost wondering, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was walking away either.

Kath watched him go, arms wrapped tight around her middle, fingers pressing into the fabric of her apron. The bell above the door gave its cheerful little jingle, and then he was gone, the afternoon light catching his shoulders for one last second before the glass swung shut.