Trucks rolled slowly toward the exit, haulers groaning under the weight of bikes and gear. Crew members in half-zipped jackets carried toolboxes and coils of hose, the frenetic energy of race day replaced by a tired, satisfied shuffle.
Bree stood near the entrance to Bay Street with her sketchbook tucked under her arm, the breeze from the harbor tugging at the ends of her hair. The warehouse sat at her back, a solid, waiting presence.
Carmen had texted an hour ago.
Coffee? One last civilized beverage before I hit the highway.
Bree had replied with the name of a little place off Main that did decent lattes and had mismatched armchairs that encouraged lingering. She’d walked to the warehouse first anyway; she needed to touch it, to remind herself why everything felt so very in-between.
She let her palm rest against the rough brick for a second, then headed toward town.
Main Street was in that post-event state where everything looked slightly disheveled; banners drooped, trash cans bulged, shop owners stood in doorways with brooms, sweeping confetti and sand back into rough order. People still wore Cup T-shirts, but the edge of excitement had softened into the sleepy satisfaction of having witnessed something big.
The café bell jingled when she pushed the door open. Inside, the air smelled like espresso, cinnamon, and the faint tang of something citrus. A ceiling fan turned lazily overhead.
Carmen already occupied an armchair in the back corner, a to-go cup on the low table in front of her, her jacket folded neatly over the back of the chair. Without the Dragon logo blazing across her shoulders, she looked younger, or maybe just lighter.
“You’re early,” Bree said, dropping into the opposite chair.
“I wanted to make sure they didn’t run out of the good muffins,” Carmen said. “They didn’t. I got you one.” She nudged a napkin-wrapped bundle toward her.
Bree peeled it back: blueberry, with a crumble top. “You know my weaknesses.”
“I pay attention,” Carmen said. “Eventually.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few sips. Outside, a couple wandered past, arguing good-naturedly about whether to stop at the bookstore or the fudge shop first.
“So,” Carmen said at last. “How’s it feel? Waking up and knowing you’re not going home in two days.”
“Terrifying,” Bree said. “And… right.”
Carmen smiled, a corner of her mouth quirking. “Good terrifying, or the ‘I made a terrible mistake’ kind?”
“Good,” Bree said. She picked at the edge of her muffin. “I talked to my parents again this morning. They’d gone back to the cemetery to tidy up, like they always do after a visitation day. My mom was worried about the safety stuff; my dad wanted to know if the warehouse has decent parking.”
“He would get along with my father,” Carmen said. "Dads and parking stuff! They seemed okay?”
“They’re… catching up,” Bree said. “It’s like I hit fast-forward on my life and they’re trying to watch a replay in slow motion. They’ll get there.”
“And Hank?” Carmen asked. “Is he holding up under all this responsible-adult pressure?”
“He’s pretending he’s fine,” Bree said. “Which means he’s quietly freaking out and making lists in his head. He’s meeting with Colby and Brian right now to go over Jason’s preliminary numbers. He promised to text me if he needs someone to talk him down from ordering a lifetime supply of security cameras.”
Carmen snorted. “I might contribute to that fund.”
They sipped again.
“I meant what I said last night,” Carmen said eventually. “I’m glad you’re staying. Copper Moon’s better with you in it.”
Bree’s chest pinched. “You sure you’re not just saying that because you think I’ll let you use my studio bathroom when you’re in town?”
“That too,” Carmen said. “I’m going to need a place to change shoes between events when I’m not hauling Dragons’ swag anymore.”
“You’re really taking the Cup job?” Bree asked.
Carmen nodded. “I said yes this morning,” she said. “They’re putting the contract together. It’s part-time to start; I’ll coordinate community activities for Copper Moon and two of the other smaller tracks. It’s not glamorous, but it feels… clean.”
Bree let out a breath. “I’m happy for you,” she said. “And selfishly, I’m relieved. Knowing you’ll be nearby sometimes makes this whole staying thing feel less like jumping into the void.”
