Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Nolan
" S ign here." I push the delivery form toward Sara Miller, barely glancing up from the festival layout plans spread across my desk. "And here."
"You know," Sara says, signing with a flourish, "you could at least pretend to be excited about my new maple scones."
"They look great."
"You wouldn't even know if I'd brought empty boxes. You haven't actually looked at them."
She's right. I've been buried in work since my conversation with Kathryn, trying to drown out her hurt expression with vendor contracts and event schedules.
"Sorry." I finally meet her eyes. "I’ve been distracted."
"Clearly." She settles into the chair across from me, making no move to leave. "Though probably not as distracted as Cam's been lately. All those meetings with fancy-suited people from out of town."
Something in her tone makes me look up sharply. "What meetings?"
"Oh, you haven't heard?" She leans forward. "Beth from the market saw him showing some corporate types around yesterday. Talking about 'modernization' and 'untapped potential.' And Marie said she overheard him on the phone this morning, discussing sale prices."
The festival plans blur in front of me. "Sale prices?"
"Apparently he's selling to some big coffee chain." Sara's voice turns bitter. "Because clearly what this town needs is another generic coffee stop. Though I guess that means I'll need to find somewhere else to sell my scones."
But I'm barely listening. All I can think about is Kathryn. Kathryn, who believed in wishes. Kathryn, who fought for community. Kathryn, who looked at a struggling coffee shop and saw possibility.
Kathryn, who I pushed away because I was too afraid to admit she mattered.
"When?" My voice sounds strange even to me. "When is he selling?"
"Soon, from what I heard. Beth said the suits were talking about 'quick turnaround' and 'minimal disruption.'" Sara stands, gathering her things. "Shame, really. Just when it was starting to feel special again."
Special. Like the way Kathryn's eyes lit up when a wish came true. Like her laugh during storytelling night. Like the quiet moments between events when she'd watch the community she was building, pride and purpose radiating from every inch of her.
Like the way she made me believe in impossible things.
"I have to go." I'm already standing, papers scattering.
"Now?" Sara blinks. "But the festival plans?—"
"Can wait." I grab my keys, my jacket. "Some things can't."
I take the lodge stairs two at a time, my mind racing faster than my feet. All those moments I wasted pushing her away. All those chances I had to tell her the truth—not just about Cam, but about how she makes this town feel more alive. About how she makes me feel more alive.
Her room is empty when I reach it. The bed is made, the desk cleared. No laptop, no tablet, none of the papers usually scattered across every surface.
"She checked out an hour ago." Lisa's voice makes me turn. She stands in the doorway, concern etched on her face. "I tried to tell you earlier, but you were busy with the festival plans."
"Did she say where?—"
"Just that she was leaving." Lisa twists her hands. "I'm sorry, Nolan."
I'm back in my truck before I realize I'm moving, gravel spraying as I turn toward town. The Coffee Loft is dark, closed early for the first time since Kathryn arrived. Through the window, I can see the Wishing Wall, wishes still waiting to come true.
My phone shows no messages, no missed calls. Only silence where her name should be.
The porch light flickers on as dusk settles over the mountains, and there she is. Kathryn sits curled in one of the rocking chairs scattered around the porch of the lodge, notebook in her lap, her tablet propped against the railing. Relief hits me so hard I have to grip the doorframe.
"You're here."
She looks up, startled. "Where else would I be?"
"Lisa said—" I stop, pieces clicking into place. "Lisa said you checked out."
"Oh." Kathryn tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Evie moved me to Cabin Four this afternoon. Said I might be more comfortable there, since I'd been living out of a suitcase in the suite. I guess Lisa didn't get the message."
The simple explanation makes my panic feel foolish. But seeing her empty room, thinking she'd left without a word...
"Can we talk?" I move closer, careful, like she might disappear if I move too fast.
She closes her notebook. "About what happened in the kitchen, or about Cam selling the coffee shop?"
"You know about that?"
"He told me this afternoon." Her voice is steady, but I catch the hurt underneath. "Right before he suggested I 'cut my losses' and move on."
"That's not going to happen." I settle into the chair next to hers. "You leaving, I mean. Not if I can help it."
She studies me for a long moment. "Yesterday you could barely look at me. Today you don't want me to leave. That's quite a change of heart."
"Not a change." I force myself to meet her gaze. "More like finally being honest about what was already there."
The porch light casts soft shadows across her face, reminding me of that first evening when she arrived at the lodge. When possibility felt as endless as the mountain view.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "About how I acted. About letting old wounds cloud my judgment."
"Old wounds?"
"The winter festival wasn't the first time Cam betrayed someone's trust." The words come easier than I expected. "Three years ago, when he bought the franchise, my family offered to help with the transition. We knew the community, understood what made the coffee shop special."
"What happened?"
"Cam smiled and nodded and ignored every suggestion. Then he started changing things. Local suppliers were too expensive. Community events weren't 'efficient.' The hazelnut macchiato Mom loved..." I swallow hard. "It didn't fit the standardized menu."
"But it's still on the menu."
"Because someone insisted that at least a few local specialties stay. The only time Cam ever listened to anyone." I laugh without humor. "When I saw him with you at the farmers' market, it felt like history repeating. Another corporate partnership, another round of promises that would end in people leaving."
"I'm not Cam." Her voice is soft but firm.
"I know." I turn to face her fully. "I've known that since the first time I saw you reading wishes on that wall. Since I watched you fight for this community like it was your own. I got scared."
"Of what?"
"Of caring too much. Of watching you leave once you got what you came for." The admission costs me something, but she deserves the truth. "But the thought of you leaving now, without knowing how much you matter here—how much you matter to me... that's scarier than any risk."
She's quiet for so long I wonder if I've said too much. Then, "I thought you didn't want anything more than a professional relationship."
"I was an idiot."
"Yes." But there's a hint of a smile in her voice. "You were."
"Let me help you fight for the coffee shop." I reach for her hand, relief flooding through me when she doesn't pull away. "We can use the lodge's connections, rally the community. My family knows every business owner in three counties."
"It might not be enough."
"Then we'll find another way." I squeeze her fingers gently. "But you don't have to do it alone."
She looks down at our joined hands. "Why now? Why tonight?"
"Because I finally realized some things are worth the risk." I trace my thumb across her knuckles. "Some people are worth being brave for."
The mountain night wraps around us, cricket-song and starlight and possibilities restored. Kathryn's hand is warm in mine, and when she meets my eyes again, I see something that looks like hope.
"I can't promise it will work," she says softly.
"I'm not asking for promises." I lift our joined hands, pressing a gentle kiss to her fingers. "I'm just asking for a chance. To help save what matters. To prove that not everyone leaves."
She catches her breath, and for a moment I think I've gone too far. Then she shifts her hand in mine, interlacing our fingers.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll let you help." A real smile tugs at her lips. "But if you ever pull that cold shoulder act again..."
"Never." I lean closer, drawn by the warmth in her eyes. "I'm done running from good things."