Bound to the Moon

Elena Carter had just decided she was done thinking about Josh.

Which was exactly when Noah brought him up.

“Any news about you know who?” he asked casually, wiping down the espresso machine without looking at her.

Elena didn’t answer right away. She finished pouring the coffee in her hand, set the pot down, then wiped a perfectly clean patch of counter like it had personally offended her.

“No,” she said at last. “No updates from the disaster.”

Noah huffed a quiet laugh. “Still radio silence?”

“I’ve stopped caring,” she corrected.

It wasn’t entirely true. But it sounded better.

Noah glanced at her then, like he knew that too, but had enough sense not to say it. “Guy’s an idiot.”

Elena shrugged and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before reaching for the next mug. “Yeah. Well. That’s apparently my type.”

She said it lightly, like a joke. Like it didn’t bother her.

Like she hadn’t spent weeks replaying every conversation, every look, every small stupid thing, trying to figure out what she had done wrong before finally admitting the answer was probably nothing at all.

She pushed the thought away before it could settle. She was getting better at that.

The bell above the café door chimed.

Cold air slipped in.

And something with it.

Elena felt it before she understood it.

Her hand stilled against the counter.

It wasn’t a sound. It wasn’t a smell. It was only a shift in the room, subtle but real, as if the air had changed pressure around her without warning. The kind of feeling that should have meant nothing and somehow didn’t.

“You okay?” Noah asked.

Elena looked up.

A man stood just inside the door.

He didn’t move right away. His gaze found hers almost immediately and held it for one quiet, unsettling beat—long enough that Elena felt it somewhere low in her chest before she understood why.

Then he looked away and moved toward the far end of the counter.

Elena realized, dimly, that she still hadn’t answered Noah.

“…Yeah,” she said, though her attention had already followed the man across the room.

He didn’t look like he belonged in Grey Hollow.

It wasn’t anything obvious. His clothes were simple enough—dark jeans, black shirt, nothing flashy—but there was something about the way he carried himself that set him apart from everyone else who came through the café doors. Still, but not relaxed. Controlled, but not stiff. Like he was used to noticing everything around him without reacting to any of it unless he chose to.

Dark hair, slightly too long for most men in town. Broad shoulders that made the narrow space between tables feel smaller when he passed through it. A face that would have been striking even if she hadn’t already felt him before she’d really seen him.

He reached the end of the counter and sat down.

Elena did not move.

Noah looked from her to the man and back again.

Then he muttered, “Right. I’ll get mysterious door guy, then,” and moved past her with a rag thrown over one shoulder.

That was enough to break the moment.

Elena turned back to the counter, reaching for a stack of lids she didn’t need.

Her pulse had picked up.

That was ridiculous.

It was a man walking into a café, not a natural disaster.

She forced herself to breathe and kept her hands moving, but every few seconds she felt it again—that same strange awareness, like some part of her had tuned itself toward where he stood whether she wanted it to or not.

Noah took the order, poured the coffee, said something Elena didn’t catch.

The man answered, low and brief.

Then Noah was back beside her, wiping his hands on his apron.

“New guy,” he said.

Elena kept her eyes on the counter. “I noticed.”

“You seem weird about it.”

“I am not weird about it.”

Noah gave her a look. “You froze.”

“I paused.”

“You stared.”

“I observed.”

“That’s worse.”

Elena ignored him, but she could feel Noah trying not to grin at her while she slid cups into place with a little too much precision.

She shouldn’t have kept looking.

She did anyway.

The man was watching her again.

Not openly enough to be rude. Not in a way she could call out without sounding dramatic. Just steadily. Focused. Like he had arrived with somewhere else to be and then forgotten it the moment he saw her.

That thought annoyed her on contact.

She grabbed a ticket and rang in the order on the register.

Noah, clearly deciding to make himself insufferable, said under his breath, “Should I be worried you’re having a medical event?”

Elena shot him a flat look. “Should I be worried you’ve never seen a customer before?”

“Not one who makes you forget how to use a register.”

She frowned. “I have not forgotten how to use a register.”

Noah nodded toward the screen.

Elena looked down and realized she had rung in the same order twice.

“…Okay,” she muttered. “That one was on me.”

Noah smirked and headed back into the kitchen before she could come up with anything sharp enough to throw after him.

She deleted the extra order and reached for her cloth, telling herself that was the end of it. That she was tired, off-balance, still irritated about Josh, and probably projecting some weird energy onto the first remotely good-looking man to walk into the café in weeks.

That explanation almost worked.

Then the voice came from much closer than she expected.

“I’ll take another.”

Elena turned.

He was standing at the counter.

She hadn’t seen him leave his place at the end. Hadn’t heard him cross the floor. For a second, that unsettled her more than it should have.

Still, she found her voice fast enough.

“Sure.”

It sounded normal.

That felt like a small victory.

Up close, he was even harder to ignore.

Not because he was intimidating in any obvious way. He wasn’t crowding her. Wasn’t trying to charm her. Wasn’t even leaning in.

He was just there, solid and quiet, with the kind of presence that didn’t need to demand attention in order to alter the shape of the room around it.

“Coffee?” she asked, reaching for a cup.

A brief pause.

Then, “To go.”

Elena nodded and grabbed a paper cup instead of a mug. Better. Normal. Safer. She poured the coffee, snapped the lid into place, and slid it toward him across the counter.

Their fingers brushed.

The reaction was instant.

A sharp spark jumped between them.

Elena flinched and pulled her hand back.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Static.”

It didn’t feel like static.

It felt sharper than that. Stranger. Not pain exactly, but enough to send awareness skittering all the way up her arm.

The man’s gaze dropped briefly to her hand, then lifted back to her face.

Something in his expression shifted.

Not surprise.

Not confusion either.

Recognition, maybe. Or the focused attention of someone trying very hard to place something that refused to fit where it should.

Elena cleared her throat and brushed her fingers against her apron.

“Must be dry in here,” she added, mostly because the silence had become unbearable.

A beat passed.

Then he gave a small nod.

Maybe.

But he didn’t look convinced.

Elena pretended not to notice.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“No.”

Another pause.

Long enough to register. Not long enough to escape.

Then he said, “I’ll see you around.”

And then, unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth shifted—small, brief, but enough to change his whole face before he turned and left.

Something in Elena tightened.

Not fear. Not exactly.

But certainty, sudden and unwelcome, slid through her before she could stop it: he wasn’t guessing.

He meant it.

Before she could decide what to do with that, Noah appeared at her shoulder with all the subtlety of a collapsing shelf.

“Well,” he said. “That was weird.”

Elena stared at him. “You are so unhelpful.”

But for the first time in weeks, Josh was nowhere near the center of her thoughts.