I don’t look back as I walk out, but I can feel her gaze on me, warm and searching. Outside in the parking lot, I check my phone. Her name stares back at me.
It’s a start. A small crack letting light in.
I'm still grinning like an idiot when I reach my truck, and I can't help glancing down at my phone one more time to see her name and number saved there. Sadie Calloway. Seven digits that suddenly feel more important than any business deal I've ever closed.
"Get it together," I mutter to myself, but the smile won't leave my face.
I slide into the driver's seat, tossing my keys onto the passenger seat. Her contact information glows on my screen, and I trace my thumb over her name. Something shifted between us in there, I felt it. The way she let me hold her hand for those few seconds, the unguarded moment when she thanked me for last night. It wasn't much, but from Sadie, it feels monumental.
My phone buzzes in my hand, startling me. A text message.
Sadie: I'm not ok
The world drops out from under me. Three simple words that slam into my chest like a physical blow. I look up instantly, my eyes finding the café window.
She's standing there watching me, one hand pressed against the glass. Even from here, I can see it, the crack in her careful armor, the raw fear in her eyes. She's letting me see it, deliberately showing me what she's been hiding.
Her eyes are wide, pleading, and fuck if that doesn’t twist something primal in my chest. Every part of me wants to kick down the door, drag her out of there, protect her from whatever’s closing in. But she’s trusting me not to make a scene.I can’t blow this. I force my hand off the door, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
She wants help. She picked me. That’s all I need to know.
Before I can second-guess myself, I type a response.
Me: I'm coming back tonight. After close. We'll talk.
I watch the window, waiting for some acknowledgment. She reads the message, I can tell by the way her shoulders shift slightly. For a heartbeat, her eyes close, relief or fear, I can't tell which. Then she turns away, back to the counter, back to work. In seconds, she's moving with that same efficient precision I've come to recognize, the fortress rebuilding in real time.
But she texted me. She reached out.
I start the truck, my jaw tight as I pull out of the parking space. This isn't about coffee or casual flirting anymore. This is something else entirely, something real and urgent and maybe dangerous. The dark sedan, the fear in her eyes when she checks her phone, the way she guards her daughter like someone who knows exactly how fragile safety can be.
As I drive away, my mind is already racing ahead to tonight. I'll bring food, something simple, nothing that feels like pressure. I'll listen more than I talk. I'll be whatever she needs me to be, whether that's a shoulder to cry on or someone to help her face whatever's coming.
Because something is coming. I can feel it in my bones.
I check the time. Eight hours until Pike's Perk closes. Eight hours to figure out how to be the kind of man who deserves the trust Sadie Calloway just placed in me.
Chapter 11
Sadie
Iwatch Axel's truck pull away, my palm still pressed to the cold window glass. My stomach clenches hard, panic rising in my throat.
What did I just do? Three words, and I've shattered the careful wall I've built around my life.
I turn away from the window, nearly colliding with Rowan. She's standing there with a stack of clean mugs, her eyes narrowed.
"What was that about?" she asks, nodding toward the parking lot where Axel's truck just disappeared.
"Nothing," I mutter, brushing past her to grab a rag. "Just finalizing the catering order."
"Right." Rowan sets the mugs down with deliberate care. "That explains why you're white as a sheet and shaking."
"I'm not shaking." But my hands betray me, trembling as I wipe down an already-clean counter. "I'm fine."
"Sadie." She steps closer, her voice dropping. "What's going on? And don't say 'nothing' again or I swear I'll?—"
My phone buzzes in my pocket, cutting her off. I freeze, my fingers suddenly numb as I pull it out. Not Oregon. It's him.
