Page 11 of Tides of Discovery
My life had found its rhythm over the past years—the steady cycle of the coffee shop, my circle of friends in town, the quiet apartment that served as my retreat. It wasn’t exciting, perhaps, but it was mine, built with intention and hard work. And having Jack slide so seamlessly back into that life felt right.
Whatever awkwardness lay ahead at Ryan’s birthday dinner, I had this: steady work I was proud of, a hometown that had embraced me, and a friendship that had withstood both time and distance. It was enough.
Wasn’t it?
CHAPTER FOUR
Jack
The rhythmic clack of my keyboard filled the small spare bedroom I’d turned into my home office, each line of code another thread in the protective web I was spinning. Afternoon light slanted through the blinds, cutting golden stripes across my desk and brightening the muted gray walls I’d painted last spring.
I leaned back in my chair, rolled the stiffness from my shoulders, and winced at the series of pops that traveled down my spine. The tension headache that had been threatening all afternoon pressed against my temples with dull insistence. Another security audit completed. Another client’s virtual stronghold shored up against the invisible onslaught of malicious code and prying eyes. A wall of defense that most people would never see or appreciate but that meant the difference between safety and violation. I felt a quiet pride knowing my clients were protected, blissfully unaware of the digital sentinels I’d positioned between them and chaos.
My phone buzzed against the desk. The sharp vibration sliced through the quiet like a blade. I glanced down, expecting a text from Cooper, or maybe an update from my newest client.Instead, a notification from my monitoring software blinked across the screen. The red alert banner caused my stomach to drop before I’d even processed the words.
Unauthorized access detected: thecoffeecove.com
I sat up straighter, heart suddenly pounding against my ribs like it was trying to escape. It had only been two days since I’d installed Cooper’s security overhaul, yet someone was already pushing at his business’s website, testing for weaknesses. The assault struck me as too much of a coincidence, coming so close on the heels of his POS attack—this wasn’t some random bot crawling the web for vulnerabilities, but someone deliberately targeting Cooper’s business. Why would they specifically go after The Coffee Cove? Who was targeting Cooper?
My fingers flew over the keys, adrenaline surging through my veins as I remotely navigated to the live logs. Lines of code scrolled like a digital waterfall across my monitor, but my trained eye zeroed in on the breach attempt. They weren’t just poking at the surface—they were targeting Cooper’s coffee subscription service, where customer payment data and personal information were stored.
It wasn’t just an attack on the shop’s public-facing website. It was a deliberate strike at the heart of Cooper’s business, at a significant source of his sales.
My pulse thundered in my ears as I worked rapidly. My mind raced ahead of my fingers, anticipating the attacker’s next move before they made it. I identified their entry point: a clever back door hidden inside what looked like a routine system ping, the digital equivalent of slipping through a service entrance disguised as a delivery person. I cut them off with ruthless efficiency before they breached the customer database, throwing up additional barriers. Security held. No data accessed. No leaks.
Still, the knot of fear in my stomach didn’t loosen as I sat and stared at the screen long after I’d neutralized the threat.
Someone wasn’t just messing around with a small local business for practice. They were escalating, moving from nuisance to potential theft, from annoyance to deliberate harm.
And Cooper—Cooper with his trusting nature and his belief in the inherent goodness of people—had no idea of the danger circling ever closer to everything he’d built.
I shoved back from my desk and sent my chair rolling into the wall with a dull thud. I bolted downstairs, my boots thudding urgently against the wooden steps. Cold air slapped my face the moment I stepped outside, and the January chill cut through my thin sweater. But I barely felt it as I made a beeline toward The Coffee Cove. Purpose and fear drove me forward.
Inside, the shop was quieter than usual for a Wednesday afternoon. Only a handful of customers gathered around the tables, sipping drinks and tapping away at laptops, cocooned in their own worlds.
Behind the counter, Cooper and Jessica worked in tandem with ease, a choreographed dance of efficiency they’d perfected over the year. Cooper steamed milk, his brow furrowed in concentration, sleeves pushed up to reveal the lean muscles of his forearms that flexed as he worked. Jessica caught sight of me first, her purple-tipped ponytail bobbing as she tilted her head in question. Her dark eyes narrowed at what she saw in my expression.
Cooper noticed me a second later. His smile flashed in greeting, the one that took over his whole face—but in an instant the smile faded, replaced by a concern that made the lines around his eyes deepen.
“Hey, Jack.” His voice carried across the quiet space. “Everything okay?” The question was casual, but I could hear the thread of worry woven through it.
“Can we talk? In your office?” I kept my voice low, trying not to alarm him—or the customers who might be listening.My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, betraying the tension I fought to contain.
Jessica stepped forward without missing a beat, reading the room with her usual perceptiveness. “I’ve got the front, boss.” She nudged Cooper with her elbow, a silent command to go.
Cooper wiped his hands on a towel, nodded, and rounded the counter to meet me. He led the way through the swinging half-door and down the narrow hallway to the back of the shop. His shoulder brushed mine briefly as we navigated the tight space. That momentary contact sent electricity skittering across my skin, inappropriate given the circumstances, but impossible to ignore.
His office was small, functional, and scrupulously organized in a way that spoke volumes about the man himself. A sturdy metal desk dominated the space, its surface clear except for a laptop, a neat stack of invoices, and a framed photo of Cooper and Lily at the beach. A battered filing cabinet stood in the corner. Two chairs squeezed into the remaining square footage, barely leaving room to maneuver.
Cooper closed the door behind us with aclickthat seemed unnaturally loud in the confined space. The air immediately felt thicker, charged with the weight of what I had to tell him.
“What’s going on?” Worry sharpened the edges of his voice and stripped away the easygoing barista persona he wore for customers.
I took a deep breath and steadied myself, trying to find the right balance between gravity and reassurance. “Another attempt at a breach. Fifteen minutes ago.” The words came out more clipped than I intended, my jaw tight with the effort of containing my anger at whoever was targeting him.
His face paled. “What happened?” The question was barely more than a whisper.
“They targeted your subscription service—your customer data.” I sank into the chair opposite his desk, guilt heavy in my chest like a physical weight pressed against my sternum. “I blocked it before they got in. There was no data accessed, and no information leaked. I swear. You’re safe.”
