Page 20 of When the Storm Breaks
“I’ve already taken up too much of your day,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “But thanks for letting me stay. It was… nice to have a quiet place to work.”
His lips curve into that easy, lopsided smile. “You’re welcome. It’s nice having company in the mornings. Makes the place feel a little less empty.”
Something about the way he says it catches me off guard. He’s not just being polite—there’s a sincerity in his voice that stays with me.
As I reach for my coat, I glance around, struck by how comfortable I’ve felt here. It’s been a long time since silence felt like a choice, not a burden. This was different. Uncomplicated.
“Calla?”
His voice pulls me back. When I meet his eyes, there’s something sure in them. “It’s really nice having you here,” he says, stepping closer. His hand brushes lightly against mine. “If you ever need a spot to work, or just want to hang out… I’m here most mornings by eight. Come by whenever.”
His fingers linger for just a beat longer than expected before he pulls away, and I can’t help the smile that rises—small, unexpected, and real.
But as I step back, an unwelcome memory cuts through the moment. A different touch. A different night. A stranger’s hands leaving a mark that still burns beneath my skin. Chase’s touch is nothing likethat. His is sweet, careful. A quiet nudge instead of a bolt of lightning.
I push the thought aside, forcing myself back into the present. Not now. Not here.
“Thanks, Chase. I appreciate it.”
He grins, already stepping back toward the bar. “Don’t mention it. Have a good day, Calla.”
“You too.” I tighten my grip on my bag and step outside, the door clicking softly shut behind me.
The late afternoon air chills my skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth Chase left in me. But it’s the ghost of the stranger’s grip that lasts longer. It doesn’t make sense, and I hate how easily it shakes me.
Jaw tight and mind swirling, I pick up my pace down the sidewalk, determined to leave the memory behind.
Chapter 9
Calla
The next week slips by. Each morning, sunlight spills through my window as I roll out of bed, dress, and head to Maple & Clover, bag already packed.
I swear Maggie’s smile has gotten brighter over the past week. Every morning when I walk in, my usual order is already waiting: hot black coffee, a latte, and a maple pecan scone. After a quick hello, I duck behind the counter to greet the girls, their excitement impossible to ignore. It’s a small but constant moment of happiness that centers me before the day begins.
Then it’s off to Driftwood. The walk is short, the steps memorized now. When I reach the door, I knock three times—loud, evenly spaced taps. It’s become our calling card. On the second day I came, Chase and I exchanged numbers, just in case he didn’t hear me knocking, just in case we needed a backup plan. I’ve never actually texted him, though. I haven’t needed to.
I take my usual spot at the same table, in the same chair. There’s something comforting in the routine. Chase moves around me, alwayscareful not to disrupt my focus, but he’s never far. Some mornings, we barely speak, content in a comfortable silence. Other times, he leans over my shoulder, teasing me about whatever rabbit hole I’ve fallen into.
Today, it’s an article on juice cleanses.
“Health quacks,” he mutters, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
I laugh, the sound escaping me before I can stop it. It’s one of those effortless moments, and for the first time in a long time, I realize just how much I’ve come to appreciate them.
The day slips by faster than I expect, the clock ticking into the early afternoon. One glance at the screen, and my stomach sinks. Only one week until Christmas.
An unwelcome thought rips through me: Jules should be here. She should be part of everything I’d normally be planning. We should be laughing about our favorite traditions, swapping ridiculous gift ideas, baking cookies at midnight in her kitchen.
Instead, there’s an unmistakable void where that joy should be. I try to shake the thought, but it lingers. And before I even realize what I’m doing, my fingers move on their own, opening a new tab and typing her name into the search bar.
It’s the same as always. The same words, the same photos. That bright smile that used to light up a room. I stare, lost in the image of her, unable to look away.
I don’t hear Chase approach until he exhales softly behind me. My breathing stops. I move to close the tab, to hide her away, but it’s too late. I know he’s already seen it.
A warm pressure settles on my shoulder—his hand, just for amoment, before I flinch. He pulls back immediately, but I still feel the echo of his touch. It hangs in the space between us, comforting and unfamiliar all at once.
“Did you know her?” His voice is soft, almost tender, but the words cut straight through me.
