Chapter 12
Levi
Iwoke up the way I always did after a long shift—too alert for how little sleep I’d gotten, my body heavy and my mind already scanning for problems. Gray morning light filtered through the blinds, striping the wall beside my bed.
The house itself was still. Jude hadn’t gotten back from his shift yet, and the absence of noise pressed in—familiar, but louder than it should have been.
I lay there for a moment, listening to it, letting my breathing even out.
The first thing I thought of wasn’t work.
It was Becca.
The way her lips had brushed my cheek after Holloway’s. The faint warmth that had lingered long after her taillights disappeared. The way she’d looked at me right before she drove off, eyes searching mine like she was asking a question she wasn’t ready to voice.
My hand went to the spot without thinking. I exhaled slowly, chest tight.
God. It was just a kiss on the cheek.
I let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh under it, because I knew how pathetic that sounded… lying here, stuck on something so small.
But it wasn’t just that. Not from her.
Not after everything.
I dragged a hand over my face, staring up at the ceiling. I shouldn’t want this so much.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand and checked the time, then her messages. Nothing new. Just the one from last night telling me that she had made it home. All good. Short. Simple. Exactly what she’d wanted me to see.
But I knew Becca. She could make “all good” sound convincing even when she was unraveling.
I stared at the words until they blurred, thumb hovering over the reply button as if I could somehow reach through the screen and feel if she was really okay.
I wanted to be the person she turned to.
The one she didn’t have to pretend for. The one she let see the cracks.
But every time I got close to saying it out loud, the old fear rose up that I would push too hard and she’d pull away.
I locked the phone and set it down. Some instincts didn’t let you rest. I rolled onto my side, staring at the wall and knowing I wasn’t done watching out for her.
Violet’s was already busy when I pulled in, late-morning light filling the café in a way that made everything feel warmer than it was. The bell over the door chimed as I stepped inside.
“Hey,” Violet called from behind the counter, already pouring coffee. “You look like you need that.”
“I do,” I said, taking the mug she slid across without asking. “Thanks.”
Mom sat in her usual corner, laptop open, legal pad beside it, pencil tucked into her hair. Dahlia Barrett wrote everywhere, but Violet’s was her favorite when she needed to be around people without being interrupted by them.
She glanced up and smiled. “Morning, Levi.”
“Morning.”
I took a seat at the table by the counter, letting the normalcy of the place settle in. Coffee grinding. Dishes clinking. Violet and her baristas moving with practiced ease.
That was when the door opened again, and Becca stepped inside, rain jacket zipped halfway, hair pulled back but already slipping loose around her face. My attention sharpened instantly. My pulse kicked up like it had been waiting for her.
She didn’t come to the counter right away. Instead, she paused near the door as Matt came in behind her with his expression all business, softened by big brother. They spoke quietly for a moment, heads bent together.
Becca nodded at whatever Matt said, her mouth curving into a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He squeezed her shoulder once before heading toward the counter to grab coffee.
She caught sight of me then, and her smile changed; it was warmer and reached her eyes, but there was something underneath it now, something guarded. She crossed the room and stopped beside me.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” I replied. “You okay?”
She hesitated just long enough that I noticed.
“Yeah,” she said. “Just tired.” Same answer as always. I wasn’t sure I believed it any more than she did.
I wanted to reach out and brush that loose strand of hair behind her ear, tell her she didn’t have to pretend with me. Instead, I kept my hands on my mug, knuckles white around the ceramic.
“I’m heading to work,” she added, already backing away. “Just wanted caffeine first. No offense to the Stop & Go, but it’s not going to cut it today. I need the good stuff.”
Matt glanced over from the counter, gave me a look I couldn’t quite read before turning back to Violet.
Becca glanced at the clock on the wall and winced. “Okay. I really do have to go. Elizabeth will revoke my burrito privileges if I’m late.”
“Cruel and unusual punishment,” I said. “Those things are half the reason people come in.”
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know. Tragic.”
“So,” I said, leaning back slightly, giving her space. “When do I see you again?”
She hesitated—just a beat too long—then shrugged. “I’m working all day. But, maybe later? If you’re around?”
“I’m off,” I said. “Miraculously.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I said. “I occasionally rest.”
She laughed, softer this time. “Okay. Maybe we’ll figure something out.”
“Figure something out,” I repeated. “Very specific. I like a plan with structure.”
“Text me?”
“Yep,” I said.
She nodded, then paused like she might say something else. But she didn’t, she just gave me a quick, crooked smile and headed out.
I watched her go, the bell over the door chiming cheerfully behind her.
When I turned back, Matt was at the table next to me, coffee in hand. He raised an eyebrow at me.
I frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said easily.
Right.
Becca hadn’t said anything was wrong. She’d joked. She’d smiled. She’d made plans. And yet she’d been wound tight as a pulled wire. And whatever she and Matt had been talking about—it hadn’t been breakfast burritos.
I’d known Matt Hartford for a long time.
He was broad-shouldered without looking bulky, with dark hair kept just short enough that he probably trimmed it himself between shifts.
In uniform, he looked like someone who knew how to carry responsibility without making a show of it, and out of uniform, he carried the same quiet attention to detail.
It was all about the way he tilted his head when he was listening, the loose tension in his shoulders that said he was always ready to move if needed. People trusted him. I trusted him.
He cleared his throat. “Appreciate you.”
I looked over at him. “For what?”
“For helping keep an eye on Becca,” he said, low enough that no one else could hear.
I shrugged. “She’s my friend.”
He studied me for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
A beat passed. The espresso machine hissed behind the counter. Somewhere near the window, someone laughed.
“So,” Matt said, casual on the surface. “You two going out?”
I snorted. “No.”
His eyebrow ticked up.
“We’re working on our friendship,” I said. “That’s it. And for the record, Becca knows you asked people to watch out for her. I’m not keeping anything from her.”
“That goes both ways,” Matt said immediately. “I’m not telling you anything she tells me, either.”
Good.
We held each other’s gaze for a moment. Matt nodded once. “Fair.”
“Fair,” I agreed.
He took a sip of his coffee, then added, quieter, “Keep your eyes open.”
“I already am,” I said. Our gazes shifted, almost unconsciously, to the door Becca had gone through.
Matt exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Me too.” Neither of us said anything else. We didn’t need to. Matt finished his coffee and set the mug down with deliberate care. “I’ve got to get to work. But I want to talk to you later. I heard you say you were off. Meet me at Holloway’s. I’ll text you.”
“Okay, yeah,” I said. “See you later.”
He hesitated, then clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks again, Levi.” He headed for the door, leaving me standing there with a cooling cup of coffee and the growing sense that whatever was bothering Becca was more than Travis.
I stepped outside a moment later, the morning air sharp and fresh, Sweetbriar already moving around me as if nothing was wrong.
Becca’s smile lingered in my mind—the way it had come a second late, as if she’d practiced it.
The way she’d joked instead of answering.
The way she hadn’t said a word about whatever had her wound tight enough to snap.
I’d meant what I told her. I wanted my best friend back.
But standing there on the sidewalk, watching the town wake up, I knew one thing for certain: I wanted more than that, and whatever was going on with Becca Hartford, it wasn’t nothing.
And I wasn’t going to stop paying attention. Because somewhere between the cheek kiss and the quiet “I’m here,” I’d stopped pretending I could live without her in my life.