Chapter Five

Drevin never explains why he pulled away from me.

He stays for dinner.

He jokes with Callum.

Argues with Dad about whether his truck needs new brake pads.

Steals three roasted potatoes off my plate.

And acts so completely normal that by the time he leaves, I almost convince myself the moment in the kitchen didn’t happen.

Almost.

But I keep remembering how fast he jerked away from me.

Like touching me was something he had to stop himself from doing.

By the next afternoon, I’m still thinking about it.

Which is why I accidentally pour oat milk into a regular latte.

“Camille.”

I look down.

Then at the carton in my hand.

“Damn it.”

Tessa leans against the counter beside me.

“That’s twice today.”

“I’m distracted.”

“No kidding.”

I dump the drink into the sink and start over.

Silverpine Café is busy enough that I should be able to stop thinking.

Usually, work is good for that.

There’s always something to do.

Espresso shots to pull.

Tables to wipe.

Orders to remember.

June calling from the kitchen that someone needs to take the muffins out before she burns the building down.

But apparently my brain has decided replaying every weird thing Drevin has done this week is more important.

He texted me this morning.

You alive?

That was it.

No explanation.

No mention of last night.

I sent back:

Unfortunately.

He replied with a skull emoji.

Normal.

Everything is apparently normal.

Except it isn’t.

The bell above the café door jingles.

I glance up automatically.

And immediately wish I hadn’t.

Felicity Greenley walks in with two girls behind her.

Of course she does.

Felicity is beautiful in the kind of effortless way that probably takes an hour to accomplish.

Long blonde hair.

Perfect makeup.

Expensive boots that have never seen actual mud despite the fact that we live in the mountains.

She notices me almost immediately.

Her smile warms.

Too much.

“Camille. Hi.”

“Felicity.”

Tessa glances between us.

“I’m going to check the back.”

Coward.

Felicity steps up to the register.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good.”

“That’s good.”

She says it like she means it.

That’s what makes Felicity dangerous.

She rarely says anything openly awful.

Not anymore.

She learned a long time ago that concern works better.

A sympathetic smile.

A soft voice.

A question that sounds harmless until you realize where it landed.

Her friends step up behind her.

“What can I get you?”

“Vanilla cold brew. Extra vanilla, light ice.”

I ring it in.

One friend orders an iced chai.

The other gets a refresher.

Felicity watches me while I tap at the screen.

“You’re turning eighteen next week, right?”

“Seven days.”

Her smile grows.

“That’s exciting.”

“Yeah.”

“I remember being terrified before mine.”

“Were you?”

“Oh, completely.”

She laughs lightly.

“I kept thinking everyone would expect me to be different afterward.”

I look up.

“Did they?”

“Some people did.”

Her tone stays easy.

“People get weird about shifts. Like you wake up one morning and suddenly you’re supposed to know exactly who you are.”

For a second, I’m caught off guard.

That is almost… nice.

Then Felicity adds, “Especially when everyone already has an idea of who you’re supposed to be.”

There it is.

Small.

Barely there.

I keep my expression neutral.

“Your total is sixteen forty.”

She hands me her card.

As I run it, her gaze drops briefly toward the counter.

“You still hang out with Drevin a lot?”

My fingers pause for half a second.

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.”

I glance at her.

She smiles.

Genuinely, if I didn’t know her.

“You two have always been close.”

“We have.”

“I used to think you’d eventually get sick of each other.”

One of her friends laughs softly.

Felicity does too.

Like it’s a joke.

“Apparently not,” I say.

“Apparently not.”

I hand back her card.

She slips it into her wallet.

Then, almost casually, she says, “He’s been busy lately, though, hasn’t he?”

My stomach tightens.

There is no reason it should.

Felicity doesn’t sound smug.

If anything, she sounds conversational.

“Everybody’s busy.”

“True.”

Her eyes meet mine.

“I only asked because I saw him a couple times this week and he mentioned having a lot going on.”

A couple times.

I hate how quickly my brain grabs onto that.

Where?

Why?

Doing what?

I refuse to ask.

“That sounds like him.”

“Mm.”

She nods, then steps aside so I can start the drinks.

For a moment, I think the conversation is over.

Then she says, “It must be kind of strange.”

I look back.

“What?”

“Your birthday.”

Again, harmless.

Probably.

She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“With the mate thing.”

My shoulders tense.

“What about it?”

“Nothing bad.”

She smiles quickly.

“I just mean… you and Drevin have always been attached at the hip.”

One of her friends studies the pastry case very intently.

Felicity continues.

“If you find your mate, everything changes, doesn’t it?”

The milk pitcher in my hand suddenly feels too cold.

“Maybe.”

“I guess it depends on the mate.”

“Guess so.”

She tilts her head.

“I wonder if that’s what he’s thinking about.”

I look at her.

Felicity blinks.

“Drevin.”

“I know who you meant.”

“Sorry.”

Her expression turns apologetic.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I just figured you two probably talked about that kind of stuff.”

We haven’t.

Not really.

And she knows by my silence that she hit something.

Not because she smiles.

She doesn’t.

That would be too obvious.

Instead, she looks almost embarrassed.

Like she regrets bringing it up.

Which somehow makes it worse.

I turn back to the drinks.

“We talk about plenty.”

“I’m sure.”

Soft.

Easy.

Completely reasonable.

I pour her cold brew over ice.

Behind me, one of her friends changes the subject.

Something about a party this weekend.

Felicity answers normally.

No victory in her voice.

No final jab.

Nothing I could repeat later without sounding paranoid.

That’s her real talent.

She doesn’t shove you.

She just plants something in your head and lets you push yourself.

I finish the drinks and set them on the counter.

“Vanilla cold brew.”

Felicity takes it.

“Thanks.”

“Have a good day.”

“You too.”

She hesitates.

Then gives me a small smile.

“And seriously, I hope your shift goes well.”

I almost laugh.

Because the worst part is that maybe she means that too.

People are easier when they’re cruel all the time.

Felicity isn’t.

That’s what makes her so good at it.

She turns and walks toward the door with her friends.

Tessa reappears from the back.

“Was she being nice?”

I keep watching Felicity.

“I have no idea.”

“That feels worse.”

“Exactly.”

The door opens.

Felicity steps outside.

Then stops.

My attention catches on the truck parked across the street.

Dark gray.

Familiar.

Drevin is leaning against the driver’s door.

My stomach drops.

Felicity walks over like seeing him there isn’t unusual.

Maybe it isn’t.

Drevin says something.

She laughs.

Then she reaches up and brushes something from the front of his shirt.

A piece of lint, maybe.

Her fingers barely touch him.

Drevin doesn’t move away.

Nothing about it should matter.

Nothing about it is even inappropriate.

Then Felicity glances toward the café.

Our eyes meet through the window.

For just a second.

Her expression doesn’t change.

She simply turns back to Drevin and keeps talking.

And I realize I have absolutely no idea how often she sees him when I’m not around.