Page 29 of When the Storm Breaks
A kindness I don’t know how to repay.
She pushes the items closer, leaving no room to argue. I sigh, quiet but resigned. She’s not taking my money.
My eyes drift to the extra coffee and pastry.
It’s a clear sign. I’m heading straight to Driftwood.
I stare at the two coffees, a question creeping in that I’d rather ignore. Will Haiyden be there?
I don’t know his schedule, but I do know he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be at the bar the other morning. With the holidays coming, maybe he’s working more. Or maybe just at night.
Either way, they share the space—and if he’s there, I’m not showing up empty-handed again.
I exhale slowly, eyes bouncing between the cups before looking up at Maggie. “Actually, sorry—can I get another one?”
She nods. “Drip?”
“Yes, but I’m paying for this one.”
She gives me a small, knowing smile, but doesn’t argue. A moment later, she hands me the third cup. I nestle the pastry into the center of the tray, then carefully set the coffees around it.
I could leave my car where it is, walk to Driftwood, drop everything off, and go. But taking up a parking space outside Maple’s, a space that could go to a real paying customer, feels like taking somethingfrom Maggie.
And I’ve already taken enough.
I skip the seatbelt for the short drive, the coffee tray balanced on my lap. The gravel lot crunches under my tires as I pull in and park. I grab my bag and the book I tossed in the backseat earlier, then step out, arms full and awkward.
With my eyes fixed on my feet, trying not to stumble, I hear the door swing open before I see it. Chase stands there, holding it with one hand.
Guilt twists in my stomach. He’s started expecting me, hasn’t he? I’ve been showing up uninvited, walking into his mornings like I belong. What if me staying home yesterday was a relief?
I step through the doorway, and Chase lets it close softly behind me. Shifting the tray, I hold it up uncomfortably. “The latte’s on the left, closest to you.”
He nods in thanks, but his expression changes when he sees the extra cup.
“It’s for Haiyden,” I say, quieter than I mean to. Embarrassment prickles at the back of my neck. “I wasn’t sure if he’d be here, and I didn’t want to be rude.”
Chase raises an eyebrow as he sets his cup on the bar.
“You’ve been supplying my caffeine and sugar fix for, what, a week now? I don’t think you could be rude if you tried.”
He laughs lightly, but his voice softens.
“That said, Haiyden usually doesn’t leave his room until, like, noon. I’ll see if he’s up and interested, though.”
“Don’t bug him,” I cut in quickly, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. He blinks, clearly surprised by the urgency.
I turn away before he can say anything else and drift toward my usual spot. The low table, the worn chair, the soft morning sun. It’s all familiar. It’s enough.
I’m content.
But after about thirty minutes of peace, the front door chimes, shattering the quiet.
Haiyden strides in, his expression blank—still a mask I haven’t managed to crack.
“Good morning, Calla. Do you actually have an apartment, or are you planning to move in here?”
His voice has an edge, but there’s something else underneath. Amusement, maybe.
