Chapter 4 #2
Vega steps forward to sniff her pant leg, his ears alert. The moment he recognizes her scent, his tail gives a few slow, familiar wags before he returns to his post.
Jenny straightens, her cheeks flushing. “I remember you, too. You were always in the corner with your dog. I didn’t realize you and Sage were… friends.”
His mouth lifts slightly. “You helped keep the place running when Sage needed it. I appreciated that more than you probably knew.”
Jenny lets out a shy laugh. “I just tried not to burn the pastries. Sage handled everything else.”
“Even so,” he replies, stepping aside and motioning toward the living area, “you made the drive up the mountain. Thank you for that. Please, come in.”
Jenny steps inside, clutching the package. She glances around with obvious curiosity, taking in the expensive furniture and the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the mountain view. “I brought the package.”
She extends it toward me, and I take it carefully. The paper is rough under my fingertips, the twine tied in a simple knot. Nothing about it screams danger or threat. It looks exactly like what Jenny thinks it is, a package from a well-meaning customer.
“Thank you for bringing it all the way up here,” I tell her, setting it on the coffee table.
“Are you kidding? I was worried sick about you.” She glances between Luka and me, her smile turning slightly teasing. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone. He’s gorgeous by the way,” she whispers.
Jenny winks at me, and heat climbs up my cheeks as I notice Luka’s amused expression from the corner of my eye. “We’ve been keeping things quiet. With everything that happened...”
“No, I totally understand.” Jenny waves a hand. “Privacy is important. I just wish you had called sooner so I wouldn’t have been imagining the worst.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The guilt is genuine, even if the circumstances are fabricated. “I should have reached out.”
A maid steps into the foyer carrying a tray with a ceramic teapot and two small cups. She gives Luka a polite nod before turning to me. “Would you like this in the living room?”
“Yes, thank you,” I answer, grateful for the interruption.
Jenny’s eyebrows lift. “You have staff now?”
I shake my head quickly. “No. They’re Luka’s staff. I’m just a guest here.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Luka glance over at me, brief but pointed. Not a correction or a disagreement, just a look that hints he doesn’t see me as a guest at all.
Jenny doesn’t notice any of it and just grins. “Well… that’s still pretty fancy for being a guest.”
The maid heads toward the living room, and I follow with Jenny beside me.
The couch is soft enough to swallow me whole, and the fire crackling in the hearth takes some of the edge off my nerves.
Jenny settles in and crosses her legs, her eyes darting around with interest she doesn’t even try to hide.
Luka enters the room a moment later, slipping on his coat. He steps closer, brushing a kiss against my cheek.
“I have a meeting I need to get to,” he murmurs. “Enjoy your time together.”
“We will,” I reply quietly.
He turns to Jenny. “It was good to see you again.”
“You too,” she answers, still a little starstruck.
He gives Vega a small gesture, and the dog relaxes by the fireplace before Luka heads out. The front door closes behind him, and the room feels instantly different, lighter in some ways, heavier in others.
Jenny leans closer the second he’s gone. “Okay. Spill.”
I blink in surprise. “Spill what?”
“All of it,” she insists, lowering her voice dramatically. “You and Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Intense. How did things go from him sitting in the corner of the café to…” She gestures vaguely around the luxury cabin. “This?”
I breathe out a laugh and pour tea to buy myself a second. The steam curls up between us, softening the moment. “It wasn’t planned.”
“Isn’t that how all good things start?” She lifts her cup. “One day you’re steaming milk, the next you’re being kissed in a mountain lodge.”
My cheeks redden again. “It’s… complicated.”
“It always is with men who look like that,” she replies, taking a sip. “But you seem happy. It’s good to see.”
Happy is a word I no longer know how to define, but I nod anyway.
Her expression softens. “I’ve been thinking about the café a lot. You know… the rebuilding.”
The breath I didn’t realize I was holding releases slowly. “You want to help with that?”
“Help? Sage, I already made a list.” She pulls out her phone and taps the screen. “Floor layout, suppliers, local contractors, even a couple of funding ideas. I’m not letting Bean & Bloom go down without a fight.”
Emotion rises suddenly and unexpectedly. “Jenny…”
She reaches across the couch and squeezes my hand. “You taught me everything I know about running a business. And Bean & Bloom is a family. I owe you more than a paycheck.”
A tight ache forms behind my ribs. “Thank you. Truly.”
She smiles brightly. “We’ll get it back and make it even better.”
I want to believe her. I want to hold on to this small piece of my old life like it’s a lifeline.
Jenny keeps talking about remodeling ideas and new menu items, but my mind starts drifting toward the box wrapped in brown paper, sitting quietly, as if it has all the time in the world.
“I should probably get going,” Jenny finally says. “I have some errands to run before my evening shift at the diner.” She gives me another quick hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Everyone is going to be so relieved when I tell them you’re recovering.”
“Please don’t tell them where I am,” I request quickly. “I just need some quiet time to heal before I start dealing with insurance, repairs, and town gossip.”
“Of course. Your secret is safe with me.” She pulls me into a hug. “Text me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.”
“I will. Thank you for everything.”
I watch from the doorway as Jenny climbs into her car and pulls away, gravel crunching under her tires until the sound fades down the mountain road. The cabin settles into quiet again, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and Vega’s steady breathing near the hearth.
I look back at the package on the table.
For a moment, curiosity nudges me forward.
It could be from one of the regulars. Someone who heard about the café and wanted to drop off a card or a small gift.
People can be thoughtful like that. Aspen Ridge is full of customers who bring homemade jam or knitted potholders when life falls apart.
I slide the package into my hands, surprised by how light it is, and carry it up the stairs toward the bedroom. Vega trails close behind, then lowers himself at my feet the moment I sit. I set the package on the bed and sit beside it, smoothing my hands over my thighs as I study it more closely.
At first, nothing seems strange. Brown paper, twine, and my name written across the top.
But as I lean in, the small details begin to shape my thoughts.
The paper isn’t the kind you buy in town.
It’s rougher, almost brittle at the edges.
The handwriting is sharp, not rounded or friendly like the notes customers usually leave.
I run my thumb across the slanted letters.
The strokes feel too practiced and intentional.
My smile fades quickly. Maybe this isn’t from a customer after all.
The longer I study the package, the heavier the air feels around me, tightening at the back of my neck, making it harder to breathe.
The curiosity twists into a tighter, darker feeling, edging toward fear.
I stare at the handwriting again, and a cold ripple moves through my chest.
This isn’t a gift, and it isn’t thoughtful. Something about it feels completely wrong. But there is only one way to know for sure. I pull the box toward me, my hands trembling. A faint metallic scent lingers beneath the musty paper.
I untie the knot, my nails snagging on the rough fibers. The paper falls away in pieces, revealing a small white box underneath. My stomach knots as I lift the lid. A lock of blonde hair rests on a square of linen, tied with a thin ribbon stained dark red.
The world tilts, and I grip the edge of the table to stay upright. I reach out with trembling fingers and touch the hair, soft, fine, and heartbreakingly familiar.
“Hope,” I whisper. Her name breaks against my throat.
Vega whines low beside me, reading the fear I can’t hide.
A folded piece of paper sits beneath the hair. I open it with shaking hands.
Time is running out, malen'kaya ptichka.
A wave of nausea climbs my throat as I stare at the note. My mother's voice echoes from years ago, the same nickname she used when she tucked me in at night. Little bird.
My body gives out, and I sink to the floor.
The note trembles in my grip, the letters blurring as tears spill down my cheeks.
Beneath it, two small objects wait in the bottom of the box: a USB drive and a slip of paper with Luka’s laptop password written neatly across it.
A second line indicates the type of files Ray wants.
I stare until the letters swim and every muscle in my body locks. Vega nudges closer, pressing his body against me. A sob claws at my throat. I press my hand against my mouth until the sound dies there.
My fingers curl around the USB, the metal digging hard into my palm. I could destroy it. I could throw it into the fire. But the hair, the ribbon, and the blood are all proof that Hope is still alive, and if I don’t move fast enough, she won’t be for much longer.
I press the drive to my chest, hot tears blurring the room. Vega rests his head on my knee, silent and watchful.
“I’ll do it,” I whisper. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
The note lies open beside me, the words sinking deeper with every heartbeat. Time is running out. I close my eyes and draw in a shaky breath. All that’s left now is taking the step I can never undo.