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Chapter Eleven

Emma

T he espresso machine hisses like it’s as fed up with me as I am with myself.

I glance down at the cup in my hand, realizing I’ve steamed the milk way past its usual creamy texture. Great. Another one ruined.

I dump it out, start over, and try to focus on the order in front of me.

Usually, I’m in my element behind this counter. The smell of freshly ground beans, the comforting hum of the grinder, the routine of pouring shots…

It all keeps my mind calm.

Today, though? I’m a disaster zone.

It’s been like this all day. Ever since Logan kissed me last night outside the shop.

Okay, maybe it’s not just the kiss. Maybe it’s the way his lips tasted faintly of beer and winter air, the way his hands felt steady and warm on my waist.

Or maybe it’s how he looked at me afterward.

I grab another milk jug, try to focus. Flat white. One sugar. Not hard, Emma. But my hands are still shaking, and I almost drop the jug entirely.

“Everything okay back there?” Mr. Harrow calls from the other side of the counter, eyebrows raised.

I give him my brightest smile and hope it covers the fact that I’m barely functioning today.

“Just... a busy morning, you know?”

He gives me a grin. “Well, whatever’s got you distracted, make sure it’s worth it.”

Oh, it definitely is.

As if summoned by my mental breakdown, Lucy breezes in, still in her Icehawks work polo, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She makes a beeline for her usual stool at the counter, drops her bag, and gives me one of those knowing smirks that tells me she’s already onto me.

“Hey,” I start, trying to sound casual. “Have you heard from Connor today? I just... was wondering if he mentioned anything about practice?”

Lucy arches a brow, clearly not buying my sudden interest in hockey schedules. “Connor’s probably still at the rink. Why?”

“No reason,” I mutter, totally unconvincing.

“Uh-huh.” She watches me as I pull another shot, this time managing not to overfill the cup. “You look like you’re about to combust. Something happen?”

I shrug, too busy trying not to burn myself with the milk frother to meet her eyes. “Busy day. Lots of orders.”

Lucy leans on the counter, chin in her hands. “Right. Busy . That’s why you’re making heart-shaped foam patterns without even trying?”

I glance down. The latte in front of me has a perfectly formed heart, and I can’t even blame it on artistic effort.

It just... happened.

Lucy’s grin spreads wider. “Spill. Now.”

“There’s nothing to spill!” I say too quickly, fumbling with the next order.

She cocks her head, examining me like I’m a particularly confusing puzzle. “Emma, you’re glowing. Like, borderline radioactive. You don’t usually glow. You just... lightly shimmer. What gives?”

I open my mouth to brush it off, but one look at Lucy’s face and the whole story comes rushing out. “It was just dinner. We went to Ridgeview. Had a burger. That’s it.”

Lucy narrows her eyes. “Uh-huh. And?”

I can feel the blush spreading up my neck. “And... we might have kissed.”

Her eyes widen, and she nearly falls off the stool. “Oh my God! You kissed Logan Kane?! Grumpy, emotionally constipated Logan Kane?”

“It wasn’t just a kiss,” I admit, my voice dropping to a whisper. “It was... perfect. He tasted… good. And like, he was… gentle. And then... he just looked at me like I was the only person in the world.”

I catch myself letting go of the long, dreamy sigh that makes Lucy let out a squeal and clap her hands like a circus chihuahua. A few customers glance our way and I paste a casual smile across my face.

“You’re falling for him!” Lucy announces.

“I am not!” I protest.

“Oh, please. You so are.”

I can’t help but smile, even as my heart pounds in my chest. “It was just one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Lucy snorts. “One kiss from Logan Kane means everything. That man doesn’t just kiss people. He doesn’t even hug people. I’ve seen him check a guy through the boards just for patting his shoulder.”

I giggle, thinking about how he looks so fierce on the ice, but then is so tender last night. “He just... makes me feel safe. And wanted. And... special.”

Lucy’s expression softens. “That’s because you are. And Logan’s finally smart enough to realize it.”

The bell over the door chimes, and I glance up to see Mrs. Jenkins come in, her usual afternoon order already in my head.

“I’ll take my usual, dear,” she says with a wink.

I get to work on her drink, and Lucy leans closer, her voice dropping. “So... when’s the next date?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, keeping my hands busy. “I mean, he texted earlier, but it wasn’t... specific.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Girl, you kissed. That means next time, you go for broke.”

“Me? broke?” I squeak. "I'm not even sure what that means."

“Yes, you do. It’s the twenty-first century. You can totally initiate sex.”

Before I can catch my jaw from dropping, the bell chimes again, and Clara steps in, clutching a stack of papers, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

She glances around, hesitating at the door before making her way to the counter. Something about the way she’s clutching those papers makes my stomach clench.

“Emma?" Clara says sheepishly. "Could we... could we talk privately?”

My heart sinks, worry crashing over me like cold water. “Um, yeah. Of course. Let’s go to the back.”

I shoot Lucy a glance, and she just mouths, I’ll keep the shop covered.

I hand Mrs. Jenkins her coffee as Clara gives Lucy a grateful nod before following me into the kitchen.

The kitchen smells like burnt sugar and defeat when we step inside.

I glance at the tray of cupcakes I’d baked thrown together in a Logan-induced haze this morning. They're all charred on the edges, frosting melted. A complete mess.

I had this grand idea of baking something special to celebrate the Fire Department festival’s success.

Instead, I’ve created what lo0k like burnt black hockey pucks with sprinkles.

I shove the tray to the back of the counter, hoping Clara of all people won't notice.

She follows me in, her usual composed presence just a bit off. I motion to the little round table by the window, offering her a seat as she holds the papers close to her chest.

Clara takes it, exhaling like she’s been holding her breath for hours.

I sit opposite her, my hands unconsciously wiping flour dust from the counter. “Clara, are you okay? You look... flustered.”

She gives me a weak smile. “That obvious, huh?”

I nod, not trusting my voice to say more without pressing. Clara’s always been the picture of calm and control, the one who knows how to smooth things over with a smile and a freshly baked lemon tart.

Seeing her this frazzled makes my heart pinch with worry.

She opens her mouth and takes a deep breath. “Emma... I wanted to tell you this before anyone else found out. I just... I didn’t know how.”

“Tell me what?”

“I’m selling Summit Café.”

I blink, sure I’ve misheard. “Wait... what?”

Clara’s smile is soft, but there’s a sadness threaded through it. “I know. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. But it’s time.”

“But... why?” My voice comes out more pleading than I mean it to. “You’ve put so much into Summit. It’s your life.”

She glances out the window, watching the snow drift lazily down onto the street. “It has been. For fifteen years. And I love it. But sometimes... sometimes you need to let go. Before you forget how to change.”

A lump rises in my throat. “But... it’s Summit . It’s the place everyone goes. You can’t just... not be there.”

Clara chuckles lightly. “That’s part of the problem. I’ve become... too much a part of it. I love Iron Ridge, but it feels like I’m anchored here, and I don’t know how to break free. I just need something new.”

Her words hit me harder than I expect.

I know what it feels like to be stuck, to think that maybe I’ll never be more than the girl running from her mother’s dream.

But Clara?

She’s the queen of Iron Ridge. I can’t imagine this place without her café.

“What will you do?” I ask, my voice small.

She shrugs. “I'm going to take some time out. Maybe travel. Visit my sister in London.”

The corners of my mouth lift, but it’s bittersweet. “I just… I can't believe this. I thought Summit was everything to you.”

“It was. But sometimes, Emma... sometimes what you love becomes a cage. I don’t want to feel trapped here. Not when I have a chance to do something different.”

Her words hit me in a place I didn’t even know was sore. How long have I been fighting to prove Chapter & Grind is more than just a temporary experiment? Prove to myself that it’s not just me playing at being a business owner?

The conflicting emotions are making me dizzy. Relief that my biggest competition is leaving. Guilt for feeling that way. Panic at the thought that if Summit’s not sustainable, maybe Chapter & Grind isn’t either.

Clara reaches across the table, squeezing my hand.

“Emma, you have something special here. You know that, right? People love this place because of you. Summit... it’s been a fixture because of me.

But people can grow to love new things. I want you to keep pushing forward.

This town needs good coffee. They need you. ”

I swallow down the lump in my throat, squeezing her hand back. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

Clara’s eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen them. “Just promise me you won’t doubt yourself. You’ve got the heart for this, Emma. More than I ever did.”

My eyes sting, and I force a smile. “I don’t know about that. You’re kind of a legend.”

Clara’s laughter is warmer this time, more genuine. “Legends retire, too, you know. Besides, I think it’s your turn to be the legend now.”

She gives my hand one final squeeze before standing, gathering the papers to her chest.

“I just wanted you to hear it from me first,” she says softly.