Page 79 of Tides of Discovery
I wiped down the counter, and the damp cloth collected spills and sugar crystals. Sundays were typically my favorite workdays—busy enough to be profitable but relaxed enough to enjoy the routine of the shop, to savor the small interactions with regulars and the satisfaction of a well-made espresso shot.
But I couldn’t put my finger on what was different that Sunday.
Maybe it was the unusual congregation of my friends scattered throughout the shop. Garrett and Ethan occupied a table by the window. Garrett’s deputy sheriff’s uniform was exchanged for civilian clothes, but his posture was still unmistakably alert as he held Ethan’s hand and spoke in low tones.
Mason and Caleb lounged on stools at the bar against the wall, heads bent together in a conspiratorial whisper that cut off abruptly when I looked their way. Caleb offered an overly enthusiastic wave that made my suspicion spike.
Landon sat with his boyfriend, Matt, at a table. Landon nursed a double espresso and checked his watch every thirty seconds with the nervous energy of someone waiting for an overdue train.
My brother, Ryan, had claimed a four-top near the back, with my six-year-old niece, Lily, beside him. Her legs swung beneath her chair as she concentrated on what appeared to be a very important coloring project, her tongue caught between her teeth in fierce concentration.
Friends and family filled almost every chair.
“They’ve been here for almost an hour,” Jessica murmured beside me, startling me from my observations as she restocked the display case with fresh pastries. Her eyes, lined with perfect winged eyeliner despite her early start, darted meaningfully around the room. “All of them. Arrived within ten minutes of each other.”
“Weird.” A prickle of unease traveled up my spine. “Did they say why?”
Jessica shrugged, the movement too casual in a way that immediately set off alarm bells. “Nope. Just ordered their usuals and spread out like they’re casing the joint for a heist.”
I laughed, but the sound felt hollow. “Great. Now I’m paranoid.”
“Paranoid about what?” Jessica asked innocently, but the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
“You know something,” I accused, and pointed the cleaning cloth at her like a weapon.
She arranged her features into a mask of wounded dignity. “I’m just doing my job, boss. Speaking of which, I should probably man the register.” She retreated with suspicious haste and left me standing there with narrowed eyes and mounting curiosity.
I was about to follow her—to demand answers with the authority of someone who signed her paychecks—when the bell above the door jingled with frantic energy. Jack burst into the shop like a hurricane making landfall, his usually confident stride harried and urgent, laptop clutched to his chest like a lifeline. His honey-brown hair was windswept, cheeks flushed with exertion, his eyes wide with panic.
My heart dropped, and my stomach clenched with immediate anxiety. After everything we went through last year—the security breaches, the constant vigilance, the arrest—that look on Jack’s face could only mean one thing. Trouble.
“Cooper!” he called out. He spotted me behind the counter. “We have a problem. The Coffee Cove’s website—it’s been hacked.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. I dropped the cloth onto the counter. “How?” Horror crawled up my throat. “Shaw is behind bars.” The name still tasted bitter on my tongue.
Jack’s expression was grim, his jaw set in that determined way I recognized meant he was in full cybersecurity-expert mode. “Come and see,” he said, already moving toward the one empty table near the center of the room. He set his laptop down and flipped it open.
I made my way around the counter, vaguely aware that the shop had fallen silent, all background conversations suspended, the only sound the soft folk music playing from the speakers overhead. My palms turned clammy. My heartbeat accelerated with each step. A hack meant exposure, vulnerability—all the things Jack had worked so hard to protect us from.
Jack pulled out a chair, and the legs scraped against the hardwood floor. “Sit,” he instructed, his voice tight with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher.
I sank into the seat and braced myself for the worst: compromised customer data, malicious code, threats against thebusiness I’d built. Jack stood at my side and positioned the laptop in front of me. The screen glowed brightly.
What I saw made no sense.
The Coffee Cove’s homepage had been completely transformed. Instead of our usual clean layout with the menu and hours prominently displayed, photographs filled the screen—dozens of them, arranged in a collage that spanned years. My breath caught as recognition dawned like a punch to my gut.
There were Jack and me at the farmers’ market six months ago, laughing over something—I couldn’t remember what now. Us at the Valentine’s Day dance, when our temporary relationship could have ended, my eyes locked on his with an emotion that had been anything but a conclusion. A candid shot from college, the two of us sprawled on my dorm room floor surrounded by textbooks, much younger but unmistakably us.
Photos from birthdays and holidays, from casual moments and milestone celebrations—a visual timeline of our lives intersecting over the past seventeen years. Some I recognized; others I had no memory of. But most shocking of all was the text emblazoned across the center of the screen in a font that matched The Coffee Cove’s logo perfectly.
Will you marry me, Cooper McKay?
Below the question were two buttons, simple but impossible to miss: “Yes” and “Yes.”
My mind went completely, utterly blank. The world narrowed to the screen in front of me. Everything else—the shop, the friends whose presence suddenly made sense, the strange tension in the air—faded to insignificance. My heart slammed against my ribs with such force I was certain it would bruise. Blood rushed in my ears like ocean waves.
“Jack,” I whispered, his name barely audible even to me. I turned to look at him. He watched me with an intensity that stolewhat little breath I had left, his eyes dark with vulnerability and something that looked remarkably like fear.
