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LANDON

L andon wiped the counter for the third time in ten minutes, not because it was dirty, but because standing still made him feel like his skin didn’t fit right.

The morning rush had come and gone, leaving the café quiet except for the whir of the old espresso machine and the indie playlist humming softly from the mounted speaker.

Juniper Roast was the kind of place that still smelled like books and cinnamon, tucked into the edge of a nowhere Oregon town most people only passed through on their way to somewhere else.

Which was kind of perfect for Landon.

He liked quiet. Liked being overlooked.

Until she walked in.

He noticed her the second the door chimed.

Not because she was flashy or loud—but because the air changed.

Swore it did. Like the light hit different, or gravity gave her just a little more pull than everyone else.

She moved like she knew where every inch of her body was at all times.

Confident but not cocky, graceful like a dancer who could drop someone with a roundhouse if shit went sideways.

Long white-blond hair caught the sun as she stepped through the door, her ivory skin practically glowing against the faded wood and steam in the café.

She was wearing jeans and a black hoodie, but somehow she looked like a storm in motion.

Then her eyes found his.

Ice-blue. Piercing. Too knowing for a stranger.

Landon nearly dropped the mug he was drying.

“Hey,” he said automatically, mentally kicking himself for sounding like a doofus.

She nodded once, just a flick of her chin, then scanned the café before settling in the farthest booth from the door.

Didn’t order anything.

Just sat like she was waiting for something—or someone.

Weird, he thought, even as he kept glancing her way every other second.

She didn’t check her phone.

Didn’t fidget. Just sat there, spine straight, legs crossed, eyes scanning.

She was watching.

But not him.

Right?

Landon shook it off, returned to wiping the counter.

He wasn’t the kind of guy women like that noticed.

Not that he didn’t have his moments—he knew he was decent-looking.

His ex said his messy auburn hair made him look like a poet in a hoodie, whatever that meant.

And yeah, he had the lean-muscle thing going for him from years of hiking the trails behind his aunt’s place.

But mostly, he kept his head down.

Played it safe.

Too many weird dreams. Too many nights waking up with claw marks on his sheets he couldn’t explain.

And sometimes… he swore the trees whispered his name.

Yeah. He didn’t need complications.

And yet, there she was—ice queen in black, acting like she’d walked straight out of one of his dreams.

He blinked.

And she was gone.

No sound, no goodbye, no cup on the table.

Just the door swaying shut behind her.

Later that afternoon, he was at campus—if you could call it that.

More like a cluster of aging buildings squatting along the southern edge of town.

Oregon Lakeside Community College wasn’t fancy, but it had what he needed.

A few night classes, some professors who gave a damn, and a place he could blend in.

Landon adjusted his canvas bag on his shoulder and glanced down at the enrollment form he’d filled out half a dozen times over the past year.

Final semester. Just two gen-eds left and that environmental science elective he’d been putting off.

“Landon Graves?” a voice said behind him.

He turned and there she was again.

Same hoodie. Same piercing gaze.

Same slow saunter that somehow felt more deliberate than casual.

He blinked. “Uh. Yeah. That’s me.”

She smiled, soft and short, like it was something she didn’t give out often.

“Figured it was. You work at Juniper Roast, right?”

His guard went up just a tick.

“Yeah… I do. You… in town visiting someone?”

She shook her head.

“Nah. I live here. Starting classes to see which degree will hold up. I’m in environmental science this term.”

Landon stared.

“Seriously?”

“What?” She tilted her head, a lock of white-blond hair sliding over her shoulder.

“You don’t think I care about trees?”

“I mean…” he scratched the back of his neck.

“You look more like someone who teaches krav maga than recycles.”

She laughed, a short, genuine sound that lit her whole face for a second.

“Not the worst first impression I’ve made.”

He chuckled, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Not the best either.”

“Touché.”

They stood there for a moment, the midafternoon sun cutting golden angles across the sidewalk between them.

“I’m Sonya,” she said finally, offering a hand.

Landon took it. Her grip was firm, warm.

Not dainty like he half-expected.

“Landon.”

“I know.” Her eyes sparkled, like she liked keeping him off balance.

“So…” he said slowly, “you live here? For how long?”

Sonya shrugged.

“Forever it feels like. I don’t mind it though. Feels like somewhere I could breathe. You?”

“My family is from this area. I used to visit a bit when I was younger, but now I just couldn’t get it out of my head. Wanted to come back.” he said.

“My aunt’s place is just outside of town, up in the hills. It’s quiet. Good hiking. Plus I only had a few classes left to finish my degree, figured I’d knock it out here.”

“What’s your major?”

“Ecology. Wildlife Conservation, technically.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Not that it pays well, but… I dunno. Feels right.”

She studied him for a beat too long.

“You’re not what I expected.”

He lifted a brow.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

She just smiled again and started walking toward the admin building.

“I’ll let you figure that out.”

He watched her go, lips parting slightly in disbelief.

Okay. What the hell was that?

She was strange. Gorgeous.

And definitely hiding something.

But there was something else too.

A pull in his gut. A flicker of recognition that made no damn sense.

Like he’d seen her in a dream.

Or a memory that didn’t belong to him.

As the wind blew through the trees above the sidewalk, he could’ve sworn he heard it again.

That whisper.

Not words, exactly.

Just a feeling that she’s going to change everything.