Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Jane McCaffrey actually showed up.
From his seat at the table across the room, Nik watched as Jane paused to scan the small café crowd. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been bracing himself for her to be a no-show until he saw her familiar figure appear in the doorway. After all, how many hours had he spent staring at doorways waiting for her to walk in? Practicing what he wanted to say to a voice that never materialized on the other end of the phone?
He took a moment to watch her before she noticed him. In high school, the sight of her used to have his pulse quickening, but now it was hammering so loudly he was afraid it would drown out the music coming through the café speakers. Everything about her was familiar as she stood there scanning the room for him. It felt like a week since they had last been in this café together, sitting at their usual table in the corner, planning their future. College at Cornell, then they’d move to a city with a music scene where she could play gigs and he could go to med school.
It had all sounded so easy. Their whole lives ahead of them, anything was possible .
But ten years had passed, and they were strangers now. He eyed the bruise on her cheek, the tiny lines of fatigue around her eyes. Those were only physical changes, but they hinted at a whole world beneath the surface that he had no part of.
Jane’s gaze lingered on their old table in the back corner. It had been empty when he got here, but Nik had intentionally chosen to sit in the middle of the room instead. Jane’s head swung in his direction, and Nik could tell the exact moment she spotted him because her eyes softened and her lips curved into a hint of a smile, almost as if she couldn’t help herself.
His heart tightened in his chest.
Jane made her way over, and he stood. If she were anyone else—Hannah or Ali or someone he was dating—he would have greeted her with a hug. Instead, he helped her with her jacket, taking care not to brush her neck with his hand. Underneath, she wore simple black leggings and a dark green T-shirt that slid off one shoulder. Nik dragged his attention from the line of her collarbone, trying not to think about the last time he’d seen that expanse of skin.
“Hi,” she said nervously, once she was seated across from him.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Sure.” Jane picked up her menu and looked it over. “Oh, they still have those peanut butter brownies,” she said, her eyes lighting up.
At that moment, a plate with a brownie landed in the middle of the table, followed by two napkin rolls of silverware.
“Thanks,” he said to the server who had delivered the dessert, and then he gave Jane a rueful smile. “Order whatever you want, but I thought this might interest you.”
Smiling, Jane grabbed a fork, carving off a bite of gooey chocolate and sliding it into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she murmured, closing her eyes in happiness, and something in Nik’s abdomen clenched. He really was a glutton for punishment. Why hadn’t he ordered the plain scone instead? But then Jane opened her eyes and grinned at him, and he was tempted to call the server back and ask her to put the whole damn pan of brownies on his tab.
“I can’t believe you remembered,” she said, already digging in for another bite.
“Seriously? Of course I remembered. The crime scene in my mom’s kitchen?” Nik prompted.
In the last quarter of their senior year, Jane had begged Pete, the café’s owner, to share his brownie recipe so she could take it to college with her. Pete had good-naturedly refused, claiming it was his mother’s secret recipe and he wasn’t at liberty to give it out. So, Nik had stocked up on baking supplies and printed out a dozen different recipes. They’d spent an entire rainy Saturday attempting to recreate Jane’s dream brownies, recipe by recipe. By the end of the day, the kitchen counters, the oven, and both Nik and Jane were covered in more melted chocolate and peanut butter than they’d stirred into the brownies. They never did figure out the recipe, and it took them two hours to clean up, but Nik still looked back on it as one of those perfect, sepia-toned days when every moment felt like a beginning.
Jane’s shoulders shook with laughter, obviously remembering at least the mess, if not the rest of it. “I don’t think I ate brownies for a month after that chocolate bloodbath.”
“Who are you kidding? It was a week.”
Jane took another bite of brownie. “Fine, it was a week.” She looked from the brownie, half-eaten now, to Nik. “I’m hogging the whole thing. Here. You should have some.”
He leaned back, holding up his hands. “I can have one of Pete’s brownies whenever I want. This is all you.” Nik hitched his chin at the plate. “Though say the word and I’ll send you some whenever you want.”
Her smile dipped slightly, and she shrugged. “We have some pretty good bakeries in LA. ”
Los Angeles. Nik could have sat there all day questioning her about that one topic alone… Why did you move there without telling me? How could you let ten years go by before you came back? But there was a wariness in her eyes that told him he shouldn’t cross those lines. It needled him, her caution where he was concerned, because they’d always been so open with each other.
He felt like a circus performer perched precariously on a tightrope, suspended between the burning desire to interrogate her about everything she hadn’t told him and the fear that it might send her running for another decade. Nik could recognize that simply getting her to meet for coffee was a win, and he should approach cautiously. But at the same time, he might not have another chance.
“So, how did all of that turn out for you?” he asked.
She blinked, momentary confusion crossing her face. “You mean?—”
“Los Angeles.” He cocked his head. “I always assumed you headed out there to make it in the music business.”
“Oh.” Jane took her time setting the fork down on the plate. “Yeah. I did. I mean, LA is the place to be for the music business, right?”
“Is that what you’re doing out there?” He’d googled her, obviously, but hadn’t found a website, any social media, or evidence of upcoming shows. But that didn’t mean Jane didn’t have those things. Maybe she played with a band or used a stage name.
“Um.” Jane reached for her napkin and absently folded it into smaller and smaller squares. “I’m still working on it, I guess you could say.” She pressed her lips together as if she were choosing her words carefully. “LA is a hard place. I don’t think I had any idea when I left here.” Her cheeks flushed pink.
Did she regret going and leaving everyone behind?
He shoved that thought away. Maybe she just felt uncomfortable talking about it because she hadn’t made it in the music industry yet. Could that be why she hadn’t reached out for all these years? She’d taken off to follow her dream, it hadn’t materialized yet, and she thought people in this town would judge her?
Some would. He remembered Mrs. Swanson’s criticisms in Ford’s General Store yesterday. But those were the grumpy old timers and people like her dad. Jane couldn’t think that Nik would be one of those people, or any of their friends, like Hannah and Ali.
“Jane,” he said. “I think you were brave to leave this town and go for it in LA.”
She looked up sharply. “You do?”
He settled back in his chair, feigning a nonchalance he absolutely did not feel. “I mean, I admit I don’t completely understand why you decided not to go to Cornell.” Or why you didn’t ever reach out , he thought to himself but sensed he shouldn’t say. “But if LA was what you wanted, it took a lot of guts to go out there and make it on your own.”
Something about that had her swallowing hard. Nik hated every minute that he didn’t know what was putting that sadness in her eyes. That she didn’t trust him enough to share her real life. “I just want to know one thing,” he continued.
Jane nodded.
“Are you happy?”
She blinked rapidly, staring down at the napkin she was now squeezing the life out of. Who was he kidding? Nik was the complete opposite of nonchalant. He leaned forward, reaching across the table to still her nervous hands. As soon as their skin brushed, an electric current shot up his arm.
Her gaze flew to his and something like longing… something like that desire he’d seen on her sidewalk today, mirroring his own emotions… crossed her face.
His chest filled with a warmth he hadn’t felt in… ten years.
When his last girlfriend had broken up with him a couple of months ago, she’d accused him of being cold, detached. I can’t get close to you , she’d told him with regret. Those words had lingered because his girlfriend in college had said a version of the same thing. Nik had never thought of himself as cold . He was still close with Hannah and Ali and had built new friendships with his coworkers at the hospital. His patients loved him.
But sitting here, a connection stretching between them that had survived a decade of time, three thousand miles of distance, and so many unanswered questions, he suddenly understood what his former girlfriends were talking about.
This.
He hadn’t been able to give them this .
“Happy.” Jane breathed out the word like a sigh, her eyes dropping to their hands intertwined in the middle of the table. “I guess you could say I’m still a work in progress.”
Nik remained silent, giving her space to say more.
After a moment, she lifted her chin, jaw set in resolve and determination in her eyes. “But I’m a lot closer than I’ve been in a long time. Maybe coming back here has helped me realize that I can be brave.”
Nik sensed his opening, but before he could speak, someone approached the table on his left. Damn it.
“Hi,” the server said, holding up a notepad. “Can I get you another brownie? Or some coffee?”
Jane slid her hand out from under Nik’s and sat back in her chair. “Yes, please.” She gave the server an extra wide grin, almost as if to counteract the sadness that had been in her eyes moments ago. “Coffee and another brownie would be great.”
Nik ordered a cup of coffee, and once the server headed back across the café, he turned back to Jane. “Tell me about being brave…”
But Jane cut him off with a wave. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m probably feeling a little nostalgic being back here after all this time. My life really isn’t that exciting.” She shrugged, all traces of the emotion on her face wiped clean, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes in its place. “I want to hear about what you’ve been up to.”
“Jane…” Nik growled in frustration over her deflection. And then he leaned forward and said the thing he’d promised himself at the beginning of this coffee date, or whatever it was they were doing here, that he wasn’t going to say: “What happened to us? How did we end up like this? Especially after…”
That night.
“Nik.” Jane looked away. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”
“How about the truth, for once?”
She stared at the remains of the brownie on the plate. “The truth might…” She cringed like she hated to break it to him. “… disappoint you.”
His eyes roamed over her, heart slowly sinking. Was it possible the night at the overlook hadn’t meant as much to her as it had meant to him?
“Look.” She sighed. “It was a long time ago. Can’t we just catch up like old friends? Do we have to make this a whole thing?” Her voice was cold, distant, a tone he’d never heard from her before.
Was it possible that none of their relationship had meant as much to her as it had to him? His mother had suggested it when he’d spent that first summer after Jane had left lying on the floor playing sad songs on repeat. Jane is a girl with big dreams. Maybe she needs to spread her wings and not be held back by teenage infatuation.
But he’d known better than that. He’d known her . Or, at least, he’d thought he had. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
The server came to drop off their drinks, an interruption Nik was now grateful for, because he was trying to catch his brain up to the present when it was still swirling around in the past. He focused on stirring cream into his coffee.
“So, you ended up coming back to Linden Falls after college and med school?” Jane asked, cupping her hands around her mug.
Nik nodded slowly. Something like that.
“And you’re a doctor now?” Jane prompted.
Nik took a sip of his coffee, wishing it were something stronger. “I’m in my third year of my residency at Linden Falls Hospital.”
“Which department?”
“Emergency.”
“Emergency?” she whispered, and he knew he wasn’t imagining that tiny hitch in her voice.
Eighteen years ago, Nik’s dad’s heart had stopped when he was working at his job at an insurance agency over in Westbrook. His colleagues had called 911, but nobody in the small office of insurance salesmen had known enough about cardiac arrest to administer CPR. By the time the ambulance had arrived from across town, his dad was already gone.
It had been the worst day of Nik’s life. He’d been ten at the time, and for a dark couple of months, he’d wished he could die, too. Jane had come over every day after school to sit with him on the porch swing until his mom got home from her new job cleaning houses. They didn’t always talk—sometimes they’d listened to music, sometimes they’d just sat in silence—but she’d been there, through it all.
When he’d decided that he wanted to become an ER doctor so he could keep what had happened to his dad from happening to someone else, Jane had helped him research what he needed to do to get into medical school. And she’d been the one to grab the flyer about the EMT training from the police station bulletin board and encourage him to sign up .
She knew better than anyone how much this meant to him.
“You really did it.” Her blue eyes shone with happiness. “Nik, that’s amazing.”
“Thanks,” Nik said, with a sudden urge to tell her more. “This past year, I started a community outreach program that goes out to local schools and offices to teach them CPR.” He felt his lips curve upward. “I just found out this week that I landed a grant to provide free AEDs—defibrillators—for groups that agree to do the training.”
“You’re going to save so many lives.”
“I hope so.”
Jane’s smile slowly faded, overtaken by an emotion he couldn’t quite read. “I’m so glad it all worked out exactly the way it was supposed to,” she said, breathlessly. “The scholarship to Cornell. And now this.”
Nik hesitated before answering. It was true that his volunteer work as an EMT back in high school had landed him a college scholarship from the Linden Falls town council. A full ride to Cornell. But it hadn’t exactly worked out the way it was supposed to.
In fact, it spectacularly fell apart.
But if Jane wanted to keep secrets, then he could keep them, too. “Yep. It all worked out exactly the way it was supposed to,” he repeated.
“Nik, I’m so proud of you.” She bit her lip. “Maybe I have no right to say that, but…” She took a shaky breath. “I really am.”
And damn it, here she was, stirring up all these emotions again. “I really love it,” he confided in a low voice. “It feels like I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to, you know?” Maybe his life hadn’t followed the flight path he’d mapped out a decade ago, but at least this part had landed in the right place.
To his surprise, Jane’s eyes filled.
Nik cocked his head. “Hey,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Jane swiped at the moisture in her eyes. “I’m not crying.”
“You definitely are. What’s going on?”
She shook her head. “I’m just… I’m so relieved you’re happy.”
Nik blinked. Relieved? Had she worried that he wouldn’t be happy? He hated not knowing what she was thinking—that, somehow, he’d lost the right and had no idea why. He hated this distance between them.
A tear trickled from her eye and, before he could stop himself, Nik reached out to gently wipe it from Jane’s cheek. He half expected her to pull away, but instead, she leaned into him, turning her face into his palm.
And that’s when he knew. Just a few minutes ago, when she’d implied that maybe he’d gotten their relationship wrong all those years ago… that he’d gotten that night at the overlook wrong…
She was lying.
The connection between them had always been as natural as pulling air into their lungs. That hadn’t changed, and it wasn’t in the past. Since she’d taken off without a word, it was like they’d been holding their breath. And he realized, as their eyes connected, that for the first time in a decade, they could finally exhale.