Cara
Midmorning settled into Pine & Pages—steady and familiar, the quiet stretch between early errands and the lunch crowd.
I moved through the shop on autopilot, answering questions, ringing up paperbacks, recommending titles I’d loved for years.
This part of my day usually grounded me.
Today, my thoughts kept wandering anyway.
The night before lingered in small flashes—the Twilight Tavern’s warm light, Jasper’s surprised smile, the way our conversation had felt unfinished even though it had been perfectly normal.
Nothing had happened. I knew that. And yet my brain insisted on replaying it like it was a paragraph I hadn’t quite parsed correctly.
I straightened a stack of books near the front window and glanced outside. Honeybrook Hollow moved past in its usual rhythm—someone crossing the street with a coffee, Piper’s bakery already busy across the way.
Focus.
My phone buzzed against the counter, and I was thankful for the distraction. Eric Whitmore, the old high school classmate I’d gone to dinner with. Of course. As if I wasn’t already an emotional mess? I’d told him we could be friends, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to start texting me.
Eric: Morning. I was thinking about what you said about being friends. I’m glad we reconnected, and I saw your sign—I’ll see you on Mystery Night.
I stared at the message. I’d been clear. Kind, yes, but clear. I’d even gone over the conversation afterward, reassuring myself I hadn’t left anything open-ended. Apparently, I’d been wrong. Maybe I should have ghosted him. Or haunted him, as my grandma had called it.
I didn’t respond. I’d probably been too nice before—Grandma was right about that.
I tried not to be a pushover, but the fact that I’d rather die than hurt someone’s feelings had been a recurring problem in my life.
I turned back to the window and watched the street for a moment longer than I needed to, like maybe focusing on something else would knock my thoughts back into order.
I set the phone face down and went back to adjusting a display, irritation buzzing just under my skin.
Jasper was coming to Mystery Night.
The thought slipped in without permission, settling somewhere just under everything else.
Not distracting enough to derail me, but present in a way I couldn’t ignore.
He hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t made it sound like a favor.
Just… said yes. I picked up another book, smoothing my thumb over the cover before setting it into place.
It didn’t mean anything. People came to things like this all the time.
It wasn’t personal. Except it felt a little personal.
I exhaled slowly and forced my attention back to the table in front of me.
The door opened just as I finished stacking the new arrivals on the front display.
I didn’t look up right away. Midday had been steady—nothing overwhelming, just enough people drifting in and out to keep me moving.
I adjusted the top book so the cover sat flush with the others, then reached for the next one.
“Cara.”
My hand stilled.
Eric stood just inside the door, one hand still resting on it like he’d pushed it open and decided to linger there, watching me for a second before stepping all the way in. He smiled when I looked up, easy and unhurried, like I’d been expecting him.
I needed a second that I didn’t get. He’d texted me that morning, and now he was here, in my shop, in the middle of the day. I was aware of the counter between us and was glad for the separation. “Hey,” I said, and was proud of how even it came out.
He let the door swing shut and walked over, his gaze moving around the shop before settling back on me with the ease of someone who’d decided in advance that he was welcome. “This place looks good.”
“Thanks.”
“It always did, back when your grandfather ran it,” he said. “But you made it better.” His eyes stayed on mine longer than they needed to. “You always made things better.”
I set down the book in my hand and stepped around the display, putting a little more space between us. “What can I help you with?”
He smiled at that, as if the question amused him. “Do I need a reason?”
“I guess not,” I said. “But it helps.”
“Fair enough.” He closed the distance I’d just made, easy about it, like he hadn’t noticed. He leaned a hand on the edge of the display. “I was in the area.”
“You’re always in the area lately.”
“Honeybrook Hollow is a small town.” He shrugged, still smiling. “Hard to be far from anything.” He tilted his head slightly. “You didn’t text back.”
I became very aware of how far I was from the counter and how little space there was between us now. “I’m working.”
“Of course.” He nodded, gracious about it, and I recognized the graciousness for what it was—not understanding, just patience. The patience of someone who had decided that the answer they wanted would eventually come. “And outside of work—you meant what you said the other night.”
It wasn’t quite a question. “I did,” I said.
“Okay,” He said it warmly, like I’d confirmed something he already understood and wasn’t bothered by, and something in my stomach pulled tight because that wasn’t what I’d confirmed at all.
“I’m not trying to push anything, Cara. I just think—” He paused, his smile softening into something more careful, more considered.
“We were good together, back then. I don’t think that just goes away. ”
“It was high school,” I said. “We were friends. Lab partners—”
“Sure.” He gave a small laugh. “But you remember it. I can tell.” He looked at me with an openness that was almost convincing. “I think you’re being careful. Which makes sense. I just don’t want to get in the way of something that could actually be good.”
I wanted to take a step back and couldn’t think of a way to do it that wouldn’t be obvious.
I wanted to say something that would close this down cleanly and permanently, and I couldn’t find the words that would do it without making it into something bigger.
So I did what I always did. I stood there, and I smiled, and I kept my voice level, and I said his name like a soft boundary I was praying he’d respect. “Eric—”
“No pressure,” he said, raising one hand lightly.
“Really. I just wanted to say it.” He glanced around the shop, the smile settling back into something relaxed, and I felt the subject close over like water, smooth and immediate, as if he hadn’t just spent five minutes not listening to me.
“Mystery Night sounds great, by the way. I’ve been telling people about it. ”
I watched how he stood in my shop as if he’d always been welcome here, like the last two minutes had been a pleasant exchange between two people on the same page when it was not. “Great,” I murmured.
The bell chimed, and Lucy walked in. She took one look at the two of us and came to the counter without slowing, dropping her bag with a thud that was just slightly louder than necessary.
Her voice was bright when she spoke, but I caught the way her eyes moved between us, clocking everything in about half a second.
“Hey,” she said, stepping up beside me close enough that our shoulders almost touched. I wanted to hug her.
Eric glanced at her. “Hey, Lucy.”
“Eric.” She didn’t smile. Just his name, flat and complete.
“I was just telling Cara how much I’m looking forward to Mystery Night,” he said pleasantly.
“Great,” Lucy said.
“You’ll be there too?”
“I will.”
“Good.” He smiled at her, then back at me, and his gaze lingered a beat longer than it needed to, warm and certain, like he was leaving me with something to think about rather than saying goodbye.
Then he straightened. “I’ll let you get back to it.
Just wanted to stop by.” He lifted a hand in an easy wave, turned, and walked to the door.
The bell chimed as he left, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click.
I stood there for a second, the shop quiet again around me.
“What was that?” Lucy said, not moving.
“He just stopped by,” I said.
She turned to look at me with an expression that suggested she found that answer insufficient in every possible way. “Cara.”
“I know,” I said quietly.
Lucy let out a slow breath beside me. For a moment, she didn’t say anything.
The shop felt different the second the door closed behind him—bigger, somehow.
Quieter in a way that had nothing to do with noise.
I hadn’t realized how much of my energy had been going toward holding myself steady until I didn’t have to anymore.
My shoulders dropped about half an inch on their own.
“Okay,” Lucy said. “You don’t have to explain. I get what’s happening.”
“I know you do,” I said.
“That was—” She stopped, seemed to decide against whatever she’d been about to say. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I reached for the edge of the display, adjusting a book that didn’t need it, mostly just to have something to do with my hands. “He’s just persistent,” I said. “He’ll lose interest eventually. He did before.”
Lucy pressed her lips together. “Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced, but she didn’t push it either.
I kept straightening books that didn’t need straightening, because it was easier than standing still with the conversation.
I ran my fingers along the spine of a paperback, aligning it with the others even though it was already straight. “I should’ve just said no from the start. Grandma was right. I’m too nice.”
“You’re not too nice,” Lucy said. “You just—” She paused. “You don’t like making things hard.”
“Same thing.”
She gave a small, quiet laugh. “Not exactly.”
We stood there for a moment, the shop settling back around us. I looked at the door, then back down at the table.
“He’s coming Friday,” I said.
“Yeah.” Lucy picked up one of the flyers from the counter and turned it over in her hands. “If he’s weird, just—” She stopped again. “You’ll be fine. You handled it.”
I looked at her. It wasn’t like her to trail off like that.
“I’ll be there,” she added, meeting my eyes. “I just—I don’t want to make it worse for you if I say something. I mean, I’m the drink-throwing type. I don’t want to make it awkward for you.”
“You won’t.”
She nodded, but something in her expression didn’t quite settle. “Okay,” she said.
Neither of us said anything else. I went back to the books.
I went back to the display, straightening a book that didn’t need it.
Then the door opened, startling us both.