Chapter 13 Jason
JASON
The Lighthouse Diner had always made sense to me.
Order tickets. Pour coffee. Flip burgers. Solve problems you can touch. Simple math. Predictable flow. You serve people. You feed them. They leave full and a little happier. That’s how it worked.
But today, nothing clicked.
The griddle hissed too loud. The bell over the door shrieked like a fire alarm. Even the coffee smelled wrong, bitter and burned, clinging to my shirt like regret. I moved through the motions, but my hands felt borrowed. My skin felt too tight.
I dropped a plate of pancakes at table five.
“We ordered omelets,” the woman said.
I stared at her like she’d spoken another language. “Right. Sorry.”
At the counter, I poured decaf into a chipped mug and handed it to Jim Mather.
“Jason,” he said, blinking at the steam. “This better be caffeinated. I’ve got crab pots and a tide window.”
I nodded. “It is.”
It wasn’t.
Across the aisle, Mrs. Esposito raised an eyebrow behind her glasses. “If you’re trying to kill me with full-caf, at least throw in a cruller for the trouble.”
The diner felt foreign. Wrong angles. Wrong air. I tried to anchor myself at the counter, cloth in hand, wiping down the laminate. The motion had always steadied me. Today it slid right off.
Outside, rain traced lines down the window like something giving up. The light looked gray and tired. My wolf shifted inside me, pacing just under the surface. Not angry. Not hungry. Just uneasy. Like it knew we were losing something.
Levi cornered me after the rush. His arms crossed. His jaw set.
“Okay,” he said. “What’s going on? You’ve been a disaster since morning.”
I stared at the prep table. The stainless steel gleamed like it had something to say. “I have?”
“You gave soup to the milkshake guy. Fries to the toast table. You tried to hand me a receipt. And you just poured ketchup into a mug.”
I looked down. Red filled the coffee mug.
Levi sighed. “Talk to me.”
The weight cracked. The words came out. “Emily’s leaving.”
He stilled. “Leaving leaving?”
I nodded. “New York job. Big brand.”
His brow furrowed. “And you’re okay with that?”
“No.” I laughed. It sounded wrong. “But I can’t be the reason she gives up her dreams.”
Levi stared. “That’s not what this looks like.”
I finally looked him in the eye. “Then what does it look like?”
“It looks like you two are in love,” he said. “The real kind. The stupid kind. The kind people write songs about.”
“That doesn’t mean I can ask her to stay.”
“You’re not asking her to give something up,” Levi said. “You’re asking her to choose.”
I started to answer. Nothing came out. My throat locked.
Levi stepped closer. “What do you actually want, Jason?”
Her face rose up in my head. Her smile. The way her eyes changed when she focused. The small habit of touching her necklace when she thought. The look she gave me like maybe I still mattered.
“I don’t want to lose her,” I said. The words scraped. “Not again.”
Levi held my gaze. “Then stop acting like your feelings don’t count.”
I frowned. “I can’t force her to stay.”
“No one is asking you to,” he said. “She’s a grown woman. She can do whatever she wants. New York, here, Mars. That’s her call.”
He jabbed a finger toward my chest. “But if you don’t tell her what you want, if you don’t make it clear that she matters to you, you’re going to regret it.”
I swallowed.
“Worst case,” he went on, “she says no. She leaves anyway. And that will hurt. But at least you won’t spend the rest of your life wondering what would’ve happened if you’d opened your mouth.”
I bolted for the hook by the door, snatched my jacket. A mug fell and cracked against the floor. I didn’t stop.
“Where are you going?” Levi said.
I reached the door. The rain hit the windows like a warning.
“To do what I should’ve done years ago,” I said.
Then I stepped into the rain and didn’t look back.