Chapter 11
HI FRIEND
MADISON
The warm sweetness of baked goods hits my nose first, mixing with the rich, bitter aroma of fresh coffee, when I step through the door at Sunlit Espresso.
The soft yellow light filters through the hanging greenery and catches on the glass display case in front of me, making every sweet and savory pastry gleam.
My stomach growls, and I can’t help but lean in closer, my eyes going straight to the dusting of powdered sugar on the blueberry muffins that promise heaven in a bite.
The quiet chatter of the locals blends with the hiss of the espresso machine.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Tessa making her way over, tying her apron around her neck, her smile bright and welcoming.
“Hey, sweetcheeks. What are you doing here so early?” she calls out.
Her name badge catches the light—Honey. I snicker under my breath. I can’t believe she still wears that after all these years of running this place.
“I’m going to head over to the hospital and surprise the kids with a visit. Thought I’d stop in for a coffee first and grab some muffins for the nurses and Mom while I’m at it.”
Her brows lift a little, like she’s trying to work out if I’m being serious or not.
I don’t blame her. It’s been months since I’ve gone.
The girls know how much I love volunteering at the hospital, how those kids could brighten the darkest of days, but lately…
I’ve let the visits slip. Every time I thought about walking through those halls again, something in my chest tightened.
How could I show up with a smile when I could barely hold myself together?
Still, I miss their smiles, their tiny hands tugging at mine, their faces lighting up like I’m someone special.
I think, after everything, I need them as much as they need me.
“Are you feeling up to it today?” she asks gently. “It’s been a while.”
“I am. I think I’ve spent enough time wallowing. It’s time I get back into life and stop letting all the drama from the last few months drag me down.”
Tessa’s smile hits me straight in the heart, and my lips curve.
“It’s about time. I was starting to wonder if I had to go beat Hunter’s ass just to get you to smile.”
Laughter bubbles out of me before I can stop it. She’s not bluffing. Tessa is sugar and fire, sweet as anything, but try her friends, and she’ll bite. Her heart is so big and beautiful.
“No ass-beating necessary,” I say, pointing to the blueberry muffin at the front of the plate. “Can I have that one, pretty please?” I bat my lashes at her, knowing full well she hates it when people ask for the front muffins.
“Only because you asked so nicely,” she says, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. “Go sit down, and I’ll bring these over to you with a to-go coffee.”
I flash her the cheesiest, most dramatic smile I can muster, earning a playful eye roll before I spin on my heel.
The little corner table by the window, tucked away from the morning chatter, with the sun beaming in, calls to me.
I drop into the chair and pull out my phone, debating if I should give Mom a heads up that I’m coming in or just surprise her.
The screen lights up in my hand, not even a second later.
I freeze, my stomach tightening at his name staring back at me.
I hate the way my heart pounds a little faster, the way my thumb hesitates.
It’s ridiculous, the effect he still has.
Hunter: Hi friend.
Two words. That’s all it takes. A stupid, casual “Hi” that feels anything but casual. The word friend burns in my chest, the nerves low in my belly growing wings. Dragging in a breath, I force myself to type back before I can overthink it.
Me: Why are you texting me?
Hunter: Why not? Friends text, don’t they?
Me: Hunter…
Hunter: Madison…
Me: Stop it.
Hunter: Just wanted to say Hi to my friend that’s all.
Me: Fine. Hi back.
Hunter:
The corners of my mouth twitch despite every warning bell blaring in my head. I shove my phone facedown on the table before I do something stupid, like text him back with a smile. Damn him and his loopholes. He’s going to find every single one and hit me with them. Friends text, don’t they?
“What has you fighting back a smile over here?”
I jump so hard, my knees slam into the table. My hands fly to my chest, clutching at the fabric of my sundress.
“Jesus, why are you sneaking up on me?” I scowl at Tessa.
“I’m pretty sure every single person here saw me walk over, call your name, and snap my fingers in front of your face,” she muses.
Damn, I must have really been lost in my head.
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly, brushing it off like it’s no big deal.
“Nope.” Tessa drops my iced coffee in front of me, places the bag of muffins on the table, and sinks into the chair across from me. “Spill. You have that look on your face. The one you get when your brain’s doing laps, and you’re pretending you’re fine. What’s got you zoning out?”
I groan quietly. She’s not going to leave this alone.
If I don’t give her something to go on, she’s going to call in the girls.
Then it’ll be a group chat ambush, my phone lighting up every five seconds with GIFs and teasing threats.
Maybe even a knock at my door with muffins as a bribe.
Sometimes, a girl just needs to process first. Instead of spilling everything, I do the one thing I’ve gotten dangerously good at lately—running.
I spring from the chair, grab my coffee and the bag of muffins, and back away before she can stop me. “I have to get going,” I blurt, already halfway to the door.
“Hey!” Tessa calls after me.
I spin, giving her a small, guilty finger wave, the paper bag swinging from my wrist. “Talk later! Thank you, love you!”
The floors squeak under my sneakers as I follow the maze of hallways toward the children’s ward.
Faded posters about handwashing and donation drives blur past, edges curling and faded.
The faint sting of disinfectant clings to the air, and I wrinkle my nose.
The walls shift to a soft, pale yellow, the scuffs on the floor growing deeper, more familiar with every step.
When I turn the final corner, a row of mismatched chairs comes into view, their cushions a little sunken.
A smile pulls at my lips when I see the butterfly mural painted above the entrance to the ward.
“Madison, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Sally beams the moment she spots me walking toward the nurse’s station. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Sally.” I lift the bag of muffins to her. “Thought I’d stop in for a surprise visit. I come bearing muffins and all the smiles for the kids.”
Her laugh fills the space between us. “Oh, sweetheart, they’re going to be over the moon to see you. It’s been far too long.” She leans over to the intercom phone on her desk. “Your momma’s around here somewhere. I think she’s on the second floor. Let me page her for you just in case.”
Off to the side, the small playroom catches my eye.
It’s overflowing with donated toys and storybooks.
A small TV is mounted on the wall, playing cartoons for the kids well enough to escape their rooms for a while.
The space is worn, tired, but there’s so much heart here.
Bright flowers crowd the reception desk, gifts for the nurses from grateful parents.
A string of yarn hangs across the front, pegged with polaroids of smiling nurses and kids who’ve graduated to go home.
Behind the desk, thank-you cards are stuck to the wall, and the sky-blue paint is hidden beneath layers of crooked rainbows, paper butterflies, and coloring pages.
“I hear Charlie is heading home soon,” I say, setting the bag down and bending to give her a quick side hug.
“She is. Claire said you volunteered to organize her going-home party.”
“I did,” I say, smiling softly. “Only the best for my favorite girl. Is she in her room?”
“She is. She’s been a bit down these last couple of months. I think she’s missed you.” She passes me a clipboard. “Here, honey, sign on in and then grab what you’d like from the cupboard before you head in.”
“Thanks, Sally. You’re the best.”
She snickers. “Don’t let your momma hear that.”
I sign in, disinfect my hands, and quickly grab my favorite Frozen coloring book along with the new crayons I bought from Halle’s store.
Smiling, I make my way to Charlie’s room, offering quick hellos to the nurses as I pass.
Today’s theme must be favorite animals, with everyone dressed in puppy and kitten-patterned scrubs.
Charlie’s door is covered in snowflakes, and a bright smile forms with the memory of the day we made these.
It was a good day, one without any injections, vomiting, or tears.
We kicked her dad and brother out and had a girls’ day, with her older sister and mom.
We made snowflakes, watched Frozen, and danced to the soundtrack before the exhaustion hit and took over.
Tapping my knuckles lightly on her door, I ease it open and peek my head inside, making sure she’s not sleeping.
Sunlight spills across the bed, catching in her loose golden curls as she flips through a picture book.
Her cheeks are fuller, with more color in them, and the tired shadow beneath her ocean eyes has faded.
The tension I didn’t realize I was holding unravels in my chest. She looks good.
Better. I clear my throat, just loud enough to be heard over the beeping of her monitor, and her head snaps up.
The second her eyes find me, her whole face lights up.
“Madi!” she squeals, the book forgotten. “You came back!”
“Hey, Charlie girl.” I grin, stepping inside. “Think you can forgive me for taking so long?”