Cara
The days after Mystery Night were quieter.
Not in a bad way—more like the natural settling that happens after something important, when the air stops feeling charged and starts feeling lived in.
Jasper and I had not talked about Eric again, not directly, though I felt him paying attention in ways he hadn’t before—a hand at my back when we walked anywhere after dark, the way his eyes moved over a room when we entered it together.
He didn’t make it heavy. He just did it, without announcement or explanation, and I let him, because it turned out, being looked after by someone who didn’t need you to be grateful about it was something I had not known I was missing until it was simply there.
Tonight was sister night, which meant Twilight Tavern, which meant Paige behind the bar, Lucy with opinions, Piper with her sweet smile, and Eliza holding everyone together without making a fuss about it.
Jasper was on the evening shift, which I was pretending was incidental to my good mood and entirely failing at.
I stood in front of the mirror for a long time that evening, trying to decide what to wear.
Sister night at the Twilight Tavern had become one of my favorite rituals, but tonight something felt different.
With Eric’s lingering presence, the quiet creepiness of his attention, and the way I had kept shrinking myself to avoid conflict, I wanted to feel solid in my own skin.
I finally chose a soft black sweater and my favorite jeans, added the scarf Eliza had given me, and slipped in small silver earrings.
Simple. Comfortable. Still me—or at least the version of me I was determined to be.
When I walked into Twilight Tavern, the familiar warmth wrapped around me—low light, worn wood, the low hum of conversation, and something slow playing on the jukebox. For a moment, it felt like safety.
Lucy saw me first, and her eyes widened.
“Oh, my god.”
“Don’t start,” I warned, sliding into the booth beside her.
“I’m not saying anything.” She paused for half a second. “Except that you look really good tonight. Extra good. Gorgeous.”
I laughed despite myself. “Thank you. That was almost restrained.”
Eliza lifted her wineglass in silent agreement from across the table. Piper nodded once beside her. Paige, who had just set our drinks down, gave me a slow once-over and said, “Damn, Cara,” before heading back toward the bar.
I felt the flush rise in my cheeks, but let myself settle into the booth. My sisters were already laughing and talking over each other. The candle on the table flickered softly. I was surrounded by the people who knew me best. I should have felt safe.
I had noticed Jasper the moment I walked in.
He was behind the bar, and when the door chimed, he looked up and found me instantly.
He went still, one hand on the tap, then finished the pour with a small private smile that sent warmth curling low in my stomach.
We both knew the rules of sister night—he worked, I sat with my sisters—but the long looks across the room every few minutes were enough.
More than enough. They reminded me I wasn’t alone.
I was halfway through my second glass of wine, laughing with my sisters, when the bell over the front door chimed again.
Lucy went rigid beside me. “Cara,” she said, her voice tight.
I looked up.
Eric stood just inside the door. He was alone, jacket on, hair neatly combed, moving with the deliberate stride of someone who had rehearsed this moment. He didn’t glance around. His eyes locked on our booth, and he started walking straight toward us.
The fragile warmth in my chest plummeted.
Something cold and familiar uncoiled in my gut—the same sick dread I had carried every time he had lingered too long in the shop, every time I caught him watching me.
I had told myself I could handle it. I had told myself it wasn’t that bad.
Now, watching him cross the room with that calm, entitled certainty, I felt the lie crack open.
Eliza turned to look, and her expression hardened. Piper set her glass down carefully. Lucy’s hand found my forearm under the table and squeezed hard. Across the room, Paige had already clocked him and was moving. Behind the bar, Jasper had gone completely still, watching Eric approach.
Eric reached our booth before either of them could intercept.
He stopped at the end of the table, hands loose at his sides, and looked down at me with cold certainty. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot. About what you really need.”
I kept my voice even, though my pulse hammered in my ears. “I’ve asked you to leave me alone. That’s what I need.”
He ignored me completely, voice smooth and condescending.
“You’re wasting yourself in that little bookshop.
Day after day, making tea, stacking books, going home to those cats, as if that’s some kind of life.
I’ve been watching you. You smile like it’s enough, but we both know it’s not.
You’re playing small. You deserve more than quiet and safe.
You need someone who’s actually going to push you.
Someone who won’t accept your timid little no’s because they know you don’t really mean them. ”
His words landed like stones in still water, each one stirring up years of doubt I thought I had buried.
The bar had gone quiet around us. I could feel the weight of eyes turning our way, but all I could hear was the echo of every time I had stayed silent, every time I had smiled politely instead of pushing back.
Lucy’s grip on my arm tightened. Paige was close now, just behind Eric’s shoulder. Jasper had left the bar and was approaching fast from the other side.
Eric leaned in and closed his hand around my wrist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “Come on. Let me show you. Dance with me. Stop pretending your quiet life is what you want.”
He pulled—hard.
My chair scraped loudly against the floor as he started hauling me up. I hadn’t decided to stand—he was forcing me to. The pain in my wrist flared, and something deep inside me finally shattered.
I wasn’t afraid anymore, and I knew if I wanted peace, I was going to have to fight for it. A raw, blistering rage I had swallowed for years, for decades, rose so fast it burned my throat.
I shoved him with every ounce of strength I possessed, palm flat against his chest, my whole body behind it. He wasn’t expecting it. He stumbled back a step, his grip loosening enough for me to rip my wrist free.
“Don’t you ever touch me again,” I said, voice loud and shaking with months of pent-up fury.
The bar had gone dead silent.
Eric stared at me, stunned.
I didn’t look away. The words poured out of me, trembling but unstoppable.
“I like my bookshop. I like my tea. I like my cats. I like my quiet evenings and my knitting and my life exactly the way it is. None of that makes me broken, boring, or in need of rescue. You keep telling me I don’t know what I want.
Let me make this perfectly clear so there’s no confusion: I do not want you.
I have never wanted you. Every time I’ve said no, it was real.
I meant it. And if you can’t hear a woman say no and accept it the first time, without pushing or trying to get around it, that’s not a small issue or a misunderstanding.
It’s a serious goddamn problem. And it matters.
” My hands were shaking violently now, but my voice stayed strong, cracking only at the edges.
“I’m not timid. I’m not confused. I know exactly who I am and what I want, and it will never be you. Do you understand me?”
He opened his mouth.
“Yes or no?”
The silence stretched, unbearable.
“Yes,” he finally muttered.
“Good. Now get out of my sister’s bar. Stay away from my bookshop. Stay away from the Coffee Cabin. If I see you within a hundred feet of me again, I will call Paige, and she will make sure you regret it.”
From behind him, Paige’s voice cut through, cold and clear: “I will absolutely make you regret it.”
Eric’s face twisted into something ugly.
“You think yelling at me in front of your sisters changes anything? You’re still the same sad, boring woman you’ve always been.
Tomorrow you’ll be back in that dusty shop pretending this little outburst meant something.
Enjoy your new personality while it lasts—it won’t. ”
He reached out again, hand moving toward my arm.
Everything happened at once and in slow motion simultaneously—the way time moves when something you have been dreading finally arrives.
Jasper moved.
He stepped up beside me in one smooth motion, putting himself between Eric and me with the calm efficiency of a man who had decided exactly what he was going to do. I felt the shift in the air around me—the sudden solidity of him there, the warmth of his arm brushing mine.
Eric’s hand shot forward and shoved hard against Jasper’s chest.
The sound of it—the flat, sharp impact—cut through the noise of the bar like a crack of ice. Everything stopped. The music kept playing, but every conversation in the room died at once, and I felt rather than heard the collective intake of breath from the people around us.
Jasper didn’t move backward an inch.
He caught Eric’s wrist mid-shove, twisted it sharply behind his back, and used the momentum to spin him around in one controlled motion.
Eric stumbled, off-balance and startled, and Jasper drove him forward—palm planted between his shoulder blades, steering him with ruthless efficiency toward the exit.
I stood frozen for a half second. Then Lucy had my arm, and Paige was already moving, and we were all out of the booth and following.