“You don’t get to talk about her,” I said, my voice low. “You sure as hell don’t get to warn me off like you’re doing me a favor. Eliza is not a complication. She’s the best part of my day—always. If you’ve got a problem with that, I suggest you take it somewhere else.”
He blinked, but the smirk returned. “Guess I hit a nerve.”
I stepped back. “Enjoy your breakfast. It’ll be your last here.”
“You’re throwing me out?”
I smiled without warmth. “Call it customer selection.”
Graham sat there like he wanted to say more, but then my grandma appeared at my side, crossed her arms, and raised one eyebrow like she’d been listening from the start.
He stood up, brushed imaginary crumbs off his sleeves, and smiled at her with politician polish. “Good morning,” he said to her, startled.
“Get. Out.” She didn’t break her stare. Graham hesitated, searching for some angle, and apparently finding none he could work with.
The tension hung in the air—sharp, but fleeting. With a stiff nod to both of us, he moved past, his smile melting away as soon as he thought no one was looking. He left with fake charm and a nod toward the counter.
She patted my shoulder. “You looked like you’re about to punch him in his big dumb face.”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“You’re not,” she said, gently. “But you’re allowed to not be.”
“He’s an ass, Nate,” Nancy said as she patted my shoulder. “Always has been. Soon enough, the half of town that didn’t know it will find out. Don’t you worry about that.”
I looked around the diner—still half full, clinking spoons and murmured conversation. Conversations that seemed to agree with Nancy and my grandma.
“We’ve got it covered,” Grandma gave my hand a squeeze.
“Grandma—”
“I’m serious. Take a walk. Go for a run. Take Lois. She’s probably dying to get out of the house. Your grandpa loves walking her, but he can’t run like he used to.”
My lips twitched. “You just want me to stop brooding around the customers.”
“That too.”
I grabbed my jacket and keys. The cold air would help. Maybe.
She was right about one thing—I needed to get out of my own head before I did something stupid. Like, drive back to the Coffee Cabin and kiss Eliza again until she forgets why she ever pushed me away. Or go to Graham’s restaurant and punch him in his smug face.
I went home to change into my workout gear, picked up Lois, and ran.
And tried not to think about how it felt like I was losing something I’d only just started to believe I could have.
Chapter 30
Eliza
Afew days had passed since everything cracked open, and somehow that made it worse. Time gave my thoughts too much room to stretch and circle. Graham hadn’t disappeared—he’d simply learned how to linger. A comment disguised as civility. A glance that suggested unfinished business. The familiar pressure of feeling smaller than I meant to be, quieter than I was.
That unsettled me most. Not knowing what he wanted—or even if he knew himself. With Graham, silence had always been the sharpest blade—he never yelled, never resorted to outright cruelty. Just enough implication of what simmered beneath his surface to keep me second-guessing my instincts, wondering if I was the problem. I hated that it still worked. I hated that after everything I’d been through with him, he could still reach inside me and flip that switch.
The scent of smoke from the barbecue hit me as I rounded the back gate at my grandparents’ place, sharp and comforting all at once. Laughter drifted across the yard, tangled with the crackle of the fire pit and the hiss of sausages hitting the grill. Paige’s daughters were sitting by the fire pit, cider mugs in hand,poking at the flames with long sticks like it was their solemn responsibility to keep the fire alive.
The place carried the weight of a hundred ordinary memories I had only recently realized shaped the entirety of who I was. It was proof that I’d always had a place to land, even when I forgot it.
The Honeybrook Inn rose at the front of the lot, all welcoming windows and warm light, the trees lining the pathway to the main entrance already covered with frost. The Coffee Cabin sat closer to the road. Behind the house, the old barn stood solid and weathered, doors thrown open, string lights spilling out like stars caught on nails.
