9. Kaia
Chapter Nine
Kaia
The milkshake might have been a mistake.
Not because it wasn't delicious, but because it was too good.
Cold and sweet and thick in a way that was almost overwhelming after days of careful bites and measured portions.
It sat heavy in my stomach alongside the burger and fries, a fullness I wasn't used to anymore.
Behind the counter, I curled my fingers tight around the edge to focus on the next order.
"Two iced lattes," someone said.
"Coming right up," I replied automatically.
My hands moved on their own. Cup. Ice. Espresso.
Normal—everything was normal. Except it wasn’t.
My awareness kept drifting, pulling, like an unwavering tide.
Toward him. Lachlan. My chest tightened.
Even thinking his name felt like something I shouldn't be doing.
It was too close, too familiar. I forced my attention back to finishing up the drinks.
I slid them across the counter with a polite smile.
"There you go."
"Thanks!"
The bell chimed, and my attention snapped to the table where Lachlan had been sitting.
He was now standing, hovering next to the table he’d been sitting at for however long.
My breath caught, and something tight in my chest loosened just slightly at the sight of him still in the shop.
He wasn't looking at me; his focus was on his phone. He was typing, waiting.
Then he looked up and found me instantly.
My pulse jumped as he crossed the space between us. He moved slower than before, more deliberate, like he was aware of every step and what each of those steps meant. I froze behind the counter but didn't move or retreat. Just waited.
He stopped on the other side of the counter, the same distance as before. The same safe distance. "I have to get to work," he said. Simple. Not an apology, no explanation. Just the truth. Something twisted in my gut, but it wasn't panic. It was…Nope, don't finish that thought.
His hand moved, and he slid a small slip of paper across the counter toward me. "My number, if you want it."
I blinked and looked down at the scrap of notebook paper, then back at him. I didn't reach for it right away. If I touched it, this might turn more real than I was ready for. "I…" I began, then stopped. What was I supposed to say to that? Yes? No? Why?
He didn't push. Didn't fill the silence.
Didn't try to convince me. He just left it there, an option.
"You don't have to use it." His voice was much steadier than mine.
"Just…if you want to." My throat tightened at the genuineness in his voice.
No expectation, no pressure. Somehow, that made it harder to breathe than if he'd demanded I take it.
I swallowed, then slowly reached forward to pick up the paper. "Okay," I said quietly. The word felt too inadequate for whatever this was, but it was all I could manage.
Lachlan nodded once, like that was enough—like I was enough. He stepped back, not abruptly, not like he was pulling away, just…giving me space again. "Bye, Kaia. It was nice meeting you."
I put my hand up and waved. "Bye, Lachlan. Nice to meet you." My eyes followed him as he walked toward the door. The door’s bell chime brought me back to Earth. He paused, just for a second, to glance back. He smiled and waved, and my breath caught.
Then he was gone. The door shut, and this time, the emptiness hit harder. I stared at the door for a long second, then another. My fingers tightened around the small piece of paper in my hand. My chest felt too full, too tight, too…
"Are you going to work or just stand there all day?"
I would have thought she hated me if she'd said that on my first shift. But after knowing Maria for a few days, I knew she was just grounding me. I was so thankful for her. I blinked, and my focus snapped back. "Sorry." I turned back to the counter.
But it wasn't working. The paper was still in my hand and his scent was still in my lungs.
"Hey," Maria said.
I froze and slowly turned toward her. Maria was watching me, not casually or distantly, but directly.
She knew. Maria's gaze flicked down to my hand, to the paper, then back up.
For a moment, I just stood there and clenched the phone number like I didn't know what to do with it.
Maria leaned back against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "Breathe," she said.
"I am breathing."
Maria raised an eyebrow. "Not well." That…that almost made me laugh. Almost. Instead, my breath hitched again, and everything came back at once. The scent. The pull. The lack of fear. The way my body ached when he walked out.
My hand flew up to my chest and my fingers pressed against my skin, like I could force everything back into place. "I don't…" I started, but stopped. I tried again. "I don't know what just happened."
Maria studied me for a long second, then nodded. "Yeah, you do, honey."
I shook my head. "No. I…This doesn't…" My voice broke with frustration and fear. "He's an Alpha," I said, like that would explain why I was having a panic attack.
Maria's expression didn't change. "And?"
I stared at her. "And I'm not scared," I snapped. The words came out sharper than I meant. "That's not how this works."
Maria didn't react to the edge in my tone. Didn't push back, but didn't soften up either. She just watched me. "That's how it works around here," she said. My stomach dropped. That hit too close, too fast. Maria tilted her head an inch. "But you're not from around here, are you?”
My grip tightened around the paper. I didn't answer, because I didn't need to. Maria pushed off the wall and stepped closer, but not too close. "You're okay," she said, her voice quieter now. "Nothing happened to you that you didn't walk into on your own two feet."
I swallowed hard. "That didn't feel like a choice."
Maria's gaze softened. "Maybe not at first. But what you do with it is.
" Her eyes flicked down to the paper in my hand.
"Are you going to call him?" The question was simple enough.
I almost laughed—not because it was funny, but because this was somehow the most personal thing Maria had asked me since I'd walked into her café—which said something about both of us.
I looked down at the number—at the neat, clean handwriting. Something twisted in my chest again.
"I don't even…"
Maria's brow lifted. "What?"
I hesitated, then huffed out, "I threw my phone off a cliff." The words felt ridiculous when I said them out loud.
Maria blinked once. Then she laughed—a real laugh, genuine and surprised, like she hadn't expected to do it. It scrunched her nose and made her eyes crinkle at the corners.
The tension in my shoulders eased, just slightly. Not solved, not by a long shot, but manageable, like I could breathe a little easier.
"Well," she said, composing herself, "guess we'll fix that later."
I nodded and slipped the paper carefully into my pocket. When I stepped behind the counter, everything felt different. Because it wasn't just about survival anymore. Now there was something pulling me forward.