Page 58 of Unearthed Dreams
“Oh, honey. Men say a lot of things when they’re scared. Doesn’t make them right.”
I glanced at my reflection in the vanity mirror—dark circles under my eyes, hair pulled into a messy bun. I’d barely slept this week, spending nights staring at my phone, willing it to light up with his name. During the day, I’d throw myself into work at the bookstore, reorganizing shelves that didn’t need it, just to keep my hands busy.
I’d even tried working on my novel, but every time I opened the manuscript, all I could see were Kai’s notes in the margins. His careful observations. The way he’d understood exactly what I was trying to say.
“I’ve got him here now,” Rosie continued. “We’re planning a memorial at the bar. Four o’clock today.”
My throat tightened. “Is that... would that be okay? Me being there?”
“Charlotte Everton, you listen to me.” Rosie’s voice took on that stern-but-loving tone she usually reserved for teenagers trying to skip out on their bill. “That man has been through hell, and he’s about to go through more if someone doesn’t stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s talking about selling the bar. Leaving town.”
The words cracked open my chest.Leaving?After everything we’d shared, everything we’d built, he was just going to...
“Like hell he is.” The steel in my own voice surprised me.
Rosie’s laugh crackled through the phone. “That’s my girl.”
Ten minutes later,I pushed through the diner’s door, the familiar bell chiming overhead. The scent of coffee and bacon wrapped around me, but my eyes were fixed on the counter where Kai sat hunched over a mug. His shoulders were tight with tension, his white hair pulled back in a messy bun that looked like he hadn’t touched it in days.
My heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked... smaller somehow. Like grief had carved pieces away.
A cardboard box sat on the counter beside him. Simple, unadorned. Nothing like the ornate urns in movies. My throat tightened as I realized what—who—must be inside.
Rosie caught my eye from behind the counter, giving me a subtle nod. She was still talking to Kai about memorial plans, her voice gentle but firm as she shot down his every attempt to minimize the event.
“We’ll need chairs,” she was saying. “And proper glasses, not those plastic things you use during tourist season.”
“Rosie, it doesn’t have to be?—”
“Yes, it does.” She cut him off, then looked past him to where I stood frozen in the doorway. Her eyes softened. “Some things are worth doing right.”
Kai’s shoulders tensed further, like he could feel my presence even without turning around. I took a step forward, then another, my heart thundering in my chest.
“Hi.” My voice came out softer than I meant it to.
Kai went completely still, his knuckles whitening around his coffee mug. For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then, slowly, he turned.
The shadows under his eyes were worse up close. His neat beard had grown unkempt, and his skin had a gray cast to it, like he hadn’t seen sunlight in days. But it was his eyes that broke my heart—haunted, hollow, like he’d been through a war and lost.
“Charlie.” He rasped my name as if it hurt to speak.
“I’ll just...” Rosie backed away, busying herself at the other end of the counter. But I caught her small, encouraging nod.
“I heard about Billy.” The words felt inadequate even as I said them. “I’m so sorry, Kai.”
His jaw clenched. “Why are you here?”
“Because you don’t have to do this alone.”
“I told you?—”
“I know what you told me.” I stepped closer, close enough to smell coffee and grief on him. “I don’t care.”
His eyes darted around the diner—past Mr. Henderson at his usual booth, past the couple by the window, past Rosie pretending not to watch us. Even grief-stricken and exhausted, he was still thinking about protecting me from small-town gossip.
