Willow
willow
“ M ocha latte, table three!” Gracie called as she soared past me. Her voice carried behind her as she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me with a line of people out the door. I took a deep breath as I turned to the next customer, my best and brightest smile plastered to my face.
“Hey,” I said, my voice warm. “Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?” The man glanced at the hanging menu board above my head and scanned each item. I shifted my weight from one foot to the next, peeking around him at the line that was growing more antsy by the second.
I drummed my fingers against the worn wood of the counter, the pastel yellow paint chipped and peeling away. “I’ll have a cinnamon roll and an iced matcha.” His smile was gentle as he met my gaze again, and I keyed in the order on the screen before turning it toward him to check that everything was correct.
The people behind him grumbled something I couldn’t make out, but it was our policy to never rush a customer. It might be their first and only time here, and since we were one of the most popular bakeries on the East coast, we wanted to make everyone’s visit special.
But this wasn’t the man’s first time in. He’d been in yesterday, and while he’d been just as slow to order, he’d been kind.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” I asked, keeping my voice light. Gracie rushed back from the kitchen, a tray with plates of pastries and sandwiches balanced on her palm. She floated to a table in the back, her sweet laugh carrying over the chatter in the small building.
“Actually, I’m new in town,” the man started, and my gaze slid back to meet his. “And I was wondering, well…” He huffed out a laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I never do this, can you tell?”
Red crept up the front of his neck and settled on his cheeks. He was a cute guy, probably a little younger than me, with blond hair and dark brown eyes. His skin was tan, like he spent too much time outside, and he was tall. Not as tall or wide as Ronan, but?—
I dug my nails into the wood to force myself to stop thinking about Ronan. Somehow, after last night, it was clearer than ever that we were better off as strangers. I’d needed to purge my feelings to my plants after that interaction, just like I usually did.
It was obvious that, when we weren’t bickering, we were awkward as hell. Which meant I needed to end this stupid lie with my family before it spiraled even deeper.Not that anything would ever come of it. The lie would always remain a lie, and Ronan would always remain my too-awkward-too-hot neighbor.
But for a moment—a brief, fleeting moment that came and went in the same breath—I’d allowed myself to fall into the world I’d created. I’d allowed myself to pretend that he really was my boyfriend, and we really had done all those things I’d told my family about.
Last night when I was talking to my plants, I realized I needed to work harder at really settling into my life here. When I first moved to Cedar Ridge, I’d worked hard at trying to make myself a local, but somewhere along the way, I stopped. I stopped trying. I stopped caring.
I didn’t know if it was when I realized my neighbor hated me, or if it was when I couldn’t make and keep friends outside of Gracie. But it felt like I was never quite one of them. So, I’d found comfort and safety in the privacy of my home, in the solitude of the lighthouse.
And luckily, I lived next to the quietest person in town. Ronan always kept to himself, and because of that, I never let myself get too caught up in him. My relationship with him was predictable. It was a constant I didn’t know I needed. But last night, when he was kind , when he was trying to actually talk to me, when he was doing something different from our norm, I realized how much I needed his grumpiness when we interacted. Without it, I remembered the crush I used to have on him. How likeable he was, even if he was a bit awkward.
His grumpiness was a safe barrier between us. It helped remind me we could never, and would never, be anything but neighbors. Even with all the lies I’d told, his attitude helped keep me rooted in our reality.
Last night, I felt the line blur. Something was different, but I didn’t know what.
Or maybe it was all in my head.
“Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to go out tonight?”
I blinked, reality settling in around me once more. “I’m sorry?”
“It doesn’t have to be a date,” the customer rushed to say. “We could just hang out. You know, get to know each other. I’m Braydon.” His hand shot out across the counter, and I stared at it before sliding my palm against his.
“.”
He smiled, and it was dazzling, but it wasn’t him .
It wasn’t Ronan.
I shook myself.
I knew the only reason he was consuming all my thoughts was because I’d been dodging calls from my family for the last few days. Every time I talked to them, it conjured up all those lies and emotions surrounding him.
I’d let it go on for way too long, and things needed to end.
“I’m working late,” I said gently, scrambling to find a way to turn this seemingly nice man down.
“That’s okay. I don’t have to be up early.” He was eager, like a puppy, and I bit my lip.
Maybe I should just say yes. Would it really be the worst thing in the world to go on a date with a cute guy? But the words just wouldn’t come.
A sigh left me, and I smiled softly. Apologetically. “I’m not really looking to date right now,” I murmured.
“It’s not a date.” His voice wavered, but he didn’t stop. “It’s just two people sharing a meal or a drink or…literally anything you want. We can do anything.”
Someone behind him grumbled a little louder. “I don’t think so,” I said, my smile tightening. “But thanks for the offer.”
“Is everything okay over here?” Gracie asked, sidling up beside me. She rested her hip on the counter, her posture casual and effortless, but I could tell she was on high alert. Her eyes lingered on him, assessing. Scrutinizing.
“It’s all good. He’ll have an iced matcha and a cinnamon roll.” I gestured toward Braydon, who looked irritated at the blow off, but I’d already said no twice. What did he expect?
Giving him his ticket, I watched as he moved to the pickup counter, his gaze burning a hole into the side of my head. With a deep breath, I helped the next customer. Even after he got his food and drink, Braydon lingered, staring at me, watching, but I was too busy to care.
I shook him off as I took orders, and once the line died down, I helped Gracie run them to tables. Somewhere along the way, Braydon left, and as soon as he did, I felt like I could finally breathe again.
The next few hours passed by in a blur of coffee, pastries, and customer-service laughs. And, by the time the Sugar Shack was empty, exhaustion weighed heavy on my chest. I rested my forearms on the counter, my eyelids drifting shut. A deep breath filled my lungs as I listened to Gracie flit around the kitchen, finishing cleaning up.
“Do you ever rest?” I muttered, and she huffed out a laugh.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
“That’s healthy.” I glanced at her as she washed a pan in the sink, her back to me. She worked harder than anyone I’d ever met. A part of me envied that work ethic—maybe if I had just a small piece of it, my father would get off my back. As if on cue, the bell chimed, indicating a new customer had come in, and I groaned softly. “I love that your shop is so popular, but my feet freaking hurt.”
I didn’t have it in me to work like she did. Don’t get me wrong—I worked long hours and hardly sat, but I hated it. Gracie seemed to thrive. I didn’t hate working here , I just hated…not having a purpose of my own.
My life was full of people who had found their passions, who seemed to know exactly who they were. Hell, even Ronan knew who he was—he was a sheriff, a peacemaker, a protector. What was I?
Who was I?
“It’s for me,” she laughed, shutting the water off. I blinked, my thoughts floating away on a phantom wind. She stopped at the mirror by the kitchen door, fixing her wild mess of curls on her head before snatching a lipstick from her apron pocket.
She smeared it on her lips and dabbed some on her cheeks, giving her a little color. That got my attention, and I pushed off the counter.
“Who is it?” I asked, but she ignored me as she strolled into the front, leaving me gaping after her.
What was that about?
Or the better question was: who was that about?
I rushed out, ready to tease her when I skidded to a stop, nearly tripping. “Hey, ,” Benny said, rubbing the back of his neck. Pink tinged his cheeks as he flicked his eyes between Gracie and me.
His ginger hair was cropped on the sides of his head, and longer, slicked back on top. A thick beard coated his strong jaw, and his smile was warm and kind. He was a gentle giant, towering over everyone in town, but I didn’t think he’d ever hurt a fly. He owned the barbershop, aptly named Benny’s Barber Shop, but kept mostly to himself. I didn’t know him all that well, and up until this moment, I didn’t think Gracie did, either.
“Um, hi, Benny.” I stared at my best friend, but she was too busy keeping her gaze carefully away from mine. “What can I get you?”
“I’m helping him,” Gracie rushed out, still not looking at me. Her dimples fought to be set free, but she didn’t let herself smile. “I’ve got it. You can, um…” She finally turned my way, and for the first time in forever, a bright smile spread across her face.
It was a genuine smile. Her eyes twinkled, fine lines showing around them, but it was the happiness radiating from her like a warm summer afternoon that made my breath catch. I couldn’t remember when she’d last looked like that—if she’d ever looked like that.
Tossing my thumb over my shoulder, I gave them a weak smile and backed slowly into the kitchen. Her laughter carried to me as the doors swung closed, and I let out a long breath.
Apparently, my best friend was seeing a man sixteen years older than her.
Go, bestie.
I was happy for her—truly, I was—but a part of me was…jealous? That felt like too strong of a word. It wasn’t that I wanted to be with Benny, or that I was upset that she was happy. It was just…
I wanted to be happy, too.
Maybe I should’ve just said yes to Braydon. It wasn’t like I had any other prospects. That was such a depressing thought.
I gently tugged at my hair tie and shook out my hair. My scalp throbbed as I massaged my fingertips into it, groaning softly. Maybe I would download Pulse again tonight. It was something I’d been thinking about a lot lately, but something about it felt wrong. I didn’t know why—I didn’t have a problem with dating apps or people finding love on them. It just felt like it wasn’t for me .
Vibrations shot through my front apron pocket, pulling me from my thoughts, and I fished my phone out. Dread pooled in my stomach as I stared at my stepmother’s name on the screen. I didn’t want to answer and see what she had to say.
I’d been dodging calls and texts from both her and my father for the last couple of days. I just didn’t have it in me to put on a fake smile and listen to how great their lives were, how amazing Vanessa was, or how excited they were for Greece. It was exhausting.
I knew I needed to let it all go, to work on myself . But it felt impossible. The expectations that I never seemed to measure up to loomed over every conversation, reminding me I was not the person Dad wanted me to be.
And, for the life of me, I didn’t understand. I wanted him to be proud. I wanted him to be happy. But it felt like everything I did just pushed that pipe dream further away. It was never within reach, even when I was a child, it was always far in the distance. It was something I had to sprint for, and when I got closer, he pulled it further away.
And I was tired of chasing. I was tired of pretending that I was living my own life, when deep down I knew I was still living it for him . Just so I could hear those four words: I’m proud of you.
God, I was pathetic. So, so fucking pathetic.
The call went to voicemail, and I let out a long breath. There were a million of them I still needed to listen to, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew I needed to get over it and answer one day…but today wasn’t that day.
I was behind the counter ringing up the last of the afternoon rush, when the blonde woman on the other side dropped her change in her purse as she smiled at me.
“So, the lighthouse is on the other side of town?” she asked, and I nodded.
“It’s technically not in Cedar Ridge, but it’s close enough that we’ve adopted it as our own.” I gave her the address and watched as she jotted it down on a napkin before sliding it into the pocket of her shorts.
“We’ve never been before,” she said, gesturing toward her husband and their kids behind her.
“Oh, it’s amazing.” I took a deep breath, grinning. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I promise you’ll love it. There’s an urban legend about the widow who used to work there. Her husband went out to sea and never returned, so she manned the light for decades, waiting for him. Sometimes, people claim they can see her ghost in the lantern room.”
The woman’s smile faltered, and I knew they wouldn’t visit. It wasn’t a family attraction—it wasn’t an attraction to anyone other than me.
Gracie emerged with the family’s order, handing it over to the father. Excitement filled the kids' faces as the sweet scent of desserts swirled around them. The mother stuffed some bills in the tip jar before they headed out.
I leaned my hip on the counter as Gracie pushed herself onto it, her expression unreadable. “What?” I laughed.
“I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with the lighthouse,” she muttered. It wasn’t said with judgement, but genuine curiosity.
I shrugged, running my hands down my apron. “The legend of the widow is interesting, and the lighthouse itself is beautiful.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to read my mind. “Have you ever thought of studying the legend more in depth? Maybe you could give the widow her identity back? I don’t think anyone has ever learned her true name.”
I scoffed. “I’m not nearly smart enough to figure that out.” I laughed, waving her off. “And who would even care? You said it yourself—no one cares about the lighthouse like I do.”
“But you could make them care,” she offered, and I shrugged again. She braced her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. “And give yourself more credit, . You’re smart .”
My bottom lip slid between my teeth, and a sting of pain shot through me as I peeled off a patch of dry skin. The sting of that was preferable to the sting of emotions behind my eyes.
“Thanks.” I smiled tightly, just wanting to end this conversation, but with the way she was staring at me, I felt like it would last forever. She stripped me bare, exposing every one of my vulnerable layers.
Finally, I forced out a laugh and pulled away. “So, you and Benny?”
Thankfully, she took the bait and changed the subject. Her hands fell to her lap as she rolled her eyes. “We’ve just gone on a couple of dates. It’s nothing serious.”
“It looked serious,” I teased, and she shook her head.
“He’s really nice—too nice, if you know what I mean. But he’s fun to be around, and he makes me feel special.” She smoothed her hands over her hair as she glanced over her shoulder at the door, like she was waiting for him to come through it. “But I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere, you know?”
I frowned as I rested my hand over hers. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, but she waved me off.
“He’s fun for now, and that’s what matters. We’ll cross the breakup bridge when we get to it.” She grinned as she hopped off the counter. “We have to clean up and get some stuff ready for tomorrow.” Slowly, her smile fell as she stared at me. “You okay?”
“I’m great.”
It was a lie, and I knew she could see right through it. But I just nodded, hoping she wouldn’t push.
And thankfully, she didn’t.