Madison stood behind the counter, pretending to read the day's orders. But her eyes kept drifting toward Ethan, who now had a usual seat back corner, near the window.
It wasn't just that he was handsome, though he was. It was the way he looked at the world, quiet and sharp, like he was trying to solve a puzzle no one else saw.
Willow noticed too. One morning, as they prepped pastries in the small kitchen, Willow nudged Madison with her elbow.
"You've got a regular who doesn't just come for the coffee," Willow teased.
"Don't start," Madison warned, but her cheeks warmed.
Later that day, a new customer came in Savannah Cole . Madison didn't know her yet, didn't recognize her cool smile or the quiet tension that suddenly flickered in Ethan's posture when she walked past him.
Savannah ordered tea, glancing casually around the café. Her gaze landed on Ethan briefly, and Madison didn't miss the flicker of something unspoken in his expression.
Madison filed it away. Another puzzle piece she wasn't ready to fit together yet.
One slow afternoon, with rain pattering gently against the windows, Ethan lingered after most customers had left. Madison moved to wipe down his table but paused.
"You always drink black coffee. You ever try anything else?" she asked casually.
Ethan's mouth quirked. "Habit. Black's simpler."
"Simpler doesn't always mean better." Madison reached for a clean cup, pouring him a sample of the café's lavender honey blend. "Try it."
Their fingers brushed again as he accepted the cup. This time, Ethan didn't pull away so quickly.
He tasted it, pausing thoughtfully. "Not bad."
Madison smiled. "Not bad? That's high praise coming from you."
Ethan's eyes softened slightly. "You like working here?"
Madison glanced around, letting her gaze settle on the rows of books, the cozy tables, the quiet warmth.
"It's more than work. It's home."
That word seemed to catch Ethan off guard. His gaze flickered toward the window again, toward Charleston's quiet streets.
Before Madison could ask more, the bell above the door jingled. Savannah had returned.
Her entrance changed everything. The air in the café seemed to tighten.
Savannah walked up to the counter, her eyes cool. "Madison, is it? Can I get a coffee?"
"Of course." Madison worked quickly, glancing at Ethan. His posture was stiffer now, his usual calm shadowed by something else.
Savannah took her coffee and moved toward Ethan without hesitation.
Madison watched from behind the counter, her stomach knotting. Whatever history Savannah and Ethan shared, it wasn't just casual.
Later, after Savannah left, Madison approached Ethan as he stood by the bookshelves.
"Friend of yours?" she asked lightly.
Ethan didn't answer for a long moment. Finally, he said quietly, "Not exactly."
Madison wanted to ask more. But she held back. For now.
That night, as she closed up the café, Madison stood by Ethan's usual window seat, her fingers brushing the cool glass. And for the first time, she felt a crack in her usual calm a quiet ripple of something deeper.
The following morning, Madison noticed Ethan waiting by the door before she opened. His coat dusted with rain again, his expression unreadable.
She let him in before flipping the sign. "You're early."
"Couldn't sleep." His voice was rougher than usual.
Madison poured his coffee, setting it on the counter. "Savannah?"
Ethan didn't deny it. He just took his cup, fingers tight around the handle.
Madison leaned against the counter, watching him. "You don't have to tell me. But if you want to... I'll listen."
Ethan's gaze met hers. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly: "Maybe another time."
Madison nodded. She understood walls how hard they could be to lower.
As the café filled with soft morning light, the two of them shared a silence that wasn't awkward. It was something else entirely: a quiet echo of things unspoken, waiting for the right moment to be heard.