Cara
Ihadn’t slept in my bed since running away from Jasper.
The couch had become my refuge, with Wentworth heavy and warm on my chest, Knightley curled at my feet, and Darcy perched like a quiet guardian above my head.
It didn’t smell like him. That mattered more than anything.
My bed still carried his scent, faint but unmistakable.
Whenever I’d slipped in just long enough to dress, the pillow on the left side hit me so hard I’d backed out and shut the door before the ache could pull me under.
The shop felt like a sanctuary that morning—soft morning light filtering through the front windows, casting gentle shadows across the neatly arranged shelves.
The air carried the comforting scent of old paper and fresh ink, with the faint, lingering aroma of the coffee I’d brewed earlier.
It was quiet, almost hushed, the only sound the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards and the soft tick of the clock above the register.
The last customer had left just minutes before the bell chimed again.
I looked up from the open box behind the counter, expecting another early browser.
It was my Grandmother.
She carried two smoothies in a cardboard tray and a small paper bag.
I knew it held one of Eliza’s blueberry muffins because the scent traveled and made my empty stomach growl.
Grandma never arrived empty-handed, and she never came without a reason.
Her dark green coat was buttoned neatly, silver hair pulled back in its usual elegant twist. She took one look at my face, and her expression softened with that perfect mix of love and quiet mischief that was so uniquely hers.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, setting the tray on the counter with a soft sigh. “You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world. And losing the fight, poor thing.”
“Grandma.”
“Eliza mentioned you’ve gone completely silent. Turned that phone off like it bit you.”
“I did.”
“I thought as much. That’s why I decided to show up in person with reinforcements.” She came around the counter and pulled me into her arms. Her hug was warm and enveloping, wrapping me in the familiar scent of lavender and home. “Come here, my girl.”
I melted into it. With Grandma, I never had to pretend I was okay. Tears pricked at my eyes almost immediately.
After a long moment, she eased back, brushed a strand of hair from my forehead, and offered a gentle, knowing smile. “Let’s go sit. We’ll work it all out, okay?”
She led me to the reading nook, where soft morning light pooled on the worn rug.
She settled into the armchair with her usual graceful ease and patted the small couch across from her.
I sank down. She opened the paper bag, placed the still-warm blueberry muffin on a napkin in front of me, and handed me one of the smoothies.
“Have a bite,” she said kindly, her eyes twinkling. “Even if it tastes like sawdust right now. Humor an old woman.”
I broke off a piece and took a small bite. It was tender and sweet, but everything still felt muted through the heavy fog of missing him.
Grandma sipped her smoothie, watching me with that steady, patient gaze that had comforted me through every heartbreak since I was a little girl. She didn’t rush. Instead, she spoke softly. “I’ve been talking with Paige, sweetheart. She’s been worried about both of you.”
My stomach tightened.
“She says he’s miserable, Cara. Really miserable. She’s seen it firsthand behind the bar. The poor man is just going through the motions, quiet and hollow. Paige has known him long enough to recognize when someone’s heart isn’t in it anymore. He’s hurting badly.”
The words landed gently but deeply. A fresh wave of yearning surged through me, so sharp it stole my breath.
I missed Jasper with an intensity that frightened me—the low rumble of his voice in the quiet cabin, the steady way he looked at me like I was his safe place, the warmth of his hand finding mine without a word.
The image of him standing behind that bar, broken and silent, made the ache feel almost unbearable.
Grandma’s eyes filled with quiet sympathy, but a small, affectionate smile touched her lips. “Men do have a special talent for making simple things complicated, don’t they? Bless their stubborn hearts. But that boy is clearly punishing himself more than anyone else ever could.”
She reached across and took my hand, her thumb brushing soothing circles over my knuckles.
“Cara, you’ve been treating two different questions as one.
The first is whether you can forgive him for hiding it from you.
The second is whether you can build a life with a man who has this kind of job. They aren’t the same thing.”
I swallowed hard, tears gathering again.
“The job question is practical,” she continued, her voice warm and steady.
“You sit down together and talk through the real details—how much travel, how the hours might look, what your weeks and months could actually be like. You don’t decide all alone that you can’t live with something you haven’t even seen yet. ”
“And the forgiveness?”
“That one’s harder. It’s about trust. Can you trust a man who, when he got scared, tried to carry everything alone instead of sharing the weight with you?”
The shop felt even quieter now, the morning light wrapping us in a soft, golden hush.
“Grandma, he wasn’t hiding it because he didn’t trust me.”
“No, sweetheart. I know that.”
“He was hiding it because he didn’t trust himself. He was so afraid I’d see the version of him that always leaves. He was trying desperately to become the man who stays before showing me the choice.”
“Yes,” she said softly, her eyes shining with understanding. “He got it wrong. But the reason he got it so wrong was that he wanted to stay with you so badly that it terrified him. That doesn’t excuse it. But it makes it heartbreakingly human.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, warm and unchecked. The longing for Jasper sat heavy and relentless in my chest—the sound of his laugh, the safety of his arms, the way the whole world felt steadier when he was near. Knowing he was suffering behind that bar only made the ache sharper.
Grandma didn’t fuss. She simply held my hand tighter, her touch full of love and quiet strength.
“You don’t have to decide anything today.
You don’t have to call him today. But remember this, he made a real mistake.
A painful one. But a mistake isn’t the whole man.
The man who watched you run Mystery Night like you hung the moon, the man who claimed you in front of a bar full of strangers, the man with your books on his dresser and who fell in love with you with your cats at his feet, that man is real too.
The hurt and the love both exist. You’re allowed to feel every bit of both. ”
She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her voice dropping to a tender whisper. “And sweetheart? From what Paige saw, he misses you just as fiercely as you miss him right now. I’d bet on that.”
I let out a shaky little laugh through the tears, small and broken but genuine.
“I didn’t confide in him either,” I admitted.
“I never told him how much Eric scared me, that it kept me up at night. Or how long he’d been after me.
He ended up talking about it with Paige.
This is my fault, too. I kind of did the same thing. ”
“It’s going to be okay. You know that, right?” She stood eventually, brushing off her coat with a light, graceful motion. “Take your time, my darling. But don’t let time make the decision for you.”
“Okay,” I whispered, knowing I needed to talk this through with him.
She pulled me into one last hug, cradling the back of my head like she had when I was small. “I love you more than all the books in this shop put together.”
“I love you too, Grandma,” I whispered, my voice thick.
“Call your sisters. They’re worried sick.”
“I will. Today.”
She gave me one final warm, knowing smile—the kind that wrapped around my heart like a soft blanket—then turned and left. The bell chimed softly behind her, leaving the shop in peaceful quiet once more.
I stayed in the reading nook for a long while, the muffin half-eaten. The yearning for Jasper sat heavy in my chest, but alongside it now was a fragile thread of clarity.
I wasn’t ready to drive to the cabin yet.
But I was closer.
And when I was ready, I would go to him—not just with the hurt, but with the love that refused to let go.