"Hey." My voice sounds strange, thin and fragile in the quiet space.
He lifts the paper bag. "Brought some food. Nothing fancy. Just sandwiches from The Place. You need to eat. Sit down and let me take care of it."
The simple thoughtfulness of it catches me off guard. I haven't eaten, actually. Haven't even thought about it.
"Thanks." I gesture toward a corner table, the only one I haven't put up yet. "We can sit there."
He follows me, keeping a careful distance as I finish my closing routine, chairs up, coffee machines unplugged, counters wiped one last time. The familiar checklist steadies me.
"You know," he says, pulling out a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, "I worked at The Place through high school. Used to close every night. Had a whole system too."
I glance at him, unwrapping my own sandwich. "Let me guess, you'd skip steps to get out early."
"Actually, no." He smiles, the warmth of it reaching his eyes. "I was weirdly meticulous. Had to be done right or I'd lose sleep."
Something in my chest loosens slightly. I take a bite of the sandwich to avoid responding. Turkey and Swiss, simple, good.
"So." He doesn't push, just leaves the word hanging between us.
I swallow hard. "I don't know where to start."
"Talk to me. You don’t have to give me every detail, but I want the truth."
His calm steadiness makes my eyes burn. I stare at the table, at my half-eaten sandwich, at anywhere but him.
"I'm dealing with some legal issues," I finally say, my voice barely audible. "From Oregon."
Axel nods, waiting.
"Court papers," I continue, each word feeling like it's being dragged from me. "That I haven't opened. They keep calling, Oregon numbers—and I keep ignoring them."
"Are you safe?" he asks, and the simplicity of the question nearly breaks me.
"I don't know," I whisper, finally looking up at him. "That's what terrifies me. I don't know if we're safe anymore."
He shifts forward, careful not to crowd me. "Sadie?—"
"I can't tell you everything," I cut in, panic rising. "I can't. There's too much at stake. Poppy…"
"Hey." His hand slides across the table, not quite touching mine. "I'm not asking for everything. Just what you want to share."
His fingers are so close to mine, the faint brush of air between us carrying his cologne across the inches that remain.
I stare at our almost-touching hands.
"There's someone looking for us," I manage. "Someone I left behind in Oregon. Someone dangerous."
Axel's jaw tightens, but his voice stays calm. "The sedan outside that day?"
I nod, throat tight. "Maybe. I don't know. But I'm scared it's starting again."
"Again?"
"He found us once before." The words tumble out before I can stop them.
"When Poppy was born. He showed up at the hospital. I had to leave in the middle of the night. Rowan helped me get here, start over."
I watch his hand move, slow and certain, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. His fingertips tease mine, and the heat that sparks between us is no accident. His eyes don’t leave my face, daring me to look away, daring me to admit what I feel.I can’t breathe with him this close, can’t think with so much want curling low inside me.
