Wildfire

The smell of fresh coffee clung to my skin, a permanent side effect of owning the place I loved most. Luna’s Hollow had been mine for three years, and every time I walked through its doors, I still felt that same spark of pride. It was mine. It was built from long nights, early mornings, and enough caffeine to kill a miniature horse—my labor of love, my dream, my world. More than just a café, it was a sanctuary—a cozy escape lined with towering bookshelves, soft candlelight, and the lingering scent of vanilla and worn pages—a place for kindred spirits to lose themselves in stories, coffee, and quiet magic. Though lately, the peace I’d built here felt fragile. Why? I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you, but it didn’t feel right.

For whatever reason, today was a struggle for me. I glanced at the clock; its hands crawled at a painfully slow pace. With a sigh, I straightened as Mr. Ross approached the counter, his empty mug in hand. His silver hair and neatly trimmed beard framed his face, a face etched with the stories of a life well-lived. Not a single day had passed without Mr. Ross settling into his usual spot in the back corner, always within an hour before closing and always with a book. It was unusual, but he was kind, so I never thought much of it.

“You should slow down, Kennedy. You’re always here, always working. Life has a way of slipping through your fingers when you’re not looking.” His words lingered, settling uncomfortably in my chest. I forced a smile, turning to grab the pot of dark roast coffee to fill his mug.

I leaned against the counter, rubbing a hand over my eyes as Sienna slid a to-go cup toward me. I jumped, still deep in thought as I processed Mr. Ross’s words. “You know, for someone who owns a cafe, you sure do look like you could use some coffee.”

Sienna Moretti had been my best friend since second grade. She was the only person who could read me like a book. She knew when I was tired, stressed, or about to make a questionable life decision. It was both a gift and a curse.

“Thanks, Sisi,” I muttered, picking up the cup and taking a long sip without asking what was in it.

“Or a spa day. Or a sugar daddy.” She added, wiggling her brows.

I choked on my drink, laughing as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Why settle for one when I can have all three?”

She grinned, flicking my arm with a bar towel before I returned to the espresso machine.

Sienna was right—I was beat.

Before I could take another sip, the café door flew open with a gust of crisp evening air. The little brass bell overhead jingled as the “infamous” Jaxon Fischer strode in, bringing his usual reckless energy with him. His dark jacket was unzipped, revealing a faded band tee, and his grin was already in place—charming and utterly full of shit.

Jaxon had always been like this—storming into rooms as if he owned them, leaving chaos in his wake. Taller than most, broad through the shoulders, he carried himself with a kind of careless swagger that bordered on arrogance. His dark hair was cut just short enough to look intentional, but always a little unkempt, as if he wanted people to believe he didn’t care. And then there were his eyes—amber-brown and restless, never still, scanning, calculating. They weren’t warm, not really. They burned too hot, like he was always two seconds away from turning that grin into something sharper.

“Good evening, ladies! Aren’t we all looking absolutely divine today?”

Sienna and I exchanged an eye roll as he leaned dramatically against the counter, his smirk deepening like he could hear our internal groans.

“Before I say anything else, I require that drink. You know, the one with the little artsy pictures.” He waved a lazy hand as if he were royalty, placing an order.

I huffed a quiet laugh but turned toward the espresso machine without protest. As the steam hissed and the scent of fresh coffee deepened, I glanced over my shoulder. “You know, for someone who refuses to learn the actual names of drinks, you sure are picky.”

“Hey, I respect the craft,” he shot back, tapping the counter for emphasis.

A minute later, I set his cappuccino down in front of him. Before I pulled my hand away, I leaned in with a smirk. “What kind of chaos are you dragging us into this time?”

Jaxon’s eyes flickered with amusement as he mirrored my movement, closing the space between us like he was testing me, calling my bluff.

I held my ground briefly before pulling back, but my smirk remained.

“So,” he started, straightening with a devilish grin. “I got invited to that new club that just opened up—The Veil or something like that. And, lucky for you two, I happen to have three VIP tickets.” He fanned them out between his fingers like a winning hand in a poker game. “Thought you beauties might want to join me for a night out on the town!”

Sienna crossed her arms, giving him a skeptical look. “You have three VIP tickets, and you want to take us? Out of all the women in this city? What’s in it for you?”

Jaxon’s confidence faltered for a split second before he scoffed. “Come on, man. Why does there always have to be a catch? Look, y’all are single, right? And when was the last time you went out, Kennedy?” He gestured toward me with his cup. “This shop is eating up your social life. Let’s have fun! Paint the town red or whatever my parents used to say.”

He lifted his cappuccino and took a sip, completely unaware of the foam mustache left behind. I grinned and tapped my upper lip in silent warning. He frowned, confused, before realization hit. He wiped his mouth hastily, and Sienna and I burst into laughter.

“Paint the town red?” Sienna snorted. “What are you, fifty?”

Jaxon pressed his hand to his chest, eyes wide with faux offense. “Rude. My parents were very wise people.”

I shook my head at their antics, but a night out actually sounded nice. It had been a while since I let myself have fun with my friends. They’d been amazing, helping out at the shop when I needed them, especially since I really only had one other employee. Maybe I owed them—and myself—a break.

Sienna, of course, wasn’t about to make it easy. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking every bit the negotiator.

“Alright, we’ll go on one condition,” Sienna said, pointing a finger at him. “You’re covering everything. Uber, drinks…the works. Capiche?”

“Unbelievable,” Jaxon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine, deal—but if you tell people I’m your gay cousin again, this will be your last free meal ticket, you greedy gremlin.”

Laughter filled the café as the memory resurfaced—vivid, ridiculous, and ultimately us.

As the laughter settled, I found myself staring at the VIP tickets still fanned out in Jaxon’s hand—a night out. Dancing, music, drinks, the kind of thing I used to love before life got too complicated. Before responsibility had me waking up at the crack of dawn to keep this place running.

I glanced around my café, the warm glow of the hanging lights bouncing off the espresso machine, the scent of roasted coffee beans calming me like it always did. I built this place from the ground up and poured everything I had into it. And yeah, maybe Jaxon had a point. Maybe, somewhere along the way, I’d let it consume me. Not that I regretted it. This shop saved me; it gave me something that was mine after years of feeling like I was just surviving. After my mom died, after my dad—well, after everything. I needed something to anchor me when the rest of my world was falling apart.

But anchors get heavy. And, for once, maybe I could let go—just a little.

I groaned, but deep down, warmth curled in my chest. It had been forever since I let myself go out just for fun. Maybe because, deep down, I was scared of how much I’d changed.

The old me would’ve jumped at the chance. The new me hesitated.

“Fine,” I relented. “But if it sucks, I’m leaving early.”

Sienna beamed. “Deal.”

Jaxon tapped the counter. “We’ll make sure you have fun.” His smirk deepened like he knew exactly what he was doing. And, annoyingly, so did I. I hated that part of me still reacted to it, just a little.

Jaxon grinned. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Let’s just see if you survive the night with Sienna. She’s got expensive taste, and now you’re funding it.”

His smirk faltered just slightly. “Maybe I should’ve set a budget...”

Sienna grabbed the tickets from his hand before he could change his mind. “Nope! Too late! Tonight, we ride!”

“Tomorrow,” I corrected, shooting her a look. “I need one good night of sleep, and I have to give Izzy a heads-up that she’s closing. At least twenty-four hours’ notice, like a responsible adult.” I sighed, already pulling out my phone to text her. If I didn’t, I’d either have to close early or bail on the whole thing, and after all this build-up, that wasn’t an option.

I slid it into my back pocket and flashed them both a smile before turning on my heel to start closing down the shop. I was exhausted and more than ready to go home. Luckily, the shop had emptied right before Jaxon arrived, so I quickly flipped the open sign so that it said closed, locked the door, and dimmed the lights.

As the glow softened, I caught Jaxon wiggling his brows at me, teasing as always. There was always this flirty tension between us, confusing, considering he was the one who ended things. Rolling my eyes, I swatted his arm playfully before slipping past him, making my way behind the counter to help Sienna with the last of the dishes.

“Are you going to make yourself useful, or just keep being a pest?” Sienna called out, eyeing Jaxon as he spun lazily back and forth in a counter chair.

Snapping out of his trance, he hopped up, grabbed the trash bags, and took them outside while Sienna and I finished the last of the closing tasks. When he returned, I offered them both a tired but grateful smile.

“Thanks for helping me today. Let’s go home! And Sisi, come over tomorrow and help me get ready. I think I forgot how to dress like a girl.”

We laughed before heading out the back and locking the door behind us. Wishing each other a good night, we closed out another night of my dream made real, no expense spared, including my sanity.

The drive home was quiet—the kind of silence that let my thoughts wander. By the time I pulled into my driveway, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. Even unlocking the door felt like more effort than I had left to give, but the promise of my warm bed and my darling cat, Luna, kept me motivated. It’s true, I’m 100% an old lady at heart. Give me a cozy couch, a soft blanket, and my cat over a night out any day.

But even old ladies needed to let loose once in a while. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? A hangover and a guilty conscience?

The warmth that escaped through the open door wrapped around me like a blanket, starkly contrasting the crisp night air outside. I stepped in willingly, shutting the door with a quiet click and locking it with ease. My eyes adjusted to the dim room, scanning for Luna, but I didn’t have to search for long—her glowing green eyes found me first.

A postcard sat on the entryway floor.

My brows pulled together. Had I left it there earlier? I didn’t remember seeing it when I left for work this morning.

I hesitated before picking it up, my fingertips tracing the worn edges.

The front displayed a beach I didn’t recognize, waves rolling lazily under an overcast sky. It was the kind of scene that should’ve been calming, but something about it felt wrong. A pit formed in my stomach before I even flipped it over.

Then I saw the writing.

I won’t let you slip away from me again, sweet girl. I’ve missed you.

No name. No return address. Just a tiny, hand-drawn heart.

I inhaled sharply, fingers clenching around the card stock before I could stop myself. My skin felt tight, my pulse hammering behind my ribs.

A chill rolled down my spine, slow and cold.

Sweet girl.

The words sat heavy in my chest, suffocating. I hadn’t seen those words written in years, not since college.

Not since him.

My nightmare was never found, but because he stopped, I was presumed safe

The room around me blurred for a moment, memories pressing at the edges of my mind, threatening to drag me back. Crumpled postcards in my dorm mailbox. A presence I could never quite shake—the feeling of eyes on me when no one was there.

I swallowed hard and forced my grip to loosen.

No.

Not again.

Luna’s soft chirp snapped me back to reality, her small body winding around my legs. I exhaled slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax.

It was just a postcard.

It didn’t mean anything.

Except it did.

He found me.

I set it down on the entryway table, turning away from it.

Ignore it. Don’t feed into it.

“There you are,” I murmured, scooping her into my arms. Her soft fur pressed against my cheek as she let out a small, satisfied purr. I sighed as I held her tight, grounding myself in the simple comfort of her warmth.

When I reached for the light switch, I had already convinced myself it was nothing.

It was probably just a coincidence. It had to be.

My home was empty but not silent—the low hum of the TV played in the background, filling the quiet that would otherwise feel too heavy after a long day. I always left it on for Luna, though I wasn’t sure if it was really for her sake or mine.

For a split second, I thought about calling Sienna, just to hear another voice, but what would I even say? That a piece of cardstock made my skin crawl? No. I wasn’t that girl anymore. Still, every sound in the apartment felt sharper. Closer. Like the silence was listening.

Kicking off my shoes, I let out a slow breath, finally allowing my body to relax. The scent of fresh coffee still clung to my clothes, mixing with the faint lavender wax melt I’d left burning that morning. I was home. I was safe. Free to let the weight of the day slip from my shoulders. Squeezing Luna tight, I swallowed the lingering ache and poured myself a glass of wine, pretending the tightness in my chest wasn’t fear. It was just a coincidence. It had to be.

Mr. Ross’s words echoed in my head as I took off my shoes. Life has a way of slipping through your fingers when you’re not looking. He hadn’t meant anything by it, but the weight of the words settled deep. That’s how it had felt with my mother—one moment, she was here, and then she wasn’t. The cancer had taken her before I’d even figured out who I was, before I had the chance to ask all the questions I hadn’t known I would have.

My father had always said grief was wasted energy, that there was no use in dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. Maybe that was why I had stopped expecting anything from him. He existed in my life only in name, a man of power and influence that had never extended beyond the superficial. I had built my own life and stability without relying on him. And yet, sometimes, I wondered if there had ever been a version of him that could have been more nurturing.

I absently stroked Luna’s fur as I walked through the apartment, flipping on a few lamps to chase away the dimness. The space was mine, built on my terms, separate from the shadow of my father’s name. He would never understand a quiet night like this, he only understood power and control. I had carved out something different for myself, something he had no part in.

I went through the motions—feeding Luna, washing off the day in a steaming shower, slipping into my favorite worn-in t-shirt. By the time I climbed into bed, exhaustion pressed heavily against my limbs, though my thoughts refused to quiet.

The postcard sat untouched where I’d left it.

I turned over, willing myself to sleep, but as I closed my eyes, a thought crept in, cold and unshakable.

He’s back.

I swallowed, my chest tightening. The thought burrowed deep, an unwanted presence refusing to let go. I told myself it was impossible, but the words felt thin—fragile, like they could splinter under their own weight.

The house felt quieter than usual. Too quiet.

Luna purred against my chest as my arms wrapped around her. Her warmth and vibrations helped ground me, pulling me back to the moment.

I exhaled. Tomorrow would come like it always did.

And still, as I let my eyes drift closed, I knew something had already shifted.