Chapter 11
Maya
I'm staring at my laptop screen, pretending to work on the festival website while actually replaying every second of last night's kiss for the hundredth time. The way Lucas's hands felt in my hair. The sound he made when I pressed closer. The taste of him that I can't get out of my head.
And then the way he stopped.
Just when things were getting good… really good. He pulled back with that tortured expression and started talking about being "all in" and wanting me to be sure. Like I hadn't just thrown myself at him with the subtlety of a freight train.
The worst part? I think I understand why he did it. Which makes me want to both kiss him again and throw something at his stupidly noble head.
"Okay, spill." Harper appears in the guest room doorway carrying two steaming mugs and wearing the kind of knowing expression that suggests she heard more than I'm comfortable with.
"And don't even think about pretending nothing happened.
These walls are thin, and let's just say you weren't exactly whispering about your feelings. "
Heat floods my cheeks as I accept the coffee. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough to know that Lucas Mason is either the most respectful man alive or a complete idiot." Harper settles cross-legged on the bed, studying my face with interrogational intensity. "I'm leaning toward respectful, but I need more data."
"He stopped." The words come out flat, matter-of-fact, but I can hear the confusion underneath. "We were kissing, and it was perfect, and then he just... stopped."
"And?"
"And what? That's it. He gave me this whole speech about being all in and wanting me to be sure, and then he left." I take a sip of coffee, hoping caffeine will somehow make last night make sense. "I mean, I literally told him I wanted him. How much more sure can I be?"
Harper is quiet for a moment, that thoughtful silence that usually means she's about to say something I don't want to hear but probably need to.
"Maya," she says finally, "when's the last time a man put your emotional wellbeing ahead of getting laid?"
"That's not... it wasn't about getting laid."
"Wasn't it?" Harper tilts her head. "From your perspective, I mean. You were scared, overwhelmed, seeking comfort and connection after a traumatic day. And Lucas knew that."
"So you're saying he rejected me because he thought I was emotionally compromised?"
"I'm saying he loves you enough to want your first time together to be about choosing him, not running from something else.
" Harper's voice goes gentle. "Maya, this is Lucas we're talking about.
The same guy who's been carrying a torch for you since high school.
Do you really think he stopped because he doesn't want you? "
I set down my mug and bury my face in my hands. "I don't know what I think anymore. This whole situation is so confusing."
"What's confusing about it?"
"Everything!" I throw my hands up in frustration.
"A few days ago, I thought Lucas was just my old friend who happened to own a bar.
Now he's telling me he loves me and I'm staying at my other friend's house because apparently I have feelings too.
Not to mention my psycho stalker circling like a shark, and I'm supposed to make rational decisions about my love life while my entire world is falling apart. "
"Ah." Harper nods sagely. "There's the real problem."
"What?"
"You're trying to make rational decisions about love." She reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Maya, honey, love isn't rational. It's not a coding problem you can debug or a system you can optimize. Sometimes you just have to trust that the other person knows what they're doing."
"And if they don't?"
"Then you figure it out together." Harper's smile is soft, understanding. "That's what love is. It's not having all the answers. It's finding someone you want to figure out the questions with."
I look at my friend—brilliant, cautious Harper who's spent years analyzing everyone else's relationships from the sidelines—and realize she might be onto something.
"So what do I do?"
"You go to the bar for lunch like you planned. You act normal. You let Lucas take the lead on the emotional stuff since he clearly has a better handle on it than you do right now." Harper grins. "And you trust that when he says 'when, not if,' he means it."
When, not if. The memory of his voice saying those words sends butterflies swooping through my stomach.
Maybe Harper's right. Maybe I need to stop overthinking this and trust that Lucas knows what he's doing.
Even if I have no idea what I'm doing.
A few hours later, I'm sitting at my usual table in The Willow Tap, I’m pretending to work on the festival website again, while actually watching Lucas move around behind the bar. He's serving the lunch crowd with his typical efficiency, but I catch him glancing my way more often than usual.
When our eyes meet, he smiles, soft and private. Like we're sharing a secret. My stomach does that fluttery thing I'm starting to associate with Lucas Mason.
"Maya, dear, how's the website coming along?" Mrs. Henderson settles at the table next to mine with her usual iced tea and grilled cheese. "Harold's been asking when he can see it."
"Almost ready for launch," I say, grateful for the distraction from Lucas-watching. "Just fine-tuning the vendor registration system."
"You're a godsend. We've been stuck in the dark ages for too long." She leans closer conspiratorially. "And it's nice to have someone young and tech-savvy sticking around. This town needs fresh blood."
Sticking around. The phrase hits differently now, after last night's conversation about choices and certainty. Because somewhere between debugging authentication systems and kissing Lucas Mason, I've started thinking of Willowbridge as home again.
"Maya." Lucas appears at my table with a plate I didn't order. "Thought you might be hungry."
It's the grilled chicken sandwich I mentioned liking yesterday, with extra pickles and sweet potato fries instead of regular ones. He's been paying attention to details I didn't even realize I'd shared.
"Thank you." I look up at him, trying to read his expression. "You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to." His hand brushes mine as he sets down the plate, and the contact sends awareness prickling up my arm. "Let me know if you need anything else."
The casual touch, the way he's taking care of me without making a big deal about it. It all feels different now. Charged with possibility and the memory of his hands in my hair.
"Everything okay over there?" Jake calls from behind the bar, grinning like he knows exactly what's happening. "You two look like you're having a moment."
"Mind your own business," Lucas replies, but there's no heat in it.
"In a town this size, your business is my business." Jake winks at me. "Just saying, you both look happy. It's nice to see."
Lucas shakes his head and heads back to work, but I catch the pleased expression on his face. Like Jake's observation is something he wants to be true.
I take a bite of the sandwich and realize it's perfect—exactly how I would have ordered it if I'd been thinking clearly enough to order anything. Lucas notices things. He pays attention. He takes care of the people he cares about.
And apparently, I'm one of those people.
The thought should probably freak me out. Instead, it makes me want to figure out how to take care of him too.
I'm halfway through my sandwich, actually relaxed for the first time in days, when the door chimes and my entire world tilts sideways.
Evan Pierce saunters into The Willow Tap.
He's dressed in his usual expensive casual wear—designer jeans, wool sweater, leather jacket that probably costs more than most people's rent.
He looks completely out of place among the working-class lunch crowd, but he moves with the kind of confidence that suggests he doesn't care about fitting in.
My hands start shaking so badly I have to set down my sandwich.
"Maya." His voice carries across the restaurant, warm and friendly like we're old colleagues running into each other by chance. "What a pleasant surprise."
Every eye in the place turns toward us, and I can feel the weight of their attention like a physical thing. Mrs. Henderson's expression shifts from curious to concerned. Jake pauses mid-pour behind the bar. Lucas goes very, very still.
"Evan." I force my voice to sound normal, professional. "What are you doing here?"
"Business in the area. Thought I'd check out this charming little town you've been hiding in." He approaches my table with that calculated smile I hate. "Mind if I sit? We have so much to catch up on."
"Actually, I do mind." I stand up, needing the psychological advantage of height even though he's still taller. "I thought I made it clear that our business relationship was over."
"Oh, Maya." He shakes his head like I'm a confused child. "You can't just walk away from a contract. There are legal obligations. Financial responsibilities."
"I fulfilled my contract. I delivered exactly what was specified."
"Did you, though?" Evan's smile turns sharp. "Because I seem to remember several meetings you canceled. Deadlines you missed. A very unprofessional abandonment of our project."
He's lying. Every word is a calculated fabrication designed to make me look incompetent in front of people whose opinions I've started to care about. But he's saying it with such conviction that I can see doubt creeping into the faces around us.
"That's not what happened," I say, but my voice sounds weak even to my own ears.
"Isn't it?" Evan pulls out his phone, scrolling through what looks like emails. "I have documentation, Maya. Records of your erratic behavior, your failure to meet professional standards. It's all very concerning for someone in your position."
"My position?"