There was only one person who stopped by this early; only one person she had been purposefully unlocking the door at this time for.
“Morning,” he called out, his voice low and rough with the threads of lingering sleep.
Hazel turned and peered over her shoulder at him as he crossed to the counter. As he moved, he lifted one hand up to run through the curling locks of his still-wet hair, the dark strands glistening in the low light as if he’d come straight from the shower. His jacket was halfway zipped, boots dusted with mud. There was a smear of grease or something dark under one of his fingernails, and his knuckles looked raw, like he’d been working with tools.
“You’re early,” she replied, brushing flour off her fingers and onto a tea towel. She set the chilled dough aside and then crossed the bakery, heading toward the counter that always separated them early in the morning.
He gave a slight smile, one corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Didn’t sleep.”
Hazel exhaled through her nose, not quite a laugh. “Me either.”
That quiet beat lingered between them, soft and charged. When she looked up again, he was watching her— not intensely, not like he was trying to read her. Justthere, present, in a way most people never bothered to be. His gaze dropped briefly to the dark circles under her eyes. He looked like he might say something, then stopped himself. Instead, he nodded toward the pastry case. His eyes lingered there, too.
“The scones look a bit different this morning,” he remarked, neck bending a bit as he leaned in closer to the glass, studying them.
Hazel’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as she turned towards the case, one hip leaning against the counter at her side. She watched Beck’s gaze as it studied the items she’d prepped that morning; the case wasmostly full, just a few more items still baking in the oven or waiting for their turn to be shelved.
“I upped the zest this morning,” she admitted, eyes wandering to the scones. The orange glaze was a bit darker than in the days prior. “Needed something a little brighter today, I guess.”
Beck nodded, thoughtful. Then he turned back to her, already reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his wallet. “I’ll take two.”
Hazel reached for a sheet of parchment and wrapped the pastries carefully before settling them into a to-go box. Just as she turned towards the coffee maker, she hesitated.
“You want your usual? Black?”
Beck opened his mouth to say yes, but paused. “Actually… could you make it to go?”
Her stomach dipped to her knees, a sudden wash of dread clawing against the edges of her chest. She glanced up at him, studying his face for a beat, searching for an explanation, though it gave none.
“Sure,” she murmured, her eyes drifting away.
“Gotta be out at the trailhead by seven. There’s a downed tree across the coastal loop, figure I should deal with it before the tourists start trying to climb it.”
She nodded once, though the words washed over her in that soft, early-morning way where nothing felt quite real.
He cleared his throat, then added, “And I’ve got to stop by one of the lighthouses, the motion sensor’s been tripping weird. Might be condensation again.”
Thatcaught her attention.
Her hand stilled on the small box she’d been trying to work closed, his scones tucked inside. Her eyes lifted to his and her lips parted, just enough to let out a soft breath.
“You maintain the lighthouses?”
“Some of ’em,” he said, nodding. “Seasonal contract with parks and rec. Keeps me busy.”
Hazel stared at him for a moment, then turnedback to pour his coffee into a takeaway cup. She secured the lid and slid it across the counter towards him with the box.
And as she did, something clicked.
That quiet silhouette she used to watch from her bedroom window as a child, the keeper of the light, the maybe-man with his coffee and his collar turned against the wind, he hadn’t been real. Not then. But he felt real now.
He felt like Beck.
Something about it made her chest tighten— not painfully, but with a sudden rush of warmth, like a thread pulling taut. It made sense, in a way little else had in weeks. Of coursehewas the one making sure the light still worked, even when no one else was looking.
“You do a little bit of everything, don’t you?” she asked, voice softer than before.
Beck gave a half-shrug, though Hazel couldn’t miss the way his lips curved a bit. There was a subtle warmth lifting to his cheeks, causing her stomach to do a gentle somersault.
