Chapter 4
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Lina
Mrs. Callahan’s designer purse hit my counter with the authority of someone who’d never been told no in her life.
“Lina! Perfect timing!” She waved her phone at me before I could even greet her. “Look at this!”
I leaned over while starting her usual vanilla latte, trying to focus on the screen being shoved in my face. The photo showed a man in his early thirties wearing a suit, that generic handsome look of every guy who peaked in his fraternity days and never quite moved on.
“David at his promotion dinner last week,” Mrs. Callahan gushed. “Did I mention he’s regional manager now? Youngest one in the company’s history!”
“That’s nice, Mrs. C.” I focused on the milk steamer, hoping she’d take the hint.
She did not take the hint.
“Very handsome in a suit, don’t you think?” She tilted the phone to catch the light, as if a different angle would suddenly make me interested in her son.
“Still working on myself, Mrs. C,” I said, falling back on my standard response.
“Working on yourself.” She huffed out a breath that could have powered a small wind turbine. “That’s what you said Tuesday. And Monday. And last Thursday. How much working does one person need?”
From his corner table, Matthias set his book down.
The sound was subtle but deliberate, as if the paperback had personally offended him.
He’d been there since his usual time, and I’d been hyperaware of his presence all this time while trying to pretend everything was normal after our almost-kiss during the storm.
“You can work on yourself WITH someone,” Mrs. Callahan continued, apparently taking my distraction as an invitation to press harder. “Preferably someone with good benefits and a company car. David just got a BMW, did I mention that?”
“Several times.” I finished her latte and slid it across the counter, hoping she’d take it and go.
Instead, she planted herself more firmly against the counter. “I just worry about you, sweetheart. All alone up there above the shop. It’s not natural for a pretty girl your age.”
“I’m hardly alone. I have Mika and Vivi, Sarah checks on me daily, and half the town seems invested in my personal life.” I tried to keep my tone light, but exhaustion crept in around the edges.
“That’s not the same as having a man, dear.” Mrs. Callahan’s voice had taken on that particular tone of mothers everywhere who’d decided they knew best. “Someone to take care of you.”
“I take care of myself just fine.”
“But wouldn’t it be nice to not have to? David makes six figures now, you know. You could sell this little shop, be a proper wife.”
“I love my shop.” The words came out harder than I intended.
Mrs. Callahan blinked at my tone but rallied quickly. “Of course you do, dear. But hobbies are different from careers. David could give you security. Stability. Children before it’s too late.”
“I’m twenty-three, not approaching menopause.”
“Time flies faster than you think. And good men don’t stay single forever.” She leaned across the counter conspiratorially. “Actually, David’s stopping by later to pick me up. You two can chat! No pressure, just a friendly conversation.”
“Mrs. C, I appreciate the thought, but I’m really not-”
“Nonsense!” She straightened up, voice carrying across the entire shop. “You’re too pretty to be single! Too pretty to be wasting away behind a coffee counter!”
She turned to scan the shop, her gaze landing on Matthias. “Don’t you think? Sir? Don’t you think our Lina here is too pretty to be wasting her youth on coffee beans and dusty books?”
The temperature in the shop plummeted about ten degrees.
Matthias stood slowly, his movements deliberate as he approached the counter. His gray eyes had gone dark, storm clouds gathering before the lightning strike. When he set his empty cup down, the control in that simple gesture made my skin prickle.
“I think,” he said, his voice carefully level but with an edge that could cut glass, “she’s exactly where she wants to be.”
Mrs. Callahan blinked rapidly, thrown by his tone. “Well. I was only trying to…”
“Help?” He tilted his head slightly, and there was nothing friendly in that gesture.
“By suggesting she give up the business she’s built?
By implying she’s wasting her life because she’s not married to some.
..” his gaze flicked to the phone still in her hand, “corporate middle manager with a leased BMW?”
“Now see here-”
“I see perfectly.” He placed both hands flat on the counter, and I noticed his knuckles were white with tension.
“I see a woman who runs a successful business, who provides a gathering place for her community, who clearly loves what she does. And I see someone trying to diminish that because it doesn’t fit their narrow definition of success. ”
The shop had gone completely silent. Even the espresso machine seemed to be holding its breath.
Mrs. Callahan’s mouth opened and closed several times before she managed, “I only want what’s best for her.”
“Do you?” His voice had dropped lower, and I found myself leaning forward without meaning to. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you want what’s convenient. What’s expected. What would make good gossip at your book club.”
“Matthias.” I found my voice finally, though it came out breathier than intended.
He looked at me then, and the intensity in his gaze made me forget about Mrs. Callahan entirely. There was heat there, yes, but also a protective fury that made my stomach do complicated things.
“Refill?” I asked, desperate to defuse whatever this was before Mrs. Callahan had a heart attack or Matthias actually growled at her.
He nodded once, pushing his cup toward me. I reached for it at the same time he did.
Our fingers brushed.
The world exploded.
Lightning raced up my arm, but this wasn’t the pleasant tingle of attraction from before. This was raw electricity, searing through every nerve ending. My vision went white at the edges, and suddenly I was drowning in a tidal wave of emotions that weren’t mine.
Desperate, aching want that made my knees buckle. Self-loathing so intense it felt as if my chest might cave in. Protective rage and jealousy that wanted to tear apart anyone who threatened what was his-
The cup shattered between us.
I gasped, jerking back as ceramic shards and cold coffee scattered across the counter. My hand burned as though I’d grabbed a live wire, and I could still feel the echo of those foreign emotions rolling through me in waves.
Matthias had gone completely still. The color had drained from his face, leaving him gray as old newspaper. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, and for one terrifying second I thought he might bolt right through the front window.
“I-” I started, but he was already backing away.
“Need to…Bathroom,” he said roughly, the word barely human. Then he turned and practically ran for the back of the shop.
“Good heavens!” Mrs. Callahan pressed a hand to her chest. “What on earth was that?”
“Static electricity,” Mika said smoothly, already moving with paper towels. “Happens sometimes with the old wiring. Very dramatic. Very dangerous. You should probably wait outside for David, Mrs. C. For safety.”
Mrs. Callahan gathered her purse and latte, shooting suspicious glances between me and the bathroom door. “This younger generation,” she muttered. “So much drama over everything.”
The bell chimed as she left, but I barely heard it.
My hand still tingled with phantom electricity, and my chest ached with the ghost of emotions that weren’t mine.
What had I felt? His emotions? That was impossible.
People didn’t just... feel other people’s feelings because of accidental skin contact.
“You okay?” Mika appeared at my elbow, dustpan already full of ceramic shards. “You look like you’ve been electrocuted for real.”
“The cup just... slipped.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
“Right. The cup spontaneously exploded because it slipped. That’s definitely how physics works.” She studied my face. “You sure you’re okay? You look like you’re about to either cry or throw up.”
“I’m fine.”
I mechanically cleaned the spilled coffee, my movements automatic while my brain spun in useless circles. The bathroom door remained firmly closed. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Other customers came and went, but I handled their orders on autopilot, hyperaware of that closed door.
Finally, after fifteen minutes that felt more closely equivalent to fifteen years, the door opened.
Matthias emerged with his face carefully blank, as if someone had pressed a reset button on his expressions. He walked straight to the counter with purposeful strides, already pulling out his wallet.
“Here.” He threw down a fifty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
His voice had gone arctic, all warmth stripped away until only ice remained.
“Wait,” I started, reaching out instinctively. “Can we just-”
“No.” He stepped back before I could get close enough to accidentally touch him again. “We can’t.”
“Matthias…”
“Stay away from me, Lina.” He paused at the door, one hand on the handle, but didn’t turn around. “For your own good.”
Then he was gone, the bell chiming with nauseating cheerfulness in his wake.
“Did he seriously just...” Mika stared at the door with open disbelief. “What kind of Victorian novel bullshit was that? ‘Stay away from me for your own good’? What is this, 2008? Is he going to sparkle in the sunlight next?”
Normally I would have laughed, would have made some joke about brooding mysterious men, but I couldn’t seem to make my mouth work properly.
I spent the rest of my shift jumping every time the bell chimed, certain he’d come back. He’d explain what happened, laugh about the weird static electricity, order another Americano and go back to his corner table where he belonged.
He didn’t.
Four-thirty came and went. Then five. Then six. The corner table sat empty, abandoned, wrong. Other customers took the seat throughout the day, but I wanted to tell them to move. That was his table. Except now he was gone, and he’d told me to stay away from him.
“Want to talk about it?” Vivi asked during the evening lull, a plate of sympathy brownies already in hand.
“Nothing to talk about.” I accepted a brownie anyway, biting into chocolate that tasted of sawdust. “Just a weird customer interaction.”
“The kind of weird where you electrocute each other and he runs away after giving Victorian-era warnings?”
“Mika has a big mouth.”
“Mika is concerned.” Mika herself appeared from the storage room. “That was weird even by Pine Valley standards, and we live in a town that puts silver crosses on doors to ward off beasts.”
I wanted to argue, but what would I say? That when we touched, I’d felt his emotions? That for one terrifying, exhilarating moment, I’d been inside his head? They’d think I’d lost my mind. Hell, I was starting to think I’d lost my mind.
The shop felt different without him in it.
Smaller somehow, as if his presence had been taking up more space than just one corner table.
The carefully curated playlist that usually made me happy sounded tinny and wrong.
Even the coffee seemed bitter, though I’d made it the exact same way I always did.
By the time we closed, the hollow feeling in my chest had expanded until I felt I might float away from sheer emptiness. I kept replaying his final words, searching for some hidden meaning, some clue that this wasn’t really goodbye.
‘Stay away from me, Lina. For your own good.’
What did that even mean? Was he dangerous? Was I? Was whatever happened between us when we touched something he’d experienced before?
I locked up the shop, taking extra time to double-check everything.
The routine movements should have been soothing, but tonight they just emphasized how wrong everything felt.
This morning I’d woken up excited about the day, about seeing him, about maybe finally being brave enough to suggest actual conversation beyond book recommendations.
Now there was just nothing. An empty corner table and fifty dollars on the counter that felt more closely resembling a payoff than a tip.
My hand still tingled where we’d touched.
If I closed my eyes, I could still feel that rush of foreign emotions.
The want that had nearly brought me to my knees.
The self-hatred that made me want to reach out and soothe hurts I didn’t understand, the protective rage that felt raw and absolutely focused on me.
He’d wanted me. In that brief moment of connection, I’d felt how much he wanted me. It went beyond physical attraction, beyond the careful dance we’d been doing for weeks. It was need so intense it had felt almost painful.
So why tell me to stay away?
I touched my hand where our skin had met, half expecting to see burn marks. There was nothing. No evidence that anything unusual had happened except the memory seared into my brain and the ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away.
My phone buzzed. For one stupid second, my heart leaped, thinking maybe he’d somehow gotten my number, maybe he was texting to explain-
It was Sarah. “Heard you had some excitement today. Mrs. Callahan is telling everyone you and some stranger had a lover’s quarrel that involved exploding dishes.”
Great. By tomorrow the whole town would have their own version of what happened.
I typed back that everything was fine, just a minor accident, nothing to worry about. The lies came easier through text where she couldn’t see my face or hear the hollow ring in my voice.
Something had happened when we touched. Something that terrified him enough to run, to push me away with words that sounded more protective than cruel.
‘For your own good.’
I pressed my palms against my eyes until I saw stars, letting myself feel the loss of something that had never really been mine to begin with. I didn’t know what to feel about any of it, and maybe that was the worst part of all.