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Javi. She hadn’t even seen him come in.

He was slightly windswept, as usual—duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his battered and well-loved surfboard in one hand, his smile easy and unbothered. Javi was the very image of someone moving through life on breeze alone.

“I was beginning to think you were going to sneak off without a goodbye,” Jenn said, as he leaned on the counter.

“I nearly did,” Javi admitted. “But then I thought… no. One last treat from mi sirena de Hellisay.”

“Stop it,” she warned, though she was smiling. “You’re embarrassing the tiffin.”

He grinned. “You’ll miss me.”

“Sure, Javi,” Jenn said with light sarcasm. She handed him a cinnamon bun wrapped in a napkin. “On the house. Parting gift.”

“Such generosity.” He took his cinnamon bun gratefully, pressing a hand to his heart. “I’ll remember you fondly every time I eat terrible mainland pastries.”

She smiled. “Don’t make this emotional, Javi. We had a deal. Low effort, high enjoyment.”

“The best kind.” He clasped one of her hands and leaned across the counter a little, lowering his voice. “Hey, seriously. You’ve been brilliant. And I’m not just talking about… you know.”

Jenn raised a brow. “My cookies?”

He chuckled. Then took a bite of the bun, chewed thoughtfully. “You’ve been good for me.”

That made her pause. Not in a bad way. Just… a beat of something quieter.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, extracting her hand and wiping her hands on a cloth.

He grinned at her and leaned in further, his eyes holding that ever-present amused glimmer, with a more serious edge beneath it. “You’ve got something here, you know. This place suits you.”

She blinked. “That’s… unexpected.”

“No, really. When you first got here, you were a little wild-eyed. Always looking over your shoulder, like maybe you were going to bolt.” He paused, assessing her. “Now you look… here. Like you’re rooted.”

Jenn didn’t reply right away. A few months ago, she might’ve laughed that off. But now? She felt it. The rhythm of the place. The odd sense of ease she got walking into the café, or spotting Auntie Peigi from the kitchen window as she baked, or brushing Morag’s hair off her yoga leggings. And failing. Hellisay had crept in quietly—like the tide.

She gave a small nod. “Thanks, Javi.”

He smiled again and leaned in to kiss her cheek—light, friendly, familiar.

“Stay cool, Javi. And safe travels,” she said, giving him a fond smile.

“Stay wild, mi diosa del yoga. I’ll send a postcard. With seaweed,” he called over his shoulder. He gave a small salute and a cheeky grin, then slung his bag back over his shoulder and headed out.

Jenn chuckled and turned back to the counter.

Ruairidh was there. Solid. Still. And suddenly all the air around her felt warmer than it should have. Apparently, they’d finished their cakes. Enrique was still seated, but Ruairidh had wandered closer to the counter—presumably checking times or just stretching his legs. Or maybe not. She didn’t know.

Enrique glanced up from his phone, then toward Jenn. He gave her a little smile—one of those knowing, unspoken things pilots seemed to do far too often—and a tilt of his head that said ‘interesting’. Jenn raised her brows as if to say ‘don’t start’, and he just chuckled and went back to sipping his tea.

“Hey,” Ruairidh said. Casual. Calm.

“Hey.” Her voice was surprisingly even, but she caught herself shuffling a little, as if her body was trying to bleed off the fizz in her chest.

His gaze drifted to the door Javi had just disappeared through, then flicked back to her. Just a beat. Barely there. But it still felt like it landed. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks,” Jenn managed to reply. “Been running any races recently?”

Ruairidh gave a light chuckle. “I think that’ll be me for a while now, especially now the summer madness is over.”