We’re all here, tucked into our usual corner booth at The Cocoa Nook, a fragile truce declared over mugs of coffee and plates of eggs. Maddox is slumped in his seat, a deep weariness etched around his eyes that has nothing to do with a lack of sleep and everything to do with the secrets he carries. He insisted on this breakfast, a mission to reinforce the newly repaired foundation of our friendship.
“I’m glad you two sorted your issues,” he says as he takes a long sip of his black coffee. He’s not looking at either of us, his gaze fixed on some point on the wall, as if to give us space even while he’s sitting right here.
“I’m okay,” I say, the words feeling both true and not. The panic attack is a memory, a terrifying but distant storm, but the emotional landscape it left behind is still jagged and unfamiliar. I glance at Liam, who’s sitting beside me, his armresting casually along the back of the booth, just inches from my shoulders. He gives me a small, reassuring smile, and a knot in my chest loosens.
Over at the counter, Jessica is dusting the shelves, her movements a little too bright, a little too energetic. She catches my eye and offers a tight, professional smile. I nod back. The sight of her no longer sends a hot stone of dread into my gut.
“We need a nice night out,” Maddox declares, finally looking at us. “All of us. No drama, no deep conversations. Just drinks. Maybe this weekend. We can hit up Bar 2.0.”
Liam and I exchange a look. It’s a good idea. A way to reset, to find our new normal. “Yeah,” Liam agrees. “I’m in.”
“Me too,” I add. “That sounds… nice.”
After we finish our breakfast, Maddox leaves, pulling me into a quick, hard hug. “Be good,” he murmurs into my hair before he’s gone, the bell jingling his departure.
Liam and I get back to work, falling into the familiar rhythm of cleaning up and getting ready for the morning rush. It’s easier now. The air between us has cleared, the unspoken words finally voiced.
I watch him as he works, the way he laughs with a customer, the easy grace with which he steams milk and creates a perfect rosetta on a latte. He’s so good at this, at making people feel seen and cared for.
He’s a warmth in the center of the room, a beacon of normalcy in a town that’s still healing, and I find myself just… watching him. A soft smile plays on my lips, a private, quiet moment of appreciation.
Around eleven, the bell jingles again, and Shepard Hale walks in. He’s dressed in a dark polo shirt, his eyes scanning the room before they land on me. My heart gives a familiar old flutter, a ghost of a feeling.
“Millie,” he says, his voice warm as he approaches the counter. “Liam. Good to see you both.”
“Shepard,” Liam replies, his tone polite but a little cool. He turns to wipe down the espresso machine, giving us a semblance of privacy.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Shepard says, his focus entirely on me. “We’re making some real progress at the library, but we’re swamped with organizing the new donations. I was wondering if you might be free to come by this evening? We could use your expertise.”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Of course,” I say, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “What time?”
“Around six? We’ll probably order pizza.”
“I’ll be there.”
He grins, that same easy smile that used to make my stomach do flips. “Great. Thanks, Millie.” He pays for his coffee, gives Liam a brief nod, and then he’s gone.
The library in the evening is a different creature. The sun streams through the arched windows, casting low shadows across the floors. The air smells of old paper, lemon polish, and the scent of new paint. Scaffolding still lines one wall, a reminder of the fire’s reach, but the main space is clearing up. Boxes are stacked in neat rows, waiting to be unpacked.
Shepard is there, as promised, along with Sadie. They’re working together, a well-oiled machine of unpacking and sorting. I watch them for a moment from the doorway, unseen. Shepard reaches for a book at the same time Sadie does, their hands brushing. He laughs, and then he leans in and kisses her. It’s a small, sweet, utterly domestic peck on the lips.
And I wait for it. I wait for the familiar pit, that hollow, achy void that opens up in my stomach whenever I see them together. I wait for the sting of jealousy, the irrational wave of hurt that tears my heart out, piece by painful piece.
I wait.
And nothing happens.
I watch them pull apart, share a smile, and go back to work, and I feel… nothing. A quiet sense of peace.
The good news is, I’m over him.
The realization hits me with the force of a gentle wave, not a crashing storm. Seeing him with Sadie doesn’t hurt because he was never really mine to lose.
The crush I had on Shepard was a fantasy, a placeholder for the real, terrifying, and complicated feelings I have for the men in my life right now. My heart is already occupied, tied up in a messy, beautiful, heartbreaking knot with two men who are my best friends, my home, and my biggest risk all at once.
I take a deep breath, the smell of old books filling my lungs, and I walk into the room, ready to work.
Maddox
