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Chapter Nineteen

Emma

T he morning light slants through the cabin windows as Logan and I toss our weekend bags into the back of his truck. The mountains look softer in the early sun, like a watercolor painting that hasn't quite dried.

"You sure you got everything?" Cole calls from the porch, nursing what has to be his fifth cup of coffee after way too many beers yesterday. "Logan's not known for his attention to detail."

"Says the guy who once forgot his skates for practice," Logan mutters, checking the truck bed one more time.

I laugh, zipping up my duffel. "I think we're good. Thanks for letting me crash your boys' weekend."

Nate steps down from the porch, coffee mug in hand.

"You didn't crash anything. You made it better." He gives Logan a pointed look. "She keeps you sane, man. Don't screw it up."

"Wasn't planning on it," Logan says, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

Cole bounds over, all energy despite the early hour. "Emma, I hope you know you're officially part of the Kane family dysfunction now. That means you're legally required to tell Logan when he's being an ass."

"Pretty sure I was already doing that," I grin.

"Perfect. You'll fit right in." Cole pulls me into a bear hug that smells like bacon and eggs. "Take care of our boy, yeah? And make sure he calls more than twice this season."

"I will." I squeeze him back, surprised by how much I'm going to miss this place. Miss them.

Nate shakes Logan's hand, but it turns into a brief, back-slapping hug. "Be happy, brother. You deserve it."

Logan's throat works as he swallows. "Thanks guys. You made this a hell of a lot easier than I thought it was going to be."

"Don't get all emotional on us now," Cole teases, but his voice is softer than usual. "You've got a season to win and a woman to impress."

We pile into Logan's truck and twenty minutes down the mountain road, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. Grandpa Walt's name flashes on the screen.

"Put it on speaker," Logan says, glancing over. "I want to hear how badly they burned down your shop."

I roll my eyes but connect the call, Grandpa Walt's warm voice filling the truck cab.

"Emma-bean! How's my favorite granddaughter?"

"Good. How did you survive the weekend?"

Walt chuckles. "Well, we did it, Emma-bean. Barely. That Lucy's got energy like a hummingbird on espresso, and that Ethan boy tried to reorganize your entire tea section. Twice."

"Dear God. Please tell me he didn't—"

"Oh, he did. Alphabetical order, then by caffeine content, then by color. I finally had to distract him with inventory counts."

Logan snorts beside me. "Sounds like typical withdrawal behavior."

"Is that the boyfriend?" Walt asks. "Tell him I said hello and that he needs to bring you by for dinner this week. I want to hear all about this fishing trip."

My cheeks warm. "We will, Grandpa. Everything else okay?"

There's a pause, just long enough to make my stomach clench.

"Well, yes. Thought you should know that your mother stopped by yesterday afternoon."

I snap my neck to Logan who's creased brows reflect a mirror image of my own.

"Mom? At the café?"

"Mmm-hmm. Seemed surprised you weren't there. Asked how business was, looked around for a bit. Didn't buy anything, though."

My jaw tightens. In three years of running Chapter & Grind, my mother has visited exactly twice. But she stops by the one weekend I'm gone? Yeah, that's pretty typical of my mother.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, fighting the immediate tension that knots my shoulders.

"Did she say why she was there, Grandpa?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.

"Not really. Just poked around, asked about your sales, made a comment about how many romance novels you stock."

Of course she did.

Logan's warm hand slides over mine, his thumb brushing my knuckles.

"It's probably because of what happened at Melanie's dinner," I tell Grandpa Walt, meeting Logan's questioning gaze. "We had a bit of a... moment. I stood up to her about the café. And about Logan."

"Good for you," Grandpa says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "About time."

"Yeah, well. I guess this is her way of checking if I meant what I said."

Mom showing up at my café feels like classic Cynthia Carter. Appearing when I'm not there so she can assess without having to actually engage. After years of dismissing my business, her sudden interest feels both vindicating and suspicious.

"She looked at your display case for a long time," Grandpa adds. "The one with all your coffee blends and those fancy labels you designed."

Logan squeezes my hand. "She's probably impressed but too stubborn to admit it."

"Maybe," I say, but the knot in my stomach says otherwise. "Or she's looking for proof that I'm failing so she can say 'I told you so.'"

"Emma-bean," Grandpa's voice softens. "Your mother is... complicated. But that dinner might have been the first time she's ever had to really see you. Give her time."

I nod, even though he can't see me. "Thanks for handling her, Grandpa. Did she say anything else?"

"Just asked if I thought you were... happy. With all this." Walt's voice is careful, like he's trying not to step in something.

Logan's hand finds my thigh, squeezing me in a way that's more comforting than I expect.

"What did you tell her?" I ask.

"I told her the truth. That you're the happiest I've ever seen you. And that maybe she should try talking to you directly instead of skulking around when you're not here."

I can't help but smile. "Grandpa Walt, you didn't..."

"Oh, I did. Someone had to. Anyway, everything's fine here. You two enjoy the rest of your drive. And Logan? Take care of my girl."

Logan's voice is warm when he responds. "Always, sir."

After we hang up, silence settles between us. I stare out the window, watching pines blur past.

"You okay?" Logan asks quietly.

I shrug. "It's just... typical. She never comes when I'm there. Always finds some excuse. But the minute I'm gone..."

"Maybe she's trying," he offers.

"Maybe. Or maybe she's just checking to see if I've finally given up on my 'little coffee phase.'"

Logan's jaw tightens. "It's not a phase, Em. She'll see that one day."

I lean across the console and kiss his cheek. "I know. And having you believe in it... in me... it means everything."

He catches my hand, bringing it to his lips. "Always, baby. No matter what."

The familiar skyline of Iron Ridge comes into view, and my stomach flutters with a mixture of excitement and nerves. Arena Day is less than a week away. Everything I've worked for comes down to one event.

"You ready for this?" Logan asks, as if reading my thoughts. "Back in the real world?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." I squeeze his fingers. "What about you? Still worried about the trade talk?"

His shoulders tense slightly. "Trying not to think about it. Whatever happens, happens. I can't control it."

"But you can control how we handle it," I say softly. "Together."

He lifts our joined hands and presses a kiss to my knuckles. "Of course. Together."

The bell above Chapter & Grind's door feels extra cheerful when we walk in. The afternoon sun streams through the windows, making everything warm and glowing.

Maybe it's because I've been away for a few nights, but the whole place looks like a storybook illustration. And it smells like home. Coffee and books and the faint hint of cinnamon from yesterday's muffins.

But as I walk through my café, I notice things. Small things that show how well it ran without me.

Every table is clean. The books are perfectly aligned on the shelves. The display case is full of pastries that actually look professional, probably from Summit Café since Ethan can't bake to save his life.

It's wonderful. It's exactly what I hoped to see. It shows me that perhaps I can do all of this. With the right help, even if I win the space at the arena, I can manage two shops at once. My business can grow.

So why does my chest feel tight?

I find Lucy's notes next to the register—detailed logs of every odd order, every customer comment, every small victory. Ethan's attempted tea organization is... creative. He's grouped everything by color, which means the Earl Grey is next to the Chamomile because they're both in beige boxes.

I step behind the counter and pull my phone out to text Lucy and say thanks. When I glance at the screen, I see that Sophia's left a voicemail about Arena Day logistics. When I play it back, her voice is excited, professional, completely confident that I'll deliver something amazing.

No pressure or anything.

Pacing as I type the message to Lucy, I glance across the street, and my heart stops.

Summit Café has a huge SOLD sign in the front window.

"Holy shit," I breathe.

Logan appears beside me, dropping our travel bags and following my gaze over the street.

"Well, that's official then."

I stare at the sign, processing what this means. Clara really is leaving. After fifteen years, Summit Café—the café that's been Iron Ridge's morning ritual since before I even dreamed of Chapter & Grind—is gone.

"You okay?" Logan asks.

I nod slowly. "Yeah. It's just... strange. I competed with Summit for so long, and now..."

"Now you're the only game in town."

"Yeah." The weight of that settles on my shoulders. "No more splitting customers. No more friendly rivalry. It's just... me."

Logan wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Scared?"

"Terrified," I admit, laughing against his firm chest. "What if I can't live up to what Clara built? What if—"

He turns me in his arms, cutting off my spiral with a soft kiss.

"You're not replacing Clara," he says against my lips. "You're being Emma. That's more than enough."

"Logan, I—"

He spins me around in his arms and smiles down at me. "Come on, let's get you in the shower. They always seem to help refocus that beautiful, whirlwind mind of yours."