“Morning,” he said, keeping his voice light. “What can I get you?”
Still no eye contact. Just a quick, jerky nod and a mumbled, “Coffee. Black.”
“Anything else?”
“No. Just coffee.”
Scribbling the order, Zack tried to get a better look without being obvious about it. Nothing stood out. No visible weapons, no threatening posture. Just someone who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else but couldn’t quite manage to leave.
“Be right back with that.”
Walking away felt like peeling off duct tape. Every instinct screamed to keep an eye on the stranger, but turning around and staring would’ve been too obvious. Instead, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other until he reached the coffee station.
Jace appeared at his elbow, balancing a tray of food. “You okay? Look a bit shaken.”
“Fine.” The word came out too fast. “Just... weird customer.”
“Aren’t they all?” He rolled his eyes and disappeared toward booth seven.
Pouring coffee into a clean mug, Zack’s hands stayed steady even though his brain was sprinting in circles. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe the stranger was just shy, or anxious, or having a bad day. People got nervous around servers all the time.
Except this didn’t feel like normal nerves.
Carrying the mug back, he set it down carefully in front of the stranger. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else.”
A barely audible “thanks” followed him as he retreated.
From across the diner, Axel’s voice boomed over the noise. “Zack! Order up!”
Grateful for the distraction, he jogged to the kitchen window where three plates waited. Axel stood on the other side, massive arms crossed over his apron, eyebrow raised.
“You forget how to walk in a straight line this morning?”
“Blame the weather,” Zack shot back, grabbing the plates. “Rain makes me dyslexic.”
“That’s not how dyslexia works.”
“Prove it.”
A snort escaped Axel, almost a laugh. “Get those to table eight before they stage a revolt. And next time you bring the wrong order to someone, at least make it interesting. Pancakes are boring.”
“Noted. Next time I’ll throw in a waffle for drama.”
“Smartass.”
“Better than dumbass.”
Axel’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “Get back to work.”
Delivering the plates to table eight went smoothly, no mix-ups this time. As he turned back toward the counter, the front door swung open, letting in a gust of wet air and the sound of rain hammering pavement.
And then Colton walked in.
Everything in Zack’s body went still. Not frozen, exactly—more like every cell suddenly remembered it had a purpose and that purpose was paying attention to the man filling the doorway.
Soaked from the rain, dark hair plastered to his forehead, T-shirt clinging to every ridiculous muscle, Colton looked like he’d walked straight out of some fever dream. Water dripped from his jaw as he scanned the diner, gaze sweeping across tables until it landed on Zack.
Brown eyes locked onto him, and the world got smaller.
