Page 58 of Tides of Discovery
My lips twitched despite everything.
How?
His reply came instantly.
He installs Java.
I actually snorted out loud, earning a curious look from the woman at the corner table. It was terrible, absolutely terrible, a dad joke that should have made me groan and roll my eyes. Instead, my shoulders relaxed for the first time all morning, and a genuine smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I shook my head at the screen.
That’s awful.
I typed back, but added a laughing emoji.
As I slipped the phone back into my pocket, I realized the tight knot in my chest had given way. Jack somehow knew exactly when I needed a ridiculous joke to cut through the weight of the day, and that meant more to me than he probably knew.
The bell above the door jangled sharply.
I glanced up—and the sight of my friend Landon stalking inside, grim-faced, knocked the air clean out of my lungs. Landon always had a smile, a polished word of greeting, a wink to lighten the mood.
Not this morning.
He crossed to the counter, his hand clenched into a fist at his side. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Cooper, I didn’t want to text this. You needed to hear it in person.”
The back of my neck prickled with dread. “Just tell me.”
He hesitated—one second, maybe two—but it was enough. My stomach twisted so tightly I thought I might be sick.
“It’s HelpReviews,” he whispered. “The Coffee Cove’s been review-bombed.”
I blinked at him, not comprehending. “What?”
“Fake accounts. Dozens of them. All one-star reviews posted overnight.” Landon’s jaw tightened. “Your rating tanked.”
For a beat, the world tilted. I gripped the counter to steady myself.
The hum of the refrigerator faded, and the clatter of cups at the tables blurred into white noise. All I could hear was thewhoosh-whooshof blood in my ears.
“How bad?” I managed to ask, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Landon hesitated again. “Bad,” he said finally. “Really bad. The page looks awful—food poisoning claims, dirty kitchen accusations, rude staff complaints. Enough differentiation in the reviews to make them look credible.”
My throat closed. I turned toward the espresso machine and pretended to check the steam wand just to get my face out of his line of sight.
I couldn’t let him—or anyone else—see how much this gutted me.
Not again.
Not after fighting so hard to drag the shop back from the edge.
“I’m so sorry, darling,” Landon said softly.
I forced a nod, my fingers clutching the counter’s edge until my knuckles ached. “Thanks for telling me.”
He reached across the counter and squeezed my shoulder—a steadying pressure—then stepped back to order a double espresso to go.
My hands shook as I pulled out my phone. I typed with stiff fingers.
Shop’s been review-bombed. Rating crashed overnight. HelpReviews.
