Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
TESSA
Ahigh-pitched squeal pierces the air as I step into the coffee shop. Layla rushes around the counter and tackles me in a hug so enthusiastic that we nearly topple over.
“Oh my God, you’re here!” she shrieks into my hair.
I laugh, squeezing her back just as hard. “I missed you too.”
Bob and Joyce emerge from the back room, their faces lighting up the second they see me. They hurry toward us, and suddenly, I’m wrapped in a group embrace, surrounded by the people who’ve been the closest thing to family I’ve ever had.
“My girl,” Joyce says, pulling back to cup my cheek in her weathered hand. “How we’ve missed you.”
“It hasn’t been the same without you,” Bob adds, his voice gruff with emotion.
A slight pang of guilt settles in my chest. Bob was so close to retirement, and my absence has meant more work for them both. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Joyce cuts in, reading my expression. “You did what you needed to do. We’re just happy you’re safe.”
She calls over her shoulder to the wide-eyed boy behind the counter, who can’t be more than eighteen. He looks absolutely terrified by life.
“Hey, Billy, we need some refreshments,” she says warmly, then turns back to me. “What would you like, sweetheart?”
“I’ll take my honey latte with oat milk, please,” I say, offering Billy an encouraging smile.
Joyce rattles off four drink orders, and panic immediately flashes across Billy’s face.
Layla chuckles from across the room. “Don’t worry, buddy,” she calls out. “You’re totally ready. You’ve got this.”
He nods, though he doesn’t look remotely convinced, and starts fumbling with the machine, muttering under his breath.
The four of us settle into a corner table—the same one where I used to take my breaks, where Layla and I would steal moments to gossip between the rush hours. It feels both familiar and strange to be sitting here as a customer, not an employee.
Layla leans forward, covering her mouth with her hand, and whispers, “He is so not ready.”
Joyce grins, waving a hand dismissively. “Well, this will give him a safe place to practice.” She reaches across the table and taps my hand, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So tell us everything. We’ve missed you. What have you been up to?”
I look at the three faces around this table, and my chest tightens with how much I’ve missed them. I think about the past month, how much my life has changed, how much I’ve changed since I walked out of this shop with Logan.
In so many ways, I feel like a completely different person.
I’m no longer scared. I don’t walk on eggshells anymore.
I don’t live with the constant fear that love will turn on me, that one wrong word or look will set off an explosion I can’t predict or prevent.
Preston has all but disappeared from my life, and I feel such overwhelming relief knowing he’s actually honoring the restraining order.
“I only have my thesis paper left,” I say, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “Then I graduate. And…” The words feel surreal even as I say them. “I’m so in love it hurts.”
Joyce gasps, her hand flying to her chest. Bob’s eyebrows shoot up. Layla squeals and grabs my hand across the table.
“Everything is great,” I say again, beaming so hard my cheeks ache. “Everything is so, so great.”
“Well, tell us all the details,” Joyce singsongs, leaning forward eagerly. “Don’t leave anything out.”
So I do. I tell them everything—well, almost everything.
I tell them all about my time with Logan—the basketball games with his teammates’ wives and girlfriends, the farmers’ market, the bike with the pink tassels, the talks, the meals, and the games.
I gush over the beautiful firsts I never thought I’d get to experience.
I share more than I ever have, and it feels good to be able to.
Before, there was so little about my reality that I could reveal.
I talk about how deeply I’ve fallen for him, how fast it happened, and how different it feels from anything I’ve known before.
With Preston, everything happened quickly, too, but his love was never real. What I have with Logan is steady and safe. I’m learning to let go of the notion that something so good has to come with a price.
Joyce reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Oh, sweetheart. You deserve all of it. Every bit of happiness.”
“I’m just so happy for you,” Bob says gruffly, clearing his throat.
Billy appears then, carefully balancing a tray with four drinks. He sets them down with visible relief, and Joyce immediately takes a sip.
“Perfect, Billy,” she says warmly even though her smile is forced. “You’re getting so good at this.”
He beams and hurries back to the counter.
“Well,” she sighs, “he tried. That’s all one can do.”
I take a sip of my latte and have to fight a grimace. I’m not sure what he put in the cup, but it wasn’t honey.
After a while, Joyce takes her barely drunk coffee and stands, collecting our full cups.
“All right,” she says, “I think I’m going to go rescue Billy and remake these.
” She looks down at the offensive drinks in her hands.
“Plus, I think you two could use some catching up without us old people eavesdropping.”
“You’re not old,” Layla protests immediately.
“Not at all,” I agree.
Joyce smiles, her expression soft. “That’s why you’ll always be my favorites. But seriously—enjoy each other. We’ll catch up more later.” She heads toward the counter, and Bob rises to follow.
“It was good to see you, kid,” he says, squeezing my shoulder as he passes. “Real good.”
Once they’re gone, Layla leans across the table, her expression shifting from joy to something more serious. “So… what’s going on with you-know-who? I can’t even say his name without wanting to punch something.”
“Honestly?” I lower my voice instinctively even though Preston isn’t here. “He’s stayed away. I haven’t had any contact with him since I left.”
Her shoulders drop in visible relief. “Oh. That’s good. That’s really, really good.”
“I know. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? For him to show up or find a way around the restraining order or…” I shake my head. “But nothing. Radio silence.”
Layla studies my face. “Do you think he’s really going to stay away?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Part of me thinks he’s just biding his time. But another part of me…” I pause, letting myself hope. “Could it be that things are actually working out? That I get to just… be happy?”
“Yes,” Layla says firmly, reaching across to grab my hand. “Yes, Tessa. You absolutely get to be happy. You’ve earned it.”
I want to believe her.
And for the first time in my life, I think I actually might.
Joyce returns a few minutes later with a fresh honey latte, this one no doubt perfectly made. She sets it down in front of me with a satisfied smile.
“There,” she says. “That’s more like it.”
I take a sip, and it’s perfect, exactly how I remember. “Thank you,” I say, warmth spreading through my chest. “For everything. Not just the coffee.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.” She squeezes my shoulder. “You know where to find us.”
Layla walks me to the door, pulling me into one more tight hug. “Come back soon, okay? And not in another month. I need my girl around more.”
“I promise,” I say, meaning it. “I’ll visit more. I’ve missed this place.”
“We’ve missed you,” she says, then lowers her voice. “And I want all the other details about Logan next time. The stuff you couldn’t say in front of Joyce and Bob.”
I laugh, my cheeks heating. “Deal.”
Bob waves from behind the counter, and Joyce blows me a kiss as I push open the door, coffee in hand.
The afternoon sun is bright, almost blinding after the dimness of the shop. I take a step onto the sidewalk, already thinking about the bike ride through the park Logan mentioned wanting to take later—
A piercing, familiar grip clamps around my arm.
Pain shoots through my bicep as fingers dig in brutally, yanking me forward so hard I stumble. My coffee slips from my hand, the cup hitting the pavement and exploding in a spray of hot liquid and foam.
I gasp, my head whipping around.
Preston.
His face is twisted with rage, his eyes wild. He’s in a suit—expensive, perfectly tailored—but there’s nothing polished about him now. He looks feral.
“You think you can just leave me?” he snarls, dragging me toward the street where a black car idles at the curb. “You think you can embarrass me like this? Make me look like a fool?”
“Let go—” I try to pull away, but his grip tightens, bruising, and terror floods my system.
This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. The other shoe dropping.
“Let go!” I scream, louder this time, trying to dig my heels in.
“Shut the fuck up—”
There’s a blur of motion, and suddenly, Preston’s grip is gone.
He’s on the ground, face down on the concrete, and Cole is on top of him. He has one knee pressed into Preston’s back, wrenching his arms behind him with brutal efficiency.
“Don’t fucking move,” Cole growls.
Preston bucks beneath him, twisting, and his elbow connects with Cole’s jaw. But Cole barely flinches. He shifts his weight, pressing harder, and I hear Preston grunt in pain.
“Get off me!” Preston roars. “Do you know who I am? I’ll have your job—I’ll have you arrested—”
“Yeah?” Cole says calmly, pulling Preston’s arms back farther. “Good luck with that.”
Preston tries to twist again, and this time, Cole drives his fist into Preston’s face. There’s a sickening crunch, and blood immediately starts pouring from Preston’s nose.
“I think you broke my nose, motherfucker!” Preston screams, his voice high and panicked now instead of threatening.
“Don’t care,” Cole says flatly. He produces a zip tie from his pocket and secures Preston’s wrists behind his back with practiced ease.
I’m frozen on the sidewalk, my whole body shaking, my arm throbbing where Preston grabbed me. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can only stand there and watch as Cole pulls out his phone with one hand, keeping Preston pinned with the other.
“Yeah, this is Cole Donovan with Apex Security. I need police at The Grind coffee shop on Maple Street. I have a subject in custody for assault and violation of a restraining order.” He rattles off the address, his voice calm and professional, like this is just another Tuesday for him.
Behind me, I hear the coffee shop door burst open. Layla calls out, voice sharp with panic. “Tessa! Oh my God—”
But I can’t turn around. I’m still staring at Preston, at the blood running down his face, at the way he’s thrashing on the ground like a trapped animal.
“You bitch!” he screams at me, spitting blood. “You fucking bitch! You think this is over? You think some piece of paper is going to stop me? I’ll find you—I’ll always find you—”
“Shut your mouth,” Cole says, pressing his knee harder into Preston’s spine. Preston yelps in pain.
Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder.
Layla is beside me now, her arm around my shoulders. “Tessa, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
I look down at my arm. Bruises are already forming—four distinct finger marks, dark and angry against my pale skin.
“I’m okay,” I say, but my voice sounds far away. Disconnected.
The police arrive within minutes—two squad cars, lights flashing. Officers jump out, and Cole calmly explains the situation while keeping Preston restrained.
One of the officers takes photos of my arm. Another reads Preston his rights while hauling him to his feet. Preston is still screaming, still threatening, blood smeared across his face and the front of his white shirt.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with!” he shouts as they force him toward the squad car. “My father owns half this city! I’ll have all your badges—I’ll sue every single one of you—”
The officer pushing him into the car just shakes his head. “Sure, buddy. Whatever you say.”
The door slams shut, muffling Preston’s continued threats.
And then it’s quiet.
Cole approaches me, his jaw already starting to bruise where Preston’s elbow caught him. “You okay?” he asks, his voice gentle now.
I nod, but I’m still shaking. My whole body trembles with adrenaline I can’t burn off. “Thank you,” I manage. “Thank you for—if you hadn’t been there—”
“That’s why I’m here,” he says simply. “That’s the job.”
But it’s more than a job. I can see it in his eyes—the genuine concern and the anger on my behalf.
“He was waiting,” I say, the realization hitting me. “He was waiting for the right moment. Watching. Planning.”
Cole nods grimly. “Looks like it. But he fucked up. Now he’s got assault charges on top of the restraining order violation. He’s not going to bother you for a while.”
I want to believe him. I want to feel relief.
But all I feel is sad.
I hate that Preston wasn’t leaving me alone like I thought. My heart hurts with the reality that I let myself hope, even for a second, that I could be free.
Layla squeezes my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you back inside. You’re shaking.”
I let her guide me back into the coffee shop, where Joyce and Bob are waiting with worried faces. Behind us, the police finish their report and drive away, taking Preston with them.
Cole stands in front of the coffee shop, his phone already out, no doubt calling Logan.
And I realize, as I sink into a chair and Joyce presses a glass of water into my trembling hands, that this isn’t over.
It might never be over.