"Does everyone in this town know my schedule?"
"Pretty much. Mom's been updating everyone." Andi accepts a plate of pie from Maggie with a grateful nod. "Also, the pilot's been asking about you."
I close my eyes. "Not you too."
"I'm just the messenger." She takes a bite of pie. "For what it's worth, he seems nice. A little lost, maybe. But nice."
"Lost?"
"You know how some people look like they're exactly where they're supposed to be, and some people look like they're still figuring it out?" Andi shrugs. "He's got that second energy. Like he's waiting for something to make sense."
Before I can respond, Maggie reappears with a plate she definitely didn't order for me. A thick slice of cherry pie, still warm, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream melting on top.
"On the house." She slides it across the counter. "You look like you need it."
"I look fine."
"You look like someone who's been answering questions about a man all morning and pretending she doesn't like him." Maggie plants her elbows on the counter, fixing me with the stare of a woman who's been reading people for decades. "That boy's been moping since you left the base yesterday. Came in here last night looking like someone kicked his puppy."
"He has a dog. Maybe someone actually kicked his puppy."
"Ranger's fine. I sent him home with a patty, same as always." Maggie's expression softens. "He's a good one, that Dean. Lonely, though. Don't let the smile fool you."
The words land differently than I expect. I think about the way Dean deflects with humor, the charm that's just slightly too practiced, the moments when his grin doesn't quite reach his eyes.
Maybe she's right. Maybe the smile is armor.
"There's nothing going on," I say, stabbing my fork into the pie. "I did a consultation. He showed me around. That's it."
"Mmhm."
"It's professional."
"Of course it is."
"I'm not interested in dating anyone, and I'm definitely not interested in dating someone in the military."
Maggie just smiles—the patient smile of a woman who buried a soldier husband and spent thirty years watching other soldiers fall in love in her diner.
"Honey," she says gently, "I've been watching men and women dance around each other since before you were born. I know the signs." She pats my hand. "Eat your pie. You'll feel better."
She moves off to refill coffee cups, leaving me alone with Andi and a dessert I didn't ask for.
"She's not wrong, you know," Andi says quietly. "About the lonely thing."
I look at her. "You know him?"
"We've crossed paths on base. He's friends with Dev—Master Sergeant Porter, runs the K9 unit." She pushes her pie around the plate. "Lost people recognize each other, I think."
There's something in her voice that suggests she's speaking from experience, but I don't push. We all have our stories.
Andi glances at her watch and winces. "I should get back. Runways don't clear themselves."
She slides off her stool, dropping cash on the counter. "Good luck with the consultation. And with the pilot."
"There's nothing?—"
"Sure." She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "See you around, Callie."
