Page 23 of What They Say

She stayed rooted behind the counter, the spot where he’d leaned appearing to hold the faint impression of his presence. For a moment, the coffee shop felt too quiet, too empty. She wanted to believe this could be different—that quiet gray eyes and patient smiles didn’t always come with an expiration date. She wanted to believe she could be different. Not the girl who watched her mother chase sparks until they burned everything down. Not someone who mistook attention for safety.

But as she picked up the rag and started wiping down the counter again, using those slow, methodical circles over the same spot, her mother’s face flashed sharp and uninvited behind her eyes. Laughing too loud at some new man’s joke in the kitchen, throwing clothes into a duffel bag while promising Kath and Maudie that this time it would be forever. The slam of the screen door. The silence that always followed. She’d been leaving them since Maudie was twelve and Kath was nine. Way too young to learn how to get along in the world without an adult around.

Kath closed her eyes, the rag stilling in her hand. Please don’t let me be like her. The prayer rose up raw and desperate, lodged somewhere between her ribs and her throat.

She opened her eyes and looked at the empty spot where Chase had been standing. The faint ring of condensation from his mug was already drying on the counter. She blew out a long, shaky breath and rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen the knot that had settled there. The fear still hummed underneath her skin, familiar and heavy—but for now, at least, it didn’t feel quite as loud as the quiet, stubborn spark of hope flickering beside it.

***

After her shift finally ended and she arrived home to find the house was blessedly quiet, Kath shut herself in her room. She kicked the door closed with her heel, dropped her bag, and immediately started peeling off her jeans. The denim hit the floor with a soft thud.

Pants off. Always.

Something about the cool air on her legs and the freedom of movement helped the words flow. She’d discovered the quirk years ago during one of Mom’s loud, chaotic nights—sitting cross-legged on her bed in just a T-shirt, scribbling furiously while the world outside her door fell apart. It had stuck.

Kath climbed onto her bed in her tank top and underwear, notebook open on her lap, guitar pick she used as a bookmark tucked between the pages. She tapped the pen against her lip, then started writing, the words coming easier now that the day’s nerves had settled.

Boy with quiet eyes and storms inside his name...

She smiled to herself, legs stretched out, toes wiggling absently as another line took shape. No one else ever had to know about the pants thing. It was hers. A tiny, silly, private ritual that made the scary act of creating feel a little safer.

For now, in the quiet of her room, in the afterglow of the conversation with Chase, it was more than enough.

***

Chase

Later that evening, the house behind the garage smelled like garlic, tomatoes, and something warm and savory that made Chase’s stomach growl the second he walked through the back door. Eddie was at the stove, stirring a big pot of sauce with one hand while humming an old country song under her breath. Bear sat at the kitchen table, nursing a beer and flipping through a motorcycle magazine.

“Perfect timing,” Eddie called without turning around. “Wash up and sit down. Lasagna’s almost ready.”

Chase hesitated in the doorway for a second, still not quite used to being included like this. Back with Carrie, meals had been whatever he could scrounge—cereal, leftover takeout, or nothing at all. Here, dinner was a real thing. A table. Actual plates. People who cared enough to expect him to show up.

He washed his hands at the sink and slid into his usual chair. How weird that I have a usual chair. Bear gave him a nod, the kind that said “Good to see you, kid” without any words wasted.

Eddie set a heaping plate in front of him—layers of pasta, meat, cheese, and sauce that smelled like heaven. “Eat up. You’re still growing, and all that guitar playing burns calories.”

Chase dug in, the first bite making him close his eyes for a second. “This is amazing,” he mumbled around a mouthful.

Eddie laughed, warm and bright, as she sat down with her own plate. “Flattery will get you seconds, Chase. Don’t think I didn’t see you out there helping Bear with that bike earlier. You’re earning your keep.”

Bear grunted in agreement, but there was a hint of a smile under his beard. “Kid’s got good hands. Steady. Listens better than half the prospects I’ve trained.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the clink of forks and the low hum of the fridge the only sounds. It felt normal. Safe. Chase hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that until it was handed to him without strings.

Eddie took a sip of her iced tea and leaned back, eyes sparkling with mischief. “So. Bear mentioned you met a girl on that blue-and-white custom I told him not to sell too fast.”

Chase nearly choked on his lasagna. Heat crawled up his neck. “It’s not—I mean, we just talked. At the diner.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie’s grin widened. “And how many times have you ‘just talked’ to girls who ride Bear’s bikes? Because from what I hear, you’ve been smiling more this week than the last two months combined.”

Bear chuckled deeply, not even trying to hide it. “Leave the boy alone, woman. He’s got enough on his plate without you matchmaking.”

“I’m not matchmaking,” Eddie protested innocently. “I’m just saying...Kath seems like a good one. Tough. Independent. Rides like she means it. You could do a lot worse, Chase.”

Chase rubbed the back of his neck, fighting a reluctant smile. “She’s different. Makes me feel like I don’t have to be anyone else when I’m talking to her. Not Mason’s kid. Not the new guy trying to prove something. Just me.”

Eddie’s expression softened, all teasing gone. “That’s a rare thing. Hold on to it.” She reached over and squeezed his forearm. “And bring her around sometime. I make a mean apple pie, and I’d love to meet the girl who’s got you grinning at your phone like a fool.”