Chapter 1 the cold touch
Friday nights in Bellhaven usually ended at Haven Café.
The little coffee shop sat in the middle of town, tucked between Bellhaven Florist and an old bookstore that never seemed to have any customers but somehow never went out of business either. Haven had foggy front windows, mismatched wooden tables, and a permanent smell of espresso and cinnamon that followed you home and clung to your clothes.
Everybody came to Haven.
First dates happened here. Breakups happened here. Friendships started here, and probably a few marriages too.
And if you stayed long enough, you could hear enough gossip to know what half of Bellhaven was doing before they did.
My sister Brooke loved that part.
Me?
I liked the corner table by the window.
It was 8:50 on a rainy Friday night. I’d already checked the clock three times while Brooke told me a story I’d stopped listening to minutes ago.
“And then Tyler had the nerve to ask if I was going to the party tomorrow.”
I stirred my coffee.
“You’re not listening,” she said.
“I am.”
Brooke narrowed her eyes. “What did I just say?”
I looked up at her. “You said Tyler did something annoying.”
She laughed. “You’re terrible.”
“I was close.”
“No, you weren’t.”
That was Brooke.
At twenty-three, she could walk into Haven and get three hellos before she reached the counter. People noticed her.
I was used to not being noticed.
“Can we go soon?” I asked, staring out at the rain.
“It’s not even nine.”
“Exactly. We’ve been here two hours. Normal people go home.”
Brooke smirked. “Normal people are boring.”
I smiled despite myself.
Then the bell above the door rang.
I don’t know why I looked. People came and went all night.
But I did.
He stood just inside the doorway, rain glistening on his black jacket, his dark hair slightly tousled.
Then he looked up.
His eyes found mine.
Pale blue.
Almost silver.
My stomach flipped.
I looked down so quickly I nearly knocked over my coffee.
“What are you doing?” Brooke asked.
“Nothing.”
She started to turn.
I kicked her under the table.
“Ow!”
“Don’t look!”
Of course, she looked anyway.
“Oh.”
I could feel her grin before I even saw it.
“Oh what?”
She turned back toward me, smiling. “Nothing.”
“Brooke.”
“He’s cute.”
“Stop.”
“Very cute.”
“I wasn’t looking at him.”
“You nearly broke your neck looking away from him.”
I felt my cheeks burn.
“He wasn’t looking at me anyway.”
Brooke raised her eyebrows. “He definitely was.”
I looked down at my coffee.
“Whatever.”
I told myself not to check again.
So naturally, I did.
He was standing at the counter, waiting. Still. Calm. One hand rested against the edge as though he had nowhere else in the world he needed to be.
“Black coffee,” I heard him say.
No cream.
No sugar.
Then his eyes flicked back to me.
This time, I held his gaze for a second.
And then his mouth curved into the smallest smirk.
My pulse jumped.
Why is he looking at me?
Guys who looked like him noticed girls like Brooke.
They didn’t stare across coffee shops at girls like me.
A few minutes later, I glanced toward the counter again.
He was gone.
Something inside me sank, and I immediately hated myself for it. I’d known the guy for approximately zero minutes.
Then I spotted him.
He’d taken a table nearby.
His black coffee sat untouched in front of him.
And somehow, he was looking at me again.
I turned toward the window. The rain was coming down harder now, tapping against the glass.
“I’m going home,” I announced.
Brooke looked outside. “In that?”
“We live six minutes away.”
“Hailey.”
“I have a hood.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Give me five minutes. I’m finishing this.”
I stood and pulled my sweater around myself.
My bag slipped from the back of the chair.
Everything inside scattered across the floor.
“Perfect,” I muttered.
My keys skidded underneath the next table.
His table.
Of course they did.
I crouched down at the exact same moment he did.
His hand reached them first.
For one ridiculous second, I just stared at it.
Then at him.
Up close, his eyes were even stranger. Pale blue surrounded by dark lashes.
Beautiful.
And somehow unsettling.
He held my keys out to me.
“You dropped these.”
Brilliant observation.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
That smirk appeared again.
“You’re welcome.”
I reached for the keys.
Our fingers brushed.
His skin was cold.
Not rain cold.
Just… cold.
I pulled my hand back.
His expression changed for half a second. So quickly, I almost thought I’d imagined it.
Then he said my name.
“Hailey.”
I froze.
I hadn’t told him my name.
“How do you—”
He nodded toward the counter. “The barista said it earlier.”
Of course.
I felt stupid.
“Right.”
“I’m Ivan,” he said.
“Ivan?”
“Sinclair.”
Ivan Sinclair.
The name fit him.
“Nice to meet you,” I managed.
“You too, Hailey.”
There was something about the way he said my name that made me wish he hadn’t.
Or maybe made me wish he’d say it again.
I stepped backward.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Brooke was grinning when I returned to our table.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re about to.”
She laughed and grabbed her purse.
I shoved my arms into my jacket.
“I’m leaving you.”
Brooke followed me toward the door.
The bell rang as we stepped outside.
Cold rain hit my face, and I pulled my hood up.
Brooke was talking beside me, but I barely heard her.
I looked back through the window.
Ivan hadn’t moved.
His cup of black coffee still sat untouched in front of him.
And through the rain running down the glass, those pale blue eyes were still on me.
