I sighed, grabbed the bagged up trash, chucked it in the can, then started walking back toward the Coffee Cabin.
The town square was mostly quiet now, except for the wind rattling the bare branches and the occasional bark from the dog park. Winter in Honeybrook Hollow was a peaceful kindof beautiful—gray skies, warm lights in shop windows, and the smell of pine and frost lingering in the air. I was beginning to understand why my sisters loved it here so much.
I pushed open the back door of the Coffee Cabin and stepped inside to see my grandma at the counter, carefully rearranging the gift card display like it was a high-stakes game of coffee-themed Tetris.
“Well?” she said without looking up. “Did you kiss him?”
“Grandma!”
She turned around with an entirely unrepentant smile. “What? I have a vested interest in your happiness.”
“First of all, you swore secrecy. This was supposed to be a low-key, stealth lunch. No big deal. Not a date. You were sworn to grandma-level secrecy.”
“I didn’t tell anyone. Okay, yeah, I told Joyce. But she already knew, and she can keep a secret, don’t worry.”
“Joyce? Is that Nate’s grandma?” I trailed off, acutely aware that there were hidden threads connecting everyone in Honeybrook Hollow, like roots beneath the frozen ground. It seemed my grandma’s circle of influence stretched farther than I realized, touching corners of my life I thought were private. I glanced at her, searching for any hint of mischief in her eyes, but she just grinned at me as if she’d orchestrated my entire life from the time I got into town.
“Yes.”
My mouth dropped open. “Until today, I was unaware you knew his grandma. How well?”
“Of course, I know her; this is a small town.” She waved a hand as if I had asked if she knew how to breathe. “Joyce and I grew up together. We were terrible teenagers, but somehow survived and became very good at meddling in other people’s lives.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Oh my God. Is nothing sacred in this town?”
My accusation hung in the air between us, but Grandma didn’t even flinch. If anything, her eyes twinkled brighter. “Let’s just say, in Honeybrook Hollow, nothing escapes the grandmas.” She winked conspiratorially. “Especially when it comes to ensuring our favorite people find their happiness.” Suddenly, I wasn’t sure if I should be exasperated or grateful for her persistent involvement. “I mean, someone had to tell Nate that this place had the best coffee and cocoa in town, right?”
“You’re a menace. She is, too. Dang.”
She smiled sweetly. “A helpful menace. And don’t act like you didn’t have a good time. You came back all flushed and dreamy.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
I groaned and slumped against the counter. “Why did I ever tell you?”
“Because you love me and I love you and I gave you this entire Coffee Cabin to run to make you stay in town with your family where you belong, duh.”
She handed me a fresh cup of tea without asking if I wanted it, steam curling up to warm my cheeks. I accepted it with a sigh and took a sip. She seemed to always know what I needed. Maybe what I really need to do is believe inthis. This place, this family, this life I was so afraid to let myself sink into.
“Just… don’t say anything, okay?” I muttered. “It’s not a big deal. It was lunch, that’s it. And I don’t know what it is yet. He’s nice. I like him. I don’t need a parade.”
“Fine. No parade.” She paused. “How about a very small marching band?”
“Grandma!”
She laughed, and I couldn’t help it—I laughed too.
Maybe I’d made a mistake telling her. But as I stood there, sipping her delicious tea and letting the warmth chase off the last of the cold, I also couldn’t deny this tiny spark in my chest. A flicker of something that felt suspiciously like hope.
Which, honestly, was far more terrifying than any marching band or parade could ever be.
Chapter 7
Nate
The Coffee Cabin looked almost ethereal in the cold morning light—warm glow spilling out of the windows, steam curling from the vents, and the smell of espresso drifting across the parking lot like a promise I actually believed in.
