Chapter 10 Evie #2
I grab menus, and I approach the booth containing the girl group first.
Jules pulls her sunglasses down and grins at me. “Hi.”
I stare. “Hi.”
Mina’s eyes are huge, like she’s looking at a celebrity, except I’m not the celebrity; I’m the civilian who almost got eaten by a demon. She’s the celebrity.
Remy’s gaze is sharp, assessing.
Kaia sits rigid, hands clasped under the table.
I set the menus down with a soft smack. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Kaia speaks first, voice low. “Coffee. If that’s okay. Cream, no sugar.”
My fingers tighten around my notepad. I write it down, the pen digging a little too hard into the paper.
I look her dead in the eye and say, clearly, “Of course, Ms. Rhee.”
The formality lands like a blade.
Kaia flinches, just a fraction. Jules literally chokes on her attempt to hold in her laughter.
Mina’s eyes go even wider, and she whispers something inaudible. Remy’s elbow drives gently into Mina’s side. Mina squeaks.
“What,” Jules whispers, delighted. “What is happening?”
“Nothing,” I say, still staring at Kaia. “Anything else?”
I look at the others.
Mina says quickly, “Tea, please. If you have chamomile? Or anything warm?”
“We have black tea. Is that okay?”
“Of course!” Mina lights up like I’ve given her a puppy.
Remy says, “Black coffee.”
Jules says, “Coffee, but with, like, extra sugar.”
I write their orders down with exaggerated professionalism, pen scratching a little too loud. “Extra sugar. Got it.”
Blaire orders black, of course—efficient and sleepless. Mr. Bane doesn’t even look at the menu.
“Water,” he says.
At the other booth, Jules whispers to Mina, “Look. She’s doing the Kaia Thing again. The jaw. The tragic ocean-girl stare.”
Kaia’s head snaps toward them, eyes blazing. “Jules.”
I turn away before my expression can betray me, and I disappear behind the counter. I move on autopilot—pots, mugs, sugar caddies, cream. My hands know this work even when my head is still back in last night’s static.
When I come back with the drinks, I set them down with careful, controlled clinks. Mina beams at me like I’m the nicest person she’s met all week, which is… unfortunate for her.
I still don’t look at Kaia. If I look at Kaia, I’ll start measuring the distance between us in inches and mistakes.
Jules, on the other hand, seems determined to treat this like a normal diner outing with friends.
“Are you ready to order?” I ask.
At the nods, I look at Jules first.
“So,” she says brightly, leaning in like we’re best friends. “Whatever’s best.”
I hate when people do that.
I keep my voice neutral. “We do a decent cheeseburger.”
Jules blinks, delighted. “Perfect. However it comes is great.”
Mina points at the menu with cautious politeness. “Um… is the blueberry pancake special good?”
“If you like sweet.”
“I like sweet,” Mina says. “I’ll take that.”
Remy doesn’t look up from the laminated menu. “Patty melt. No pickles.”
“Of course,” I say, still not looking at Kaia.
Blaire orders with the brisk competence of someone who’s had meetings in worse places. “Two eggs, toast, hash browns.”
Mr. Bane doesn’t waver. “Nothing.”
Of course.
I wait one extra beat before I finally force my eyes to the side, just enough to catch Kaia’s order without really seeing her.
Kaia’s voice is careful. “Just… fries. Please.”
My pen pauses for half a second.
Fries. That’s it. Just like when we were teenagers and had to save up for a basket, unless Gus took pity on us. The difference now is that she could probably buy the entire diner with a snap of her fingers. Still, she orders 'just fries.'
I write it down anyway.
“Anything else?” I ask, because my job is my armor.
Jules grins. “Can we get milkshakes?”
Gus’s voice booms from behind the counter. “No shakes. Machine’s down.”
Jules clutches her chest like she’s been shot. "You’re kidding. This is, like… McDonald’s-core tragedy.”
“Welcome to life,” I say, and turn on my heel before Kaia can say anything that makes my chest do something stupid.
I take the ticket back to Gus and the cook, slap it on the rail, and call it out.
Gus’s grunt is his version of approval.
Blaire types away on her phone, and Mr. Bane has taken to wandering the diner. Whenever Gus isn’t eying him suspiciously, he’s drawing those creepy sigils into the air again. My skin prickles.
Mina watches the handler, then looks back at me with wide, earnest eyes, like she wants to apologize for him existing in my workplace. But Kaia’s gaze keeps flicking to my hands.
Has she noticed them trembling?
I’m not trembling because I’m scared of her.
I’m trembling because my body remembers loving her and my brain is trying to murder that memory with a brick.
Mina whispers, audible only because the diner is too quiet, “Oh my god, she’s exactly how you described her when we were trainees.”
Another elbow from Remy. Mina squeaks again.
Jules laughs into her hand. “I cannot believe this is real.”
It doesn’t take long for Sam to complete the order. Once everything is ready, Gus shoves the plates toward me. I pick everything up, balance it, then walk over. I set the plates down one by one, efficient, clean.
And when I set down Kaia’s fries, my fingers brush hers. Just a graze. Nothing. Yet, electricity crackles down my spine, causing me to straighten. I pull my hand back first, too fast, like I touched a hot pan.
“Anything else?” I ask, voice sharp to cover the fact my pulse just spiked.
Jules brightens instantly, “A therapy session?”
My brain stutters.
Therapy.
Session.
My face heats so fast I almost hate myself for being capable of blushing.
So they know.
Of course, they know.
Did Kaia really tell them about me? When? When they were trainees, like Mina whispered? How? Like it was a funny story? Like I was a character in her origin myth? Had she bragged about breaking my heart? Laughed about it?
Kaia’s head snaps toward Jules with a glare that could crack glass. Jules’s grin only gets wider until Kaia shifts in her seat, and Jules makes a small, surprised “oof” sound like she just got kicked under the table.
Mina’s eyes go round with secondhand panic. “Jules,” she hisses.
Remy doesn’t even look up. She just takes a bite like this is none of her business, which somehow makes it worse.
Mina says softly, to me, sincere as a prayer, “Thank you.”
Remy nods once, respectful.
Kaia’s voice is quiet. “Thank you.”
I finally look at her then, just to make sure she hears me.
“Of course,” I say. “Ms. Rhee.”
Her eyes flicker. Hurt flashes there, quick and unwanted.
Good, I think viciously. Now she knows what it feels like.
Except the good feeling doesn’t last. Because the hurt on her face looks real. And part of me—some stupid, soft part—hates that I caused it even when she deserves worse.
I turn away before my expression can betray me and look at Blaire and Mr. Bane. I set their food down, well… Blaire’s plate and Bane’s water refill, because of course he’s still on water. They murmur thanks without really looking up.
They’re too busy murmuring about ‘ward integrity.’
I retreat, embarrassed and pissed, and disappear into the kitchen.
Sam is wiping down the grill, humming under his breath like nothing in the world is wrong. I grab a towel and start helping him because my hands need something to do before I explode.
For a few minutes, it works.
Then Gus barks my name from the front like I’m a dog he regrets owning.
“Evie. Front.”
Of course.
I leave the kitchen and walk out just in time to see Gus carrying dessert plates, pie and something chocolatey he definitely didn’t make for tourists. And because the universe is determined to humiliate everyone in this diner, he’s not alone.
Sam traipses out behind him with the last plate, eyes wide like he’s staring at living mythology.
He sets the plate down in front of Jules, clears his throat, and then says, “Could I… maybe… get a quick autograph?”
Jules, of course, lights up. “Oh my god, yes.”
Sam pulls a receipt book out like he’s been carrying it for this exact moment.
Gus presses his fingers to his forehead in a full-body facepalm. “Sam.”
Sam whispers, “For my niece.”
“Sam,” Gus repeats, warning.
Jules grabs the receipt book anyway, grinning. “What’s her name?”
Sam beams. “Sierra. She’s twelve. Loves your music!”
Jules scribbles something fast and dramatic and slides it to the other girls to sign too. “Tell Sierra that Jules says hi and to eat her veggies.”
Kaia hands him the receipt paper, now fully autographed.
Sam looks like he might ascend. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
He scuttles back to the kitchen like he’s afraid someone will take it away.
Gus mutters, “I’m surrounded by idiots,” and storms off.
Jules watches him go, delighted. “I love him.”
I roll my eyes. “Do not encourage him.”
Jules puts a hand over her heart. “Yes, ma’am.”
I don’t laugh. I refuse.
But Mina does—soft, surprised—and it makes the booth feel less like a battlefield for half a second. Then my wrist tingles again, and my brain reminds me I’m in a cage with velvet walls.
I step back, forcing distance. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Evie—” Kaia starts, then stops, eyes flicking briefly to Blaire and the others. “Thank you,” she says, quieter.
I finally look at her, and I hate myself because I see it… she’s trying. She’s actually trying not to make it worse.
It doesn’t matter.
Trying doesn’t undo years.
Trying doesn’t un-say “stupid kiss.”
Trying doesn’t un-leave without a word.
I keep my voice cold because it’s the only thing holding me up.
“Enjoy your meal." I turn away before my eyes can do anything traitorous.
I retreat to the counter and start wiping something that doesn’t need wiping. The rag moves in angry circles. I pretend I’m not listening.
I listen anyway, and let their voices fill my head.
Jules talking in low bursts, like she can’t help filling silence. Mina’s soft laughter. Remy’s dry comments. Kaia barely speaking at all.
But I feel Kaia’s gaze on me like heat. Every time I move, she tracks me. I don’t look at her because I refuse to let her win my attention like she wins everything else.
I want to throw the rag through the window.
Somewhere in the booth, Mina whispers again, soft and awed, “She really is exactly—”
Remy murmurs, “Eat your food, Mina.”
Jules says, delighted, “Kaia, you are so doomed.”
Kaia’s voice is barely audible. “Stop.”
Jules laughs. “No.”
I set the coffee pot down with a little too much force. I take a breath, force my shoulders to loosen, and force my face into neutral. Because I can’t afford to be the emotional buffet anymore.
Not for demons.
Not for Midnight Halo.
And definitely not for Kaia Rhee.
Still… When I glance at the booth again, Kaia’s eyes are on me.
Not hungry. Not triumphant.
Just… relieved.
Before I can spiral, Blaire stands and claps her hands once, quiet and efficient.
“Okay,” she says, the way you say we’re wrapping this up. “Quick homecoming shots. Then we’re gone.”
She walks over to the booth where the girls are and lifts her phone. “Alright, Midnight Halo, positions. Jules, do the thing.”
Jules lights up like she’s been waiting her whole life for permission.
She throws up a peace sign and leans into Mina.
Mina tries to look composed and fails adorably when she ends up grinning.
Remy doesn’t move much, she just tilts her head and gives the camera a calm look like it’s a skill she was born with.
Kaia sits still and flashes a perfect smile. It’s identical to her poster shots.
Blaire snaps a few photos. “Perfect.”
I keep my eyes on the counter and pretend my job is not currently being turned into content.
Then Blaire pivots—phone still up—and her gaze lands on poor Gus.
“Now,” she says, “can I get you and Kaia with the diner? Under the Lighthouse sign.”
Gus grunts like he hates everyone equally and shuffles out from behind the counter.
Kaia stands too, following him. She steps to the counter beneath the LIGHTHOUSE DINER sign inside, the one with the painted lighthouse and the little wave flourish.
The sign I’ve looked at a thousand times without thinking.
Now it feels like a target.
Blaire frames the shot. “Gus, look alive.”
“Impossible,” Gus mutters.
Kaia’s mouth twitches.
Blaire lifts her phone. “Kaia, just a little more warmth. Hometown, you know?”
Kaia’s face shifts into something practiced and gentle. My chest does something stupid. Blaire is about to snap the photo when her eyes flick to the side… straight to me. And my blood goes cold, because I recognize that look.
“Evie,” Blaire calls. “Can you step in? Just for a second. Staff with Kaia. It’ll be great.”
“I’m just a waitress,” I say, too flat to be polite.
Blaire’s smile stays on, but it sharpens. “You're staff, come on.”
Gus glares at me like I’m the one about to cause trouble. “Evie.”
My wrist itches under my sleeve, cold and insistent, like the binding is listening for me to say the wrong thing.
I swallow hard... and I step out from behind the counter, because apparently today’s theme is humiliation, with a side of trauma.
Kaia’s eyes meet mine.
I walk to the counter and stop at the edge of the frame, keeping as much distance as I can without making it obvious.
Blaire tilts her phone. “Closer.”
My jaw tightens. I take one more step. Kaia shifts closer too—not touching me, not crowding, just… closing the gap because Blaire demands it.
Now I’m close enough that Kaia’s warmth reaches me. Close enough that I can smell her expensive perfume and something clean that doesn’t belong in a greasy diner.
Close enough that my body remembers what it’s like to be sixteen and stupid and laughing in booth three like we had forever.
I stare straight ahead, chin lifted, refusing to look at her again.
Blaire lifts the phone. “Perfect. Hold.”
The shutter clicks.
For a heartbeat, the flash leaves a ghost behind my eyes.
Then it’s done.
I step away from Kaia immediately.
Blaire beams at her screen. “Great. Thank you.”
Gus grunts and goes back behind the counter to reclaim his territory. Kaia stays still for half a second longer, as if she’s reluctant to break the moment. Then she returns to the booth with her girls.
I retreat behind the counter, back into my side of the world, and grip the edge of it until my fingers stop wanting to shake.
Because this does not feel like a homecoming reunion. This feels like a war zone.
And somehow, I’m standing in the middle of it—close enough to smell her, close enough to remember, close enough to get hurt.
Again.