Chapter 3
Caleb
There is nothing better than the hour after the lunch rush.
At twelve o’clock, on the dot, what appears to be the entirety of Wayward Hollow gathers here. Either to eat a lunch snack, or to have a coffee to get them through the rest of their day. Then at one o’clock on the dot, they go back to their own stores and work. Blissfully predictable.
It has always been that way, and I suspect it will continue to happen until one day either the café closes or the last person living in Wayward Hollow dies.
Now, the only ones in here are Henry, who tends to take a late or early lunch to avoid the rush, with his dog Jensen, who is sleeping at his feet. And Kieran, who doesn’t appear to have any other hobbies apart from hanging out here and keeping an eye and ear on what’s happening in this town.
Occasionally, he will leave with Andrea, the owner of Wayward Hollow’s only hotel, or Courtney, who owns the flower shop, if either of them need a hand for the afternoon.
Apart from that, he pretty much keeps to himself.
Usually, he sits in a corner with a laptop on the table in front of him and earphones on.
Unless someone from their friend group decides to join him.
And that’s the best kind of customer I can have. I don’t care what they do, as long as they don’t try to tangle me up in senseless small-talk. Just like now, as I’m wiping down the counter, cleaning coffee stains and crumbs off it.
“You’re coming to Lauren and Nic’s Friendsgiving tomorrow, right?” Henry shouts my way from their table. I glance over to them.
My movement falters. I almost forgot they invited me.
Those two moved into Wayward Hollow a few months back, bringing a figurative tornado with them.
For some reason, they decided on my café for their meeting spot.
They also decided that means I’m now part of their new friend group. Like a stray puppy they took in.
Lauren in particular has taken it upon herself to get a rise out of me, for whatever reason. And she’s damned successful at it, too.
“Don’t know yet,” I tell him gruffly and shrug.
Right. It’s that time of the year again.
The ‘let’s all pretend we love pumpkin pie and each other’ season.
And apparently, if you’re not spending it with your family, you’re some kind of tragic, lonely hermit who needs saving.
Everyone who comes in here in the days leading up to Thanksgiving gives me the same type of look.
The ‘oh, poor guy, he’s probably microwaving a turkey dinner for one’ look.
And there’s even more pity when you claim your family’s dead. Sadly, in my case, they’re still alive and kicking as far as I know. But at this point, whether they’re dead or alive, it’s all the same to me. I might as well make it easier for me and say the former if anyone asks.
“What?” Kieran gasps, clutching imaginary pearls. “You can’t not come. Who else is going to put out the turkey fire? Who’s going to be the voice of reason when chaos inevitably breaks out? Or save us when Nic’s ghost cat tries to drag us into the underworld? Don’t you dare leave me unsupervised.”
Kieran jumps up to pace the café, while I continue to wipe down the counter. There’s one persistent coffee stain right in the center.
“This is the first proper Thanksgiving I’ve had in over ten years.
” He throws his arms into the air, waving them around as if he’s trying to fly.
“How can you be so indifferent? I can’t believe you’re not jumping at the chance to stuff yourself with turkey!
And whatever TikTok recipes Lauren finds and probably declares to become a tradition. ”
“I’ll think about it.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets, then gasps, eyes wide.
“Wait, do you have other plans?” He clutches his chest in mock betrayal.
Henry grins amusedly, knowing the only other person I’d even consider seeing on Thanksgiving is Bobby.
He’s the guy who ran the café before me, but he usually spends Thanksgiving with his family one state over.
I do have a standing invitation; however, I’m not going to a family gathering where I only know one person, hours away from Wayward Hollow.
“Don’t tell me you have other plans? Friends you prefer over us? Don’t you dare grimace at me, mister. Whether you want it or not, we’re friends. And that word is not poisonous.”
“Come on, lay off him, Kieran.” Henry tries to calm him down, chuckling. He gets up, walks over and grabs Kieran by his shoulders, then marches him back over to their table and pushes him onto his chair. “You know Caleb. He’s not as outspoken as you.”
“You call it ‘outspoken,’ I call it in touch with my emotions,” Kieran shoots back and clicks his tongue. “But if he can’t admit he’s into Lauren, the least he could do is admit that we’re friends.”
I freeze. For half a second, my brain short-circuits.
Into Lauren?
Absolutely not. If anything, I find her infuriating. The way she marches in here with her damned syrup, that sly smile and daring eye-contact as she stabs a dagger into my heart as she’s pouring that sugary shit in my lovingly prepared coffee…
Okay, maybe a little. But that’s beside the point.
“Hey!” I cut in, grabbing the nearest towel, bundling it up, and launching it toward their table. It’s meant to hit Kieran square in the face, but it flutters open halfway and lands in his lap like a damn napkin. Figures.
“I’m not into Lauren. If anything, I find her infuriating.
The way she marches in here as if she owns the place, trying to tell me how to run my café and put that sugary shit onto my menu…
Hell, she can be lucky I haven’t thrown out her and her bottle already.
The only reason I haven’t is that I know she’d just bring another one.
And sure, fine, it might only be a ridiculous bottle of syrup, but I’m not going to throw away food. ”
Kieran’s grinning now, full teeth. He doesn’t even have to say it. I can feel the ‘you’re protesting too much’ coming off his smug smile in waves.
I cross my arms and glare. “What?”
“Suuure,” Kieran says, biting the inside of his cheek. “That’s the reason.”
I’m about to find something else to throw his way when Henry cuts in. “Promise me to think about it, okay?” Slowly, I shift my glare from Kieran to him. “It will be fun. Mom and Dad are on a cruise this year, which means I’ll be there too.”
“Pfft. Whatever.” Kieran’s still pouting. He jumps up and puts on his jacket, then reaches for the towel.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. See you tomorrow.” He throws the towel my way as he walks past the counter. “Or not.” For a moment he stops to glare at me, then walks out, the sound of the little bell above my entrance ringing loudly in the now silent café.
“Don’t mind him,” Henry says with a chuckle, getting up from the table to bring both mugs over to the counter. Jensen follows suit, shaking his head with a big yawn.
I take the mugs from Henry a little too quickly. “What are your parents doing on a cruise?” I ask, aiming for nonchalance and probably missing by a mile. “I never took them for the cruise type.”
People come and go. And if life has taught me one thing, it’s that they go more often than they stay. Henry’s parents are okay, though. They’re welcoming and don’t push too much.
I’m surprised they’re choosing not to spend Thanksgiving with him.
“It’s their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary,” he explains as he sets down the mugs with a clank. “Which means we’re having our Thanksgiving next week instead. You’re invited, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I say gruffly, putting the mugs in the pass-through window to the kitchen.
“I mean it,” he insists, putting on his coat. “You might not think your presence matters, but Nala is always sad when her favorite uncle doesn’t come over.”
“Sure,” I say, irony dripping from my voice, and roll my eyes. Nala is his parents’ golden retriever. She’s the cutest not-so-little creature. Even cuter than Jensen, I dare say.
Two years ago, he convinced me to come to his parents’ house to celebrate his birthday. I spent the whole celebration in a corner of their living room, hands buried in Nala’s soft fur. I was silently watching what was happening, not at all eager to insert myself into their family dynamic.
Does it seem rude in retrospect? Yes. But none of them ever made me feel bad for keeping my distance. No, instead they kept their distance, going at my pace, as if I were a stray pet whose trust they wanted to win.
“And I promise, if you come to Nic’s for Thanksgiving, there will be enough furry friends to keep you entertained.” The corner of his mouth twitches. Damn. Can he read my mind?
“I’ll think about it.” I repeat and continue wiping the counter.
“You do that,” Henry grins and leans down to grab Jensen’s leash. “See you, Caleb.”
As soon as my café is empty, I lean my back against the counter, close my eyes, and force myself to take a deep breath.
People leave. Don’t get attached.
I repeat the mantra in my head over and over. People leave. And when they do, it hurts. I’m not going through that again.
But for some reason, Lauren’s face flashes through my mind between every repetition.
That mischievous smile, that cute dimple in her cheeks, and the playful twinkle that promises shenanigans in her eyes. The way her rosy cheeks glow when she enters the café from the cold outside.
The bell over my entrance tears me away from my thoughts. I plaster on my customer service face, which is slightly less resting murder face than my usual one.
“Welcome. What can I get you?” I greet the newcomers, forcing down all the emotions boiling up inside of me.