Chapter 1 #2
Once the last customer waved goodbye, the doorbell chimed softly as the glass door swung shut.
The café grew still in a way that always felt like a sigh at the end of the day.
Chairs scraped lightly against tile as Taylor nudged them back into place.
She hummed under her breath, wiping down the counter, her mind already shifting to the closing checklist she could probably do in her sleep.
Cash drawer. Lights. Floors. Lock the front door.
She turned, rag in hand, expecting the corner booth to be empty.
It wasn’t.
Ryan Carter was still there.
Taylor froze, caught off guard. For hours he had sat quietly, blending into the background while she worked, and she had half convinced herself he was gone.
Yet there he was, one arm stretched along the back of the booth, his long legs stretched out comfortably beneath the table, a nearly empty coffee cup sitting in front of him like it had been forgotten.
Her throat tightened. She adjusted her grip on the rag, clutching it a little too hard.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice breaking the silence. “You’ve been sitting there all day. Most people drink their coffee and leave before I close up.”
He looked at her with a slow smile that made something in her chest twist. “Maybe I just like the atmosphere.”
She arched a brow. “Or maybe you are a terrible liar.”
His grin deepened. “You caught me.”
Taylor took a few careful steps toward him, her heart drumming a little harder with each one. She dropped into the seat across from him before she could second guess herself.
“Seriously, Ryan. You do not spend six hours in a café unless you’re hiding from someone or writing a novel. And unless you’ve been keeping secrets from your sister, you’re not a novelist.”
“Harsh,” he said, feigning a wince, though his eyes glinted with amusement.
“Factual.”
That earned her a laugh, a real one, and the sound did something strange to her chest. It had been years since she had seen him like this, relaxed, teasing, the same boy who used to torment her and protect her in equal measure.
Her guard slipped for just a moment. She leaned in. “Emma said you needed a change of pace. That’s not like you. What happened?”
The laughter faded from his face, replaced by something heavier. He shrugged, but it looked forced, like his shoulders were carrying a weight too big for one person.
“Work got…complicated.”
“Marines classified complicated?” she asked, lowering her voice.
His brows lifted. “Emma talks too much.”
“She is my best friend,” Taylor said, tilting her head. “It is in her job description.”
He huffed out a breath, but the edge of a smile pulled at his mouth.
Taylor pressed her advantage. “Come on, give me something. I remember you as the guy who never shut up about baseball stats. Sitting here like a broody statue does not suit you. What’s next? A black turtleneck and poetry about despair?”
Ryan stared at her for a beat before the corner of his mouth twitched. Then he laughed again, shaking his head. “A broody statue? That’s how you see me?”
She shrugged. “I call it like I see it.”
He leaned back in the booth, watching her with an expression that made her feel like he was seeing far more than she wanted him to. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Her smile wobbled. She had changed, though. More than he could ever know. But it was easier to play along. “Neither have you. Still smug. Still bossy.”
“Still devastatingly handsome?” he asked, mock-serious.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Do not push your luck.”
For a brief moment, it was almost easy. Comfortable. Like they hadn’t spent years avoiding each other, like there had never been a humiliating kiss when she was seventeen that she swore to forget.
But she couldn’t let herself sink into that comfort. Not with him.
She pushed up from her chair, rag dangling in her hand. “Well, statue or not, café is closed. Go home, Carter.”
Ryan stood too, unfolding his long frame from the booth. He towered over her now, broader than he had been the last time she saw him, and that quiet weight settled back into his features. “I’ll walk you home.”
Taylor blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It’s late. Not safe for you to be walking by yourself.”
She barked a laugh, genuinely amused at the idea of anyone worrying about her safety. “Ryan, I’ve been walking home alone for years. It’s two blocks. I think I can manage.”
His frown deepened. “Still. I would feel better if I walked with you.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“You might not think so—”
“Ryan.” Her voice cut him off, firmer than she expected. She set her rag on the table and crossed her arms. “My mom has been gone a long time. I’ve been on my own since I was nineteen. Believe me, if there was a problem, I would know how to handle it.”
That stopped him cold. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching hers with something raw that made her stomach twist. “You shouldn’t have to handle it alone.”
The words landed harder than she wanted them to. Taylor looked away, focusing on the counter, the chairs, anything but him. “I’m fine. Really. You can go.”
For a long moment, he didn’t move. The silence stretched, heavy and unspoken. Finally, with a reluctant nod, he stepped back.
“Fine. But at least promise you’ll lock the doors behind me.”
She forced a grin. “I manage a café. Locking doors is literally part of my job description.”
His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned toward the door. “Goodnight, Taylor.”
“Goodnight, Ryan.”
He pushed out into the night, the doorbell chiming softly as it closed behind him. Taylor stood there for a beat, breathing in the quiet that followed, her chest tight in a way she couldn’t explain.
She shook it off.
Closing up took another twenty minutes. She counted the cash drawer, stacked chairs, wiped the counters again even though they were already spotless. Anything to keep her hands busy, to keep her thoughts from circling around the fact that Ryan Carter had been sitting in her café all day.
Watching her. Teasing her.
Laughing with her like nothing had ever happened between them.
When everything was finally in order, she slung her bag over her shoulder and flipped off the lights. The café plunged into darkness, only the soft glow of the streetlamps filtering in through the glass. She locked the front door, double-checking it out of habit, then stepped out into the night.
The air was cool against her cheeks, carrying the faint scent of pine and the distant hum of traffic from the highway. The small town had already tucked itself in for the night. Windows were dark, streets quiet, only a stray cat darting across the road to break the stillness.
Taylor pulled her jacket tighter and started down the familiar two-block stretch toward her apartment. Her footsteps echoed softly on the sidewalk, a rhythm she knew by heart.
Halfway down the block, a chill rippled across her skin.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. The street was empty. Nothing but shadows stretching long beneath the streetlamps.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling. Like eyes on the back of her neck. Like someone was there, just out of sight.
Taylor forced a laugh under her breath. “You are imagining things.”
She adjusted her bag, quickened her pace.
But the unease lingered, curling low in her stomach, following her all the way home.