Page 32

CHAPTER 32

NATE

I’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for twenty minutes, not processing a single number. My mind keeps drifting to Caspian. After leaving Addy’s place two days ago, I was determined to talk to Caspian, but when I parked in our driveway, all his lights were off.

I’ve wanted to reach out to check if he’s okay, but every time I pick up my phone, I freeze. What if he rejects me? What if he doesn’t want to hear from me at all? The memory of his hurt expression, the way he backed away from me, how small his voice sounded when he asked me to leave—it all haunts me. I’ve never felt so helpless, so unsure of what to do.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Amelia’s voice breaks through my thoughts. She’s leaning against my desk, arms crossed.

“Nothing,” I mutter, pretending to focus on my computer screen.

“Bull,” she says flatly. “You’ve been moping around all day like someone killed your puppy. Spill.”

I run a hand through my hair, sighing. “There’s just…something going on between me and Caspian. But it’ll be fine.”

“It better be fine,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Because if that sweet boy moves away from Maplewood because of whatever you did, I will never forgive you.”

My stomach drops. I hadn’t even considered that possibility.

“He wouldn’t leave Maplewood,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction.

“Wouldn’t he?” Amelia raises an eyebrow. “Think about it, Nate. You live next door to each other. Your mom works with him. This is a small town. That’s a lot of awkward run-ins if things go south.”

“But he just bought the coffee shop. He renovated it. He has plans…”

“Plans can change.” Amelia’s voice softens. “People leave when they’re hurting. Sometimes it’s easier than staying and facing reminders of that pain every day.”

What if she’s right? What if Caspian decides he can’t stay here? The thought makes my chest tight with panic.

“He can’t leave,” I whisper. “He belongs here.” The thought makes me feel physically ill.

“Then fix whatever you did,” Amelia says firmly. “Before it’s too late.”

“I need to go,” I tell Amelia, already standing and gathering my things. She watches me with knowing eyes but doesn’t try to stop me.

My hands shake slightly as I grip the steering wheel. Should I go to the coffee shop? Caspian should be there now, but having this conversation while he’s working wouldn’t be fair to him. Plus, the thought of seeing that hurt in his eyes again, but this time in front of his customers… No, I need to go home first and figure out what I’m going to say.

When I turn onto our street, my heart skips a beat at the sight of Caspian’s car in his driveway. Maybe this is my chance to make things right.

My heart leaps, and I practically run to his door, knocking perhaps a bit too eagerly.

The door opens, but instead of Caspian, there’s a stranger. Short, with pale-white skin, the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and a mop of curly bright-red hair. My first panicked thought is that Caspian’s already moving out.

“Can I help you?” the man asks, leaning against the doorframe with casual interest.

“I… Is Caspian here?”

“Depends who’s asking,” he says, giving me an appraising look. “Though given the height, the rugged outdoorsy vibe, and the kicked-puppy expression, I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re Nate?”

“Yeah, I’m Nate,” I confirm, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “And you are…?”

“Marcus,” he says with a flourish. “Best friend, chief emotional support, and the current guardian of this threshold.” He pauses, tilting his head. “You know, Caspian said you were hot, but he didn’t mention you were lumberjack, outdoorsy, let-me-fuck-you-against-a-tree hot. Which is really inconsiderate of him because now I have to resist the urge to forgive you just based on those eyes alone.” He lets out a dramatic sigh. “The universe is truly testing me today.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to peer past him into the house. “Is Caspian here?” My heart’s racing.

Marcus shakes his head. “He’s at the coffee shop, and then he’s heading straight to the festival. I’m just grabbing some things for him.”

“Wait,” I say as he starts to close the door. “Please.”

I rush back to my house, heading straight for the freezer where I keep several portions of the soup I make that Caspian loves so much. I grab a container and hurry back.

“Here.” I thrust the container at Marcus. “It’s the soup he likes. He should eat something between closing the shop and working at the festival.”

Marcus takes the container, looking at me with renewed interest. “And where’s my soup?” Marcus asks with a dramatic pout. “I am the best friend who flew across the country to provide emotional support, after all.”

“There’s enough for two there. But if you like it, I’ll make you your own batch,” I reply, managing a small smile despite everything.

Marcus grins. “You know, you’re making it really hard for me to maintain my protective best friend stance here.” He starts walking toward Caspian’s car, then turns back. “He’s hurting, but he’s not unreachable. Just…give him time.”

I watch him drive away, feeling simultaneously better and worse. Better knowing Caspian has such a good friend looking out for him, worse knowing how much pain I’ve caused.

Later at the festival, I can’t help but watch Caspian from afar. He’s operating the Special Blend booth, serving hot chocolate and coffee to a steady stream of customers. Even from a distance, I can see the shadows under his eyes, the slight droop to his shoulders when he thinks no one’s watching.

When the crowd finally thins out and the festival’s winding down, I make my way over to his booth. He looks up as I approach, and my heart clenches at the sadness in his eyes.

“Thank you for the soup,” he says softly.

“Caspian, I’m so sorry,” I blurt out. “What can I do to make this right?”

He wraps his arms around himself, looking small despite his usual vibrant presence. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe…” I hesitate, then press on. “I know I messed up by springing this all on you, but…have you thought about talking to Tate and Tristan?”

He looks down at his feet, shoulders tense. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” I ask gently, resisting the urge to reach for him.

“Because…” He takes a shaky breath. “Because right now, they’re just names. People I can pretend don’t exist if I try hard enough. Once I talk to them, it becomes real. Everything becomes real.”

My heart aches for him. “I know it’s scary,” I say, taking a small step closer but still maintaining enough distance to not crowd him. “But you don’t have to do it alone.” The words I’ve been rehearsing all day tumble out. “I keep thinking about what I should have done differently. How I should have told you the moment I found out. I was so caught up in trying to protect you that I didn’t realize I was just adding to the hurt.”

Caspian’s fingers fidget with the hem of his sleeve. “It’s not just about you not telling me,” he says quietly. “It’s…everything. My whole life feels like it was built on secrets. My mom…” His voice cracks slightly. “She was my best friend. We told each other everything. Or at least I thought we did.”

“Maybe she was trying to protect you too,” I suggest gently. “Sometimes the people who love us most make mistakes trying to shield us from pain.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “That’s what Marcus said too.”

“Smart guy, your friend.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Don’t let him hear you say that. His ego’s big enough already.”

The brief moment of lightness fades, and I can see the weight of everything settling back on his shoulders. “I’m here for whatever you need,” I tell him softly. “Whether that’s someone to talk to or to sit quietly with. Even if you just need someone to be angry at—I can be that too.”

He looks up at me then, his dark eyes swimming with tears. The festival lights catch in them, making them shine like stars. All day I’ve imagined this moment, planned what I would say, how I would make things right. But now, seeing him hurting like this, all my carefully prepared words feel inadequate.

Before I can process what’s happening, Caspian steps forward and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. I freeze for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact after days of distance. Then, carefully, as if he might shatter under my touch, I fold my arms around him. He feels smaller somehow, more fragile, and I want nothing more than to protect him from everything that’s hurting him.

“I missed you,” he whispers against my chest.

“I missed you too,” I murmur into his hair. “So much.”

We stand like that for a long moment, the festival slowly dismantling around us. When Caspian finally pulls back, his eyes are red but dry.

“I should finish packing up,” he says, gesturing to his booth.

“Where’s Marcus?” I ask, glancing around.

“He wanted to check out the festival once it got quiet at the booth,” Caspian says with a small shrug. “He’s never been to Vermont before.”

“Let me help?”

He nods, and together, we work in comfortable silence. I watch as he meticulously cleans the coffee maker, his movements precise and careful. There are a few pastries left in the display case that didn’t sell.

“Can I have these?” I ask, pointing to the remaining baked goods.

“Sure,” Caspian says with a small shrug. “I made them myself. They’re not as popular as your mom’s, apparently.”

I grab one of the cookies and take a bite. It’s a little on the hard side, but the flavor is good—a nice balance of sweetness with a hint of cinnamon.

“This is the best cookie I’ve ever tasted,” I say earnestly.

“Well, well, well.” Marcus’s voice cuts through as he returns from exploring the festival. He starts helping pack away the remaining items. “Looks like we found the one person who actually enjoys Caspian’s baking experiments. Must be true love.”

Caspian doesn’t seem to catch the comment as he focuses on the coffee maker, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. It’s not everything fixed—not by a long shot—but it feels like a start. Like maybe there’s hope for us after all.

As we work, I steal glances at Caspian, memorizing the way the festival lights play across his face, the determined set of his jaw as he concentrates on his tasks. I know we have a long way to go, but for now, this is enough. This moment, this peace, this tiny step forward.

It has to be enough.