Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Brian woke before dawn, the way he always did.
Old habits die hard. Years of early shifts had rewired his internal clock, and no amount of peaceful retirement in a lakeside cottage could convince his body that sleeping past five was acceptable. He lay in bed for a few minutes, listening to the silence on the other side of the wall.
Three days since Tessa had shown up on his doorstep. Three days of sharing coffee and meals and the quiet spaces between. He'd expected it to feel like an invasion. Instead, it felt like... something else. Something he didn't have a name for yet.
He got up and padded to the kitchen, starting the coffee before he was fully awake.
The routine was automatic now: grounds, water, the gurgle of the machine coming to life.
He stood at the window and watched the first light touch the water, turning it from black to gray to the pale pink of early morning.
His phone buzzed on the counter. Hank's name flashed on the screen.
"It's barely six," Brian said by way of greeting.
"And you've been up for an hour. Don't pretend otherwise." Hank's voice was warm, familiar. They'd known each other long enough that pretense was pointless. "Colby and I are heading to the shop early. Want to grab breakfast at Lila's first?"
Brian glanced toward the hallway. Tessa's door was still closed. "Yeah, I can do that. Give me twenty minutes."
"Bring your houseguest if she's up. Bree's been asking about her."
"How does Bree even know about her?"
Hank laughed. "Brother, this is Copper Moon. Everyone knows about her. Ruth told Lila, Lila told Sabrina, Sabrina told Bree. You know how it works."
Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Great. So the whole town's talking about the woman living in my cottage."
"The whole town's curious about the woman living in your cottage. There's a difference." A pause. "She's pretty, from what I hear."
"Goodbye, Hank."
He hung up to the sound of his friend's laughter.
Tessa was awake when he knocked on her door, already dressed in jeans and a soft blue sweater that made her eyes look greener than usual. She'd pulled her curls back with a clip, a few strands escaping to frame her face.
"I'm meeting some friends for breakfast in town," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "You're welcome to come. Fair warning, they're nosy as hell and will ask you a thousand questions."
She smiled, and something in his chest shifted. "Nosy friends sound like a nice change from eating alone."
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
They took his truck into town, the morning air cool enough to warrant closed windows. Main Street was quiet this early, the craft fair vendors gone and the usual pace of life resuming. A few shop owners were sweeping their sidewalks, and the smell of fresh bread drifted from somewhere nearby.
Lila's Sweet Treats sat on the corner of Main and Harbor, a cheerful yellow building with white trim and a striped awning. The windows were fogged with warmth, and even from outside, Brian could smell the cinnamon and sugar that had become synonymous with this place.
"This is where you said I could get lemon bars," Tessa said, peering at the display in the window.
"Lemon bars, croissants, the best breakfast sandwiches in town." Brian held the door open for her. "Lila's been here for thirty years. She knows everyone and feeds everyone. Just don't ask about her ex-husband unless you've got an hour to spare."
The bell above the door chimed as they entered. The interior was warm and bustling, mismatched tables and chairs creating a homey chaos that somehow worked. The walls were covered with local art, and a chalkboard menu behind the counter listed the day's specials in colorful script.
"Brian!" A woman in her sixties emerged from behind the counter, her silver hair twisted up in a practical bun, her apron dusted with flour. She had the kind of face that had seen everything and still found reasons to smile. "And you brought a friend. Finally."
"Lila, this is Tessa. Tessa, Lila. She runs this place and most of the town gossip."
Lila swatted his arm with a dish towel. "I do not gossip. I share information of community interest." She turned to Tessa with a warm smile. "Welcome to Copper Moon, honey. I've heard you're staying out at Brian's cottage."
"Information of community interest," Brian muttered.
Tessa laughed, the sound bright and unexpected. "It's nice to meet you. Brian's told me about your lemon bars."
"Did he now?" Lila's eyes sparkled. "Well, you sit yourself down, and I'll bring you one fresh from the oven. On the house for first-timers." She nodded toward a table in the corner where two men were already seated. "Your boys are waiting."
Brian guided Tessa through the maze of tables to where Hank and Colby sat with coffee cups already half-empty. Hank stood as they approached, his tall frame unfolding from the chair with an easy grace. Colby stayed seated but grinned up at them, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners.
"So this is the famous Tessa," Hank said, extending his hand. "I'm Hank. This ugly one is Colby."
"Famous is a strong word," Tessa said, shaking his hand. "But it's nice to meet you both. Brian's told me about the shop you're building together."
"Building, sweating over, arguing about." Colby pushed out a chair for her. "Mostly arguing. Have a seat. Tell us everything about yourself so we can properly interrogate Brian later."
"Subtle," Brian said dryly, dropping into the chair beside Tessa.
"I've never been accused of subtlety." Colby leaned back, arms crossed. "So. Chicago, right? What brings a city girl all the way to our little corner of South Carolina?"
Brian watched Tessa's face, wondering if she'd deflect. She'd been private about her reasons for being here, sharing only what she chose to share. He wouldn't blame her for keeping her cards close to her chest with strangers.
But she surprised him.
"I'm a trauma surgeon," she said, her voice steady.
"I took a leave of absence. Three months to figure out if I can go back, or if I need to find a different path.
" She picked up the menu Lila had left on the table, scanning it without really seeing it.
"Copper Moon seemed like a good place to do that figuring. "
Hank and Colby exchanged a look that Brian couldn't quite read. Then Hank nodded slowly.
"It is," he said. "We came here for a motorcycle race and never left. Sometimes you find a place that fits, and you stop looking for reasons to leave."
"The Copper Moon Cup," Tessa said. "Brian mentioned it."
"Best decision we ever made, entering that race." Colby's grin was easy. "Well, second best. First best was convincing this one to stay." He jerked his thumb at Brian. "He was all set to go back to Missouri. Took some persuading."
"Persuading meaning you wouldn't shut up about it until I agreed," Brian said.
"Whatever works."
Lila appeared with a tray of food: coffee for Brian and Tessa, a slightly steaming lemon bar, and a basket of fresh pastries. She distributed everything with practiced efficiency and disappeared back behind the counter.
Tessa picked up the lemon bar and took a bite. Her eyes closed, and a small sound escaped her that Brian tried very hard not to think about.
"Oh my God," she said. "This is incredible."
"Told you," Hank said. "Lila's a wizard with pastry."
They ordered breakfast and settled into easy conversation.
Brian found himself relaxing in a way he hadn't expected, watching Tessa hold her own with his friends.
She asked Colby about the mechanics of vintage motorcycle restoration and actually listened to the answer.
She laughed at Hank's stories about the race that had brought them all here.
She fit into the rhythm of the morning like she'd always been part of it.
"So," Colby said, leaning forward with the look that meant trouble was coming. "Brian's been pretty quiet about how this whole roommate situation is working out. Care to share your perspective?"
"Colby," Brian warned.
"What? It's a legitimate question. You've been living alone for months, and now suddenly you've got a beautiful woman sharing your space. Inquiring minds want to know."
Tessa's cheeks flushed pink, but she didn't look away. "He's been very generous. I showed up expecting an empty rental and found a man in a towel instead. Most people would have called the police. He let me stay."
"A towel?" Hank's eyebrows shot up. "You left that part out, Brian."
"I was in the shower. She walked in using the door code the rental company gave her. It was a misunderstanding."
"A misunderstanding that led to cohabitation." Colby was enjoying this far too much. "Romantic."
"It's not romantic," Brian said flatly. "It's logistics. The town was booked, she had nowhere to go, and the Calloways would have risen from their retirement in Charleston to haunt me if I'd turned her away."
"Sure." Colby's grin said he didn't believe a word of it. "Logistics."
Hank, mercifully, changed the subject. "Bree wants to have everyone over for dinner this weekend. You're both invited. Sabrina's making her famous shrimp and grits, and Bree's been working on a new painting she wants to show off."
"I don't want to intrude," Tessa said quickly.
"You wouldn't be." Hank's voice was warm. "Any friend of Brian's is family. That's how it works around here."
Brian saw her hesitate, saw the flicker of longing beneath the polite resistance. She was used to being on the outside, he realized. Used to keeping herself separate from the people around her.
"Come," he said, the word coming out softer than he intended. "They're good people. And Sabrina's shrimp and grits are worth the drive."
She looked at him, something shifting in her green eyes. Then she nodded. "Okay. I'd like that."
After breakfast, Hank and Colby headed to the shop, and Brian walked Tessa down Main Street. The morning had warmed, and the town was coming alive around them. Shop doors propped open, locals calling greetings to each other, the harbor glittering at the end of the street like a promise.
"Your friends are nice," Tessa said. "A little intense, but nice."
"Colby doesn't know any other speed. And Hank's the most solid person I've ever met. When he says you're family, he means it."
"I got that sense." She paused at a window display, looking at a collection of handmade jewelry. "How long have you known them?"
"Hank, about fifteen years. We worked together in Missouri, back when I was still on the ambulance.
Colby came along later, but it feels like he's always been there.
" Brian shoved his hands in his pockets, watching a seagull swoop down to steal something from a trash can.
"They're the closest thing I've got to brothers. "
"That's rare. Having people like that."
"It is." He glanced at her. "You have anyone like that? Back in Chicago?"
She was quiet for a moment, her attention still on the jewelry.
"I had colleagues. People I worked with every day, people I trusted in the OR.
But outside of that..." She shook her head.
"The job didn't leave much room for anything else.
I kept meaning to build a life outside the hospital, but there was always another shift, another emergency, another reason to put it off. "
"And then you burned out."
"And then I burned out." She turned from the window, meeting his eyes.
"I woke up one morning and couldn't make myself get out of bed.
Not because I was tired, though I was. Because I couldn't remember why any of it mattered.
The patients, the surgeries, the lives I was saving. It all felt like noise."
He knew that feeling. Had lived inside it for months before Hank and Colby had dragged him to Copper Moon. The numbness that crept in when you'd given everything and had nothing left.
"That's why you came here," he said. "To remember why it matters."
"Maybe. Or to figure out if it ever did." She started walking again, and he fell into step beside her. "I keep waiting to miss it. The adrenaline, the purpose, the feeling of being needed. But so far, all I feel is relief."
"There's nothing wrong with relief."
"Tell that to the voice in my head that says I'm abandoning people who need me."
He stopped walking, and she stopped too, turning to face him. They were in front of the bookstore, Ruth's shop, with its cluttered window display and promise of quiet inside.
"That voice is lying," he said. "You can't save anyone if you're running on empty. Taking time to refill isn't abandonment. It's survival."
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes bright with something she was trying not to show. "Is that what you tell yourself? About leaving the ambulance?"
The question cut closer than he expected. "I'm still working on believing it."
"Then we're both works in progress."
"Seems that way."
They stood there for a moment, the bustle of Main Street flowing around them like water around stones. Then she smiled, small but real, and something in his chest loosened.
"Thank you," she said. "For saying that."
"Don't thank me yet. I'm still figuring out if I mean it."
She laughed, that bright sound he was starting to look forward to. "Fair enough."
They walked back to the truck in companionable silence. As Brian pulled out of the parking spot and headed toward White Gull Lane, he caught himself glancing at her profile, the way the sunlight caught the gold in her hair, the soft curve of her mouth.
Three days ago, she'd been a stranger invading his peace.
Now she felt like something else entirely.
He wasn't sure what to do with that. Wasn't sure he was ready to examine it too closely. But as the trees closed in around them and the cottage came into view through the green, he found himself hoping she'd stay long enough for him to figure it out.
Three months, she'd said. Three months to figure out her future.
He had a feeling those three months were going to change more than just hers.