Chapter 13
Thirteen
RHEA
The afternoon lull at Mountain Mornings is my favorite time of day.
The rush has died down, and the lunch crowd has left.
I have a peaceful hour or two to restock, clean the espresso machine, or stand by the window watching this sleepy mountain town.
The faint hiss of steam escapes the milk steamer, mingling with the scent of coffee that lingers in the air.
Outside, the crisp air carries a whisper of pine, blending with the scent of coffee to create an ambiance that soothes me down to my bones.
I'm bent over the pastry case, rearranging muffins and scones into a more appealing display, when I hear the familiar door chime. Without looking up, I call out my standard greeting.
“Welcome to Mountain Mornings! I'll be right with you.”
“Take your time.”
The voice stops me. It's deep, warm, and so familiar that for a moment I wonder if I'm hallucinating.
My first thought is that I don't want the life I've begun here to slip away if this is real.
I straighten, heart hammering, bracing myself to face the door, and hoping the world I've made for myself won't vanish.
Gray stands just inside, hands in dark jeans pockets, looking uncertain, hopeful, and so beautiful it hurts to look at him. His light brown hair is in a low ponytail, with a few loose strands. Those clear silvery-blue eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes me forget to breathe.
I blink, making sure he's real and not just a product of longing or daydreams. But he's here, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“Gray?” His name comes out as barely a whisper.
A smile breaks across his face, tentative at first but growing brighter when he sees my reaction. The nervous tension in his shoulders seems to melt away, replaced by what looks like relief.
“You're here,” I say, and before I can stop myself, I leave the safety of the counter to walk toward him. My intention is clear. I need to close the distance and see if this is really happening, even if I risk exposing how much I still care.
Of all days for him to show up, it had to be today.
I woke up late. My alarm didn't go off, so I threw on the first clean clothes I found and raced across the street to open the shop. When I adjusted the espresso machine earlier, my hand jerked, scattering coffee grounds across the counter. My hair is one step away from a disaster, every strand sticking out in a different direction. I managed one swipe of mascara this morning before giving up on looking put-together. I’m disheveled and unprepared for this meeting.
But Gray doesn't seem to notice my lack of preparation. He's looking at me like I'm exactly what he hoped to find, messy hair and all.
“I'm here,” he confirms, taking another step closer until we're standing arm's length apart. “Surprised?”
“What are you doing here? I thought you weren't getting out until this afternoon, and even then...” I trail off, trying to process his presence in my space and in the life I've begun living without him.
“Andrew and the guys had other plans. They've rented a cabin about ten minutes from here. They think being near you might help my recovery.” His eyes never leave my face, drinking me in like he's been wandering a desert and I'm the first water he's seen.
“Are they right?” The question slips out before I can stop it, vulnerable, hopeful, and terrified all at once.
Instead of answering immediately, Gray reaches up and gently tucks a runaway strand of hair that's escaped my messy bun, pushing it behind my ear. His fingers are warm against my skin, and the touch is so careful and tender that my eyes flutter closed for a moment.
“You look at home here,” he says softly, and when I open my eyes, his expression is full of wonder. “Happy. Peaceful. Like you've found where you belong.”
The simple observation hits me hard. He's right. I do feel at home here, in this small town where I know everyone’s coffee order by heart.
Mrs. Chen saves the good romance novels for me, and Emma is the sister I never had.
I've created something here, something that's mine, and Gray sees it just by looking at me.
“I am happy. Happier than I've been in years.” I admit it tentatively, not knowing if my happiness will bother him since it doesn’t include him.
“Good. God, Rhea, that's all I wanted. That's all I've ever wanted for you.” The words are fierce with emotion.
We stand together, close enough for me to smell his soap and see the silver in his blue eyes. The space between us is charged with anticipation. The air is thick. Then a mug drops behind the counter, breaking the spell. I glance over, pulled back to the present.
But I don’t reach for him. Neither does he. We're both silently choosing not to fall back on old habits. We each intend to honor our new boundaries. My goal is to protect this life I've created, and I sense he wants to show he's capable of respecting what matters to me.
“So,” I say, stepping back slightly to give myself room to think clearly. “You're living ten minutes away now?”
“Temporarily. The band wants to work on some new material, and they thought the mountain air might be good for creativity. But honestly? I think they just wanted to keep an eye on me for a while. Make sure I don't immediately self-destruct the moment I'm out of rehab.”
“And will you? Self-destruct, I mean?”
He considers the question seriously, which I appreciate. The old Gray would have immediately reassured me with promises he couldn't keep. This Gray thinks before he speaks.
“I don't think so. I feel different this time. Stronger. Like I understand what I'm fighting for instead of just fighting against the entire world because I’m angry.”
“What are you fighting for?”
His eyes meet mine, steady and clear. “I’m fighting for the chance to be the man you saw in me when we first met, not necessarily for you. Though I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of it. But I’m doing it for me. Because I finally believe that man is worth fighting for.”
The honesty in his voice makes my chest tight with emotion. This is what recovery looks like, I realize. Not grand gestures or dramatic promises, but quiet certainty and hard-won self-knowledge.
“The guys are waiting outside.” He gestures toward the window where I can now see a large SUV parked across the street. “They're hoping to talk to you about something. About maybe coming back to work for the band.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Coming back?”
“Part-time, maybe. We're not touring for a while, just writing and recording. Local stuff. They miss having you organize their chaos.” He pauses, studying my face. “But only if you want to. Only if it wouldn't mess up what you've got here.”
The offer jolts me. I thought that part of my life was over, because surely leaving Gray meant leaving Case in Point.
The idea of working with the guys again excites me, but I can’t ignore my fear.
My intention is to protect the stability I’ve found, and I'm anxious that returning might undo what grounds me now.
Taking on this role could also affect my relationship with Emma, who trusts me with her coffee shop.
The stakes are high and the uncertainty daunting.
“I'd have to think about it. Talk to Emma about coverage here, figure out logistics and such,” I say carefully.
“Of course. No pressure. We're not going anywhere for a while. We really do want to live quietly before chaos ensues again. Take your time. There’s nothing pressing.”
The door chimes again, and Emma walks in carrying a bag from the bakery down the street. She stops short when she sees Gray, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene.
“Um,” she says, looking between us. “Should I come back later?”
“Emma, this is Gray.” I’m grateful for the interruption, which gives me a moment to process what's happening and decide how much I'm willing to divulge about the past. “Gray, this is Emma. She owns Mountain Mornings and has put a lot of faith in me, trusting me with her baby.”
Gray steps forward with his hand extended, and I watch Emma's expression change from confusion to recognition to protective concern.
“Gray Garrison.” He extends his hand to Emma. “It's nice to meet you. Rhea talks about you all the time.”
“I know who you are.” Emma accepts his handshake but keeps her voice carefully neutral.
I suppress a smile at Emma's response. She's been listening to me talk about Gray for months, and she's clearly appointed herself as my unofficial bodyguard.
“The band rented a cabin nearby. Gray just got out of rehab today,” I explain.
Emma's expression softens slightly. “How's that going for you?”
“Ninety days clean and sober. One day at a time. I've already scoped out the Wednesday night meeting in town, and I'm planning to keep up with the morning meditation routine I’ve learned.” He’s not defensive with her, which makes me proud.
She nods approvingly. “Good for you. Recovery's hard work.”
“The hardest thing I've ever done. But it's worth it.” He nods with a small smile, tugging at his lips.
His tone must convince her of his sincerity, because Emma's protective stance relaxes slightly. “Well, congratulations then and welcome to Dogwood Hollow.”
“Thank you. It's beautiful here. I can see why Rhea loves it.” Gray shoves his hands back in his pants pockets and waits for Emma to respond.
“She fits here. We're lucky to have her,” Emma replies.
Her kindness makes me feel seen by a woman who I think should’ve been my sister. She’s my family now in a lot of ways.
Gray's smile is soft and genuine. “Yes, you are.”
The moment lingers as two people I care about learn to navigate new territory. Outside, the rest of Case in Point waits in Andrew’s SUV, giving Gray space to test the waters before complicating things.
“I should let you get back to work. But maybe I could come by tomorrow? When you're not busy? We could talk more about everything,” he offers.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m nervous to be with him alone again, but not because I’m afraid of him. I’m simply fearful that I’ll fall into old habits and not give this friendship the space, time, and boundaries it deserves.
“I'd like that,” I hear myself say. “I get off at four.”
“Four it is.” He takes a step toward the door, then turns back. “Rhea? Thank you. For answering my calls, for visiting me, and for agreeing to be part of my support system. It means more than you know.”
“Thank you for doing the work, and for becoming this version of yourself again.” I smile at him, letting him know how happy I am that he’s done so much work over the past three months. Because it brought him here today, healthy and looking every bit the sexy, tortured musician.
After he returns to his bandmates, Emma joins me at the window. We watch the SUV disappear, taking Gray into the mountains just ten minutes from my new life without him.
“So… that's him. The famous ex-boyfriend who broke your heart,” Emma says casually, like she didn’t just meet a Grammy-winning artist and songwriter.
“Yeah, that’s him.” I don’t want her to think I hid it from her to hurt her feelings, but I was beginning a new chapter in my life that didn’t include Gray.
“He seems different from what I expected,” she muses.
“Different how?” I’m curious how other people see Gray, especially outside of the music world.
“I expected an asshole, but the sober version of him seems very kind.You going to be okay with him living so close?” Her concern hits my fears right on the head.
I search for fear and old wounds, expecting panic to surface. But instead, hope nudges its way into the space where anxiety once lived. It’s a cautious, unfamiliar hope that things might be different now.
“Yeah. I think I am,” I say carefully, not sure if I can trust my own feelings where Gray is concerned.
The man who just walked into her coffee shop isn't the broken person I left three months ago. He's the Gray I fell in love with. He’s the same man beneath the addiction and pain. Maybe we can finally be in each other's lives without destroying the other.