Chapter Seven
Shelly
The lunch shift slowed to a gentle crawl. Plates clinked softly in the back, and the rain tapped an easy rhythm on the windows. Shelly moved between tables, topping off waters, collecting napkins, her focus tightly folded inward.
She liked this time of day. It was the only time when staying out of the kitchen was bearable. It was quiet enough to breathe, but not quiet enough to think too much.
Then the bell above the door rang.
Something shifted in the air—something heavy.
She didn’t look up immediately.
She felt him first.
The kind of presence that made people look without knowing why.
The kind that settled in the corners of your instincts like roots.
When she finally glanced toward the door, the man was already standing inside—broad shoulders, long coat darkened by rain, eyes that flickering calmly across the room before settling on her. Not like a man noticing a woman.
Not like a predator noticing a prey.
Like a cub recognizing its mother.
He smiled—not flirtatious. Gentle. Careful.
> “Hope I’m not too late for food?”
> “Kitchen’s still open,” she said, voice steady even though her pulse wasn’t.
He nodded once and made his way to a booth. He didn’t watch her the way most men did. There was no heat, no calculation. Just an odd sort of… respect.
> “He’s not from around here,” Lucy whispered from over the counter. “You okay?”
> “Fine.” She turned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
A beat passed.
> “No reason,” her friend said quickly. “He just feels... intense. That’s all.”
She brought the glass to his table. He thanked her with a quiet warmth that made something behind her ribs ache. Like recognition—but not hers.
> “You’ve got a stillness about you,” he said, not looking up. “Like old trees.”
> “Is that a compliment?”
> “Yes, ma’am,” he said without hesitation.
Ma’am.
She blinked. Not because of the word. But because of the way he’d said it.
Like she was older than him. Not in years. In something else.
She walked away, careful not to look back, even though everything in her wanted to.
Behind her, the man didn’t move. Just sat there like someone who had wandered too close to a fire he didn’t mean to find.