27

Jane

I had been sitting in the café for almost forty minutes before I admitted the obvious truth to myself.

I had no plan… None whatsoever.

I knew this café because Arlyn had mentioned it in passing weeks ago; it was the place Reid sometimes worked when he wanted quiet without isolation.

That alone felt ridiculous now, having to stalk an old friend for the sake of another friend without a plan in mind.

I wrapped my fingers around my cup of coffee, now cold, and stared at him.

Reid Branderton sat three tables away from me, angled slightly toward the window, shoulders hunched in that way men get when they are trying to make themselves smaller than their thoughts. A laptop was open in front of him, untouched for several minutes. His fingers rested on the keyboard, unmoving, while his gaze stayed fixed on nothing in particular.

He looked… distracted and tired.

Not the kind of tiredness that came from lack of sleep. The deeper kind. The kind that settled into bones.

I swallowed.

Arlyn’s face from the night before flashed in my mind… Eyes glossy, voice thin but steady as she talked about loving a man who kept disappearing from her life like she was a mistake he was desperate to undo.

Someone had to say something to him.

Apparently, that someone was me.

I shifted in my seat, heart pounding. Should I just walk over? How do I even start? Oh, hi! I'm here to tell you Arlyn is in love with you… Tell me you love me too, please.

God. That was terrible… pathetic even. I can imagine the look on his face.

I took a breath, then another, rehearsing half-formed sentences in my head. None of them sounded right. All of them felt like stepping into a minefield blindfolded.

I glanced back at Reid again.

That was when I noticed the man watching me.

He sat at the bar counter, broad shoulders, dark hair cropped neatly, one leg hooked around the stool rung. He hadn’t been there when I arrived, or maybe he had and I’d been too busy staring at Reid to notice.

Our eyes met.

His brow furrowed.

I looked away quickly, heat creeping up my neck.

Great. Now I looked suspicious.

I told myself to calm down, to focus on Reid again, but I could feel the man’s attention like pressure against my skin. A minute later, the chair across from me scraped softly.

“Mind if I sit?”

I looked up.

He was closer than I expected. Up close, his eyes were sharp and suspicious, the kind that didn’t miss much. He didn’t smile.

“Uh,” I said, startled. “Actually, I—”

“You’ve been staring at my friend for nearly an hour,” he cut in calmly. “So yeah. I'm sitting here whether you mind or not.”

My stomach dropped.

Friend.

“Your friend?” I repeated.

He tilted his head slightly. “Reid.”

I followed his gaze instinctively, my heart doing an unpleasant somersault.

Oh.

Oh no.

“I… I wasn’t staring,” I lied weakly, hating how unconvincing I sounded.

He leaned back in the chair, arms folding across his chest.

“You’ve checked the door every time someone walks in. You keep glancing at him like you’re waiting for the right moment…. And you look like you’re about to throw up.”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Tried again. “I just—”

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Yet.”

That didn’t help.

“Who are you?” I asked, lifting my chin defensively.

“Alex,” he replied. “And you’re sitting in a café my friend frequents, eyeing him like he owes you money.”

I bristled. “I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“And I don’t appreciate strange women hovering around someone I care about,” he shot back. “So let’s clear the air. Why are you here?”

I hesitated.

The easy option would’ve been to lie. Say I was waiting for someone. Say I liked the coffee. Say literally anything and leave.

But Arlyn’s voice echoed in my head. I can’t keep carrying this alone.

I squared my shoulders. “I’m here because of a friend.”

His expression didn’t soften.

“That’s not an answer.”

“She’s my best friend,” I continued, pulse racing. “And she’s in love with Reid.”

That got his attention.

His posture shifted, alert now. “Excuse me?”

“They kissed,” I said bluntly. “And then he walked away from her like it meant nothing.”

Alex stared at me.

Then he laughed.

Not humorously. More like disbelief edged with irritation.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe,” I snapped, anger flaring. “But it happened. And she’s been hurting ever since.”

He leaned forward. “And you thought confronting him in public was the right move?”

“I thought talking might help,” I said sharply. “Unlike running away.”

His jaw tightened.

“Careful,” he warned. “You don’t know the situation.”

“Neither do you,” I fired back. “But I know what I saw. I know what she felt.”

He studied me closely, eyes narrowing.

“You realize how this sounds,” he said slowly. “A stranger approaches my friend, claims he broke someone’s heart, and expects me to just—what—let you meddle?”

“I’m not meddling,” I said. “I’m advocating.”

“For someone who may not want it.”

“She didn’t ask me to do this,” I admitted. “But she deserves honesty. And so does he.”

Alex was quiet for a long moment.

Then he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “You could get reported for harassment, you know.”

My chest tightened. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m telling you the reality,” he said evenly. “If Reid feels uncomfortable, this could escalate quickly.”

My hands trembled slightly, but I held my ground. “Then report me.”

He blinked.

“I’m serious,” I said. “Because if the roles were reversed and my friend was the one hurting someone you cared about, I’d expect you to fight just as hard.”

Something shifted in his expression then. Not anger. Recognition.

“Tell me about her,” he said quietly.

I exhaled. “Her name’s Arlyn. She’s stubborn and soft-hearted, and she pretends she’s tougher than she is. She didn’t plan to fall for Reid. It scared her. But she did anyway.”

“And Reid?” Alex asked.

I hesitated. “I think he’s terrified of what he feels. So he’s choosing distance instead of damage control.”

Alex leaned back slowly, a thoughtful frown forming. “You know… that actually tracks.”

I frowned. “What?”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Because I’ve been trying to knock some sense into him for weeks.”

I stared. “You have?”

“He’s been drinking. Avoiding everything. Acting like emotion is a disease.” Alex shook his head. “It’s exhausting. I actually know what you're saying to be true.”

My heart thudded. “Then you know he cares.”

Alex met my gaze. “Yeah. I do.”

Something warm sparked between us. Alignment.

“You want them together,” I said slowly.

He nodded. “I want my friend to stop self-destructing.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. “Then I guess we’re on the same side.”

He extended a hand across the table. “Truce?”

I shook it. “Alliance.”

Alex glanced toward Reid, who was now packing up his laptop, oblivious to the conspiracy forming a few feet away.

“We can’t force this,” Alex said. “But we can… push in the right direction.”

I smirked.

“Oh, I’m excellent at nudging.”

He laughed quietly. “Good. Because we’re going to need a plan.”

As Reid stood to leave, I felt a strange surge of hope.

For the first time since everything started unraveling, it felt like maybe we could put the pieces back together.

Not perfectly.

But honestly.

And sometimes, that was enough.